Victoria let the page flutter to the table. She flipped through the printed screenplay, reading her mother’s notes in the margins. As she had in her letter, Ava spotted flaws, praised the good parts and offered surprisingly helpful suggestions. It took her a couple of hours to read through everything, which meant her mother had spent three or four times that amount of time on her critique.
“No wonder Dad loves you so much,” she said when she was done. “You really did save his business.”
She retreated to her office where she opened her laptop and pulled up the program she was using to replace the physical note cards with something she could expand on and manipulate more easily on her computer. After scanning the screen, she saw several places where she could incorporate her mother’s changes into the work and make it stronger. She set the timer on her phone and started typing.
When her phone went off at three, she saved what she had and shut down the laptop. At that time of day, on a Friday, it took nearly an hour to get to Bel Air. She parked in the large circular driveway and walked up to the front door where she used her key to let herself in.
“Mom? It’s me.”
“In the family room.”
She walked through the house to the open, airy room that overlooked the backyard. She found her mother sitting on a sofa, one of her memory boxes open in front of her.
Victoria stared in disbelief. All the warm, fuzzy feelings that had been building drained away, leaving her furious.
“Really, Mom? You can’t let it go, can you? Shannon, Shannon, Shannon. What is it with you and tall, skinny blondes who will never be your daughter?”
Ava looked at her. “You do enjoy jumping to conclusions. I don’t have the Shannon box anymore. I gave it to Cindy, minus the diary. That I put in recycling where hopefully it will be turned into a tote bag or a shipping box.” She waved a photograph. “This is one of your boxes, from when you were three or four. Definitely in your Never Still phase, or era as you would say.”
Victoria ignored the sense of feeling foolish. “Oh, sorry. I thought, well, you know.”
Ava patted the sofa. “Come see for yourself.”
Victoria settled next to her. Ava passed over several pictures.
“Why are so many of them blurry?”
“You were never still. Why walk when you can run, jump or skip?”
Her mother handed her more. Victoria winced as she saw her very naked self out in the yard, playing with a ball, her pile of clothes on the lawn. There were more naked photos—her at an imaginary tea party, or playing soccer or jumping off a coffee table.
“When did I start wearing clothes again?”
“Sometime after you turned four. But for those eighteen months or so, your father and I stuck pretty close to home. Other families weren’t very forgiving when you led their children astray.” Ava smiled at her. “You always did set the tone.”
“I’m not a follower.”
“You’re not.”
“I read your notes,” Victoria said, shuffling through birthday party announcements and family Christmas cards where, thankfully, she managed to stay dressed for the photo shoot. Although based on her expression, there was clearly rebellion on her mind.
Ava didn’t say anything, but Victoria felt her stiffen.
“You were right,” she said, putting down the papers and angling toward her mother. “The story structure was off. I realized a few weeks ago that the breakup is the midpoint, not the end. Margarite is pregnant.”
“By Jake? Shouldn’t she be on birth control?”
Victoria grinned. “Not everyone is as responsible as me.”
“Apparently not. You should talk to her about her life choices. So what happens now?”
“I’m still figuring that out. I think she gets together with Danny.”
“The stunt guy.” Ava paused. “Oh, I can see how that would work. He’s secretly in love with her. That could be fun. How does she feel about him?”
“So far they’re just friends, but I think they have potential.”
“She’s not going to make it easy. She’s determined to protect herself emotionally, which can be a problem in a relationship. Vulnerability is required for connection.”
