“Also,” Natalie added, “Sybil wants to help. And in my experience, when Sybil wants to do something, it’s better to just geton board because eventually she’s going to wear you down into doing it anyway.” She seized Betty by the shoulders and steered her over to better lighting by the sliding glass door, and before Betty could protest, snapped a few pictures.
“Oh no, please don’t—” Betty started, but then she heard the clack of Natalie typing and whoosh, her pictures were shot into the ether. A burst of wind blew through, and she zipped her jacket tighter.
“I told them you can ride a bike. You can ride a bike, yes? We need someone who can play high school who can also ride a bike.”
Suddenly Zeke was by her side. “If she can’t ride a bike, she candefinitelydrive a stunt car.” He thrust out his left hand, which wasn’t his dominant hand, and he looked like he was still adjusting to learning how to use it. “Let’s make herfamous! Also, hi, I’m Zeke.”
Betty watched Natalie raise an eyebrow, while Sybil limped over because she seemed to always be where Zeke was these days.
“Zeke, this is my best friend, Natalie,” Sybil said.
“I already sent her pics over to my agency. We’re getting you your SAG card and health insurance, Betty, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t—” She wasn’t worried before, but now she was very worried. Betty had taken meticulous care to blend in so well that she was nearly invisible, and now this well-intentioned but extremely pushy woman wanted to cast her in a commercial? Betty allowed herself to imagine a different life, one in which she really could become a star, one in which she could arrive at a premiere with Caleb, the subway boy, on her arm. She still had his card in her pocket; she still thought about reaching out every day. She still knew better, so she didn’t.
“I don’t actually want to be famous,” Betty said. She wasn’t used to being steamrolled recently, having spent her childhoodbeing steamrolled and having worked hard to break the habit. But in trying to flex that muscle now, she discovered that it had atrophied.
“Ah, I see, an actor’s actor,” Natalie said. “Well, everyone has to start somewhere; this is just a regional commercial, nothing high stakes, but we can get it in your reel, get some actual headshots and start to send you out from there.”
There were so many things in that sentence that Betty didn’t understand that she opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but nothing came out.
“Natalie,” Sybil said, with the tone of a woman who decided they were moving on from the subject, “I also want to introduce you to Julian.”
Julian was looking even more exhausted than usual tonight, purple pillows under his bloodshot eyes, a curve of his shoulders that looked like it might topple him.
“You okay?” Betty asked him, once Natalie, Sybil and Zeke had retreated inside because the November air had enough bite to seep into your bones. She liked the steely chill, though, like she had something in common with the elements.
It was still fall weather back in Georgia, and if she were there, it would have been her favorite season. Her parents had always mandated that Betty and Patience cover up, though no such rule was made for the three boys of the family. So summer was excruciating: heavy dresses, long sleeves, sweltering humidity, sticky clothing. Fall meant a respite from that. She could semi-blend in with the other kids; she could stop feeling faint from the heat as her body temperature sizzled underneath all the layers. Her dad would speak about God’s magnificence being reflected in the beauty of the leaves, in the snap of the air, in the season of life, but all Betty could do was think:Thank you, God, for dropping the temperature below eighty. She andPatience used to whisper at night about moving to Canada, where they figured it was always cold, but then Patience turned eighteen and got married that same week, as was customary in their church, to a man their dad picked out, and then she had a baby, and soon, it was clear that Patience was never leaving. And in fact, had maybe never wanted to, not with the way her husband was rising in her dad’s ranks, in the way that Patience stopped whispering with Betty at all. She nodded to her at church on Saturdays and smiled, of course, when they passed each other in the halls and the rectory, but by twenty, Patience wasn’t anything like Betty had remembered her to be. Maybe she was just pretending for her little sister’s sake, telling her fairy tales like other kids read them at bedtime.
Julian sat on a chaise lounge by the pool and stretched out, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. He rotated his ankles, and they cracked loudly enough for Betty to feel his satisfaction from thepop.
“Do you want to be an actor?” he asked, avoiding her question. He was shivering a bit, so Betty grabbed one of the chenille blankets that Sybil had draped over her outdoor couch and laid it atop him.
“I don’t know what I want to be,” she said, resting on the chaise beside him.
He turned to her and met her eyes, his glare serious, but then Julian was nearly always serious.
“If you’re ever in trouble, I want you to come to me.”
Betty felt worry rise in her. She worked to steady her voice. Why would Julian think she was in trouble? How would Julian think she was in trouble?
“Oh, I’m fine. You mean because I don’t sleep? Or because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life? Don’t you have kids my age? Isn’t this part of growing up?”
“I do have a kid your age-ish. Simone is twenty-six.”
“And does she come to you when she’s in trouble?”
Julian smiled at this. “Simone wouldn’t dream of getting in trouble.”
“Dad owns a candy store,” Betty said. “Picture-perfect fairy tale?”
“Something like that,” Julian said.
Betty wondered if it wasn’t something totally different, and Julian just didn’t want to say.
“So what you’re saying is she’s gotten arrested for larceny?”
“No,” Julian said.
