“Presentation. Let's refocus!”
I'm not ready to talk to anyone about that kiss that wasn't really a kiss.
I'm not even ready to think about it. Because the truth is, kissing Keegan made me feel things I'm not ready to admit out loud. It brought back all the yearning and angst from the first few months of our friendship. From that awkward time in my life when I wanted more from him than just friendship.
I can't go back to that place. Certainly not now when our friendship is finally back on track after the Ollie years.
Keegan and Ollie never got along. It sucks when your best friend dislikes your boyfriend. And it sucks even more when you realize he was right.
Ollie was never an overtly horrible boyfriend. There were no blazing red flags. He wasn't controlling or emotionally abusive. Thank goodness. But he also wasn't the guy I thought he was when we got together. When we met, he seemed ambitious. Smart and full of big ideas. He was going to start his own company and create world-changing apps.
But somehow, his ideas never quite came together. The ideas always seemed great, but there was always ... something. Some reason why his plans didn't come together. Some person or situation that was holding him back. His partner was a sellout who left to “work for the man,” some collaborator he was counting on left the country, the VC money he needed fell through. The failures were never his fault. The blame always belonged somewhere else.
Still, I stuck with it. I stuck with him. Covering his half of the rent. Buying the expensive half of the groceries. Loaning him my car even though he never filled up the tank. I was there. Until suddenly, the person “holding him back” was me.
I could put up with a lot, but even I saw that for what it was.
And when I needed someone to help me pick up my life when Ollie and I broke up, Keegan was there. He showed up. No questions asked. He held me as I cried. He brought me chocolates. When he found out that Ollie hadn't moved out yet, he helped Ollie pack up his stuff and move, for Christ’s sake. At least, that's what I assumed happened. Because the day after Keegan found out that Ollie hadn't actually left, Reb showed up to take me to breakfast and when we got back, Ollie and all his stuff were just gone.
Point is, I just got Keegan back as a friend. I can't let myself question the boundaries of our relationship.
“I have f-f-four days to figure out how to give a presentation that could make or break my career. And between now and then, I also have to attend a friggin' gala that I do not know how to dress for or how to act at. Let's focus on those problems.”
Thea gives a smile so bright I see the lingering star power that got her in movies. “Oh, I already have solutions to those problems.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do.” She practically beams. “It's Marion Davies.”
I look over at Reb, who looks as baffled as I am. “Who?”
“The actress,” Thea supplied. “Marion Davies. She's the key.”
“Wasn't she William Randolph Hearst's mistress?” Reb asks.
“Oh, you are a smart one.” Thea winks at Reb, patting her on the arm. “But she was so much more than that! She was one of the most talented actresses of the time. A true comedic genius. I met her once, you know. Just as kind and generous as—”
“What's this have to do with Meg?”
“Why, everything. Marion Davies spoke with a stutter. In the golden age of silent films, her stutter was never an issue, but when talkies came out, everyone feared her career would be over.”
My heart spasms at the thought, making my chest feel tight and my breathing panicky. My situation is bad enough. What would it be like to have your entire career upended because the technology evolved, and suddenly you can't do your career at all?
“That's horrible,” I say, surreptitiously rubbing at the spot on my chest where I'm pretty sure I'm developing heartburn from this story. I mean, at least it's distracting me (and Reb) from the drama with Keegan, but still ... “What did she do?”
“In nineteen twenty-nine, Marion starred in her first talkie,Marianne. Everyone who knew of her predicament was terrified for her, but when the movie was released, she sang, she danced, she even spoke with an accent. And she never stuttered once.”
“I don't understand. Did they hire someone to do a voice over?”
“Not at all,” Thea beams, clearly pleased with herself. “You see, Marion Davies stuttered, but her character, Marianne, did not.”
“I don't understand. She just pretended she didn't have a stutter, so she didn't?”
“Exactly.” Her eyes barely crinkled at the corners as she beamed at me, as if I were a star pupil. “All you have to do is create a character to play. An alternate persona, if you will. One who doesn't stutter.”
chaptereight
My breath catchesin my throat as I process Thea’s suggestion. Could it really be that simple? Could this really be the answer? After a lifetime of stuttering, of awkward silences and pitying glances, of avoiding words I thought might trip me up?
