Ascent (24 page)

He looks at Mom. She’s still talking to Greg. “Okay, I’ll talk to her.’

He walks over to her and grabs her arm. Mom pulls it away and they walk away from the patio. They’re arguing. Mom’s waving her hands in the air. Acting was always more important. It was all she ever wanted.

After an eternity, Dad returns.

“Let’s go, Farrah.”

“Dad.”

“Come on, Farrah.”

“Mom?”

“I’ll be home later, Farrah.”

I don’t get up. Dad’s waiting. Tears fill my eyes. Dad gives me a strange look.

“Mom, please? Will you come with us?”

Her face softens, but it’s not enough. “Later, Farrah, I’ll be home later. I promise.”

Dad grabs my hand and pulls me away.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Farrah–Kate

Mom jumped from a window of the South Beverly Hotel at 12:31 AM. Dad puts me to bed at 10:00 PM. At 10:15 the lights go out. The house is quiet. I wait until 10:30 before I get out of bed. I hid a flashlight under my bed along with a hundred dollars in cash that I took from under Mom and Dad’s mattress.

My past is changing. That night I went right to sleep. But this night is different. I flash the light over my clothes and pull out jeans and a sweater. The evenings are still chilly and I have a long way to go.

I open the door as quietly as I can and look down the hall towards Dad’s room. The lights are out. The sound of snoring drifts down the hall. I walk across the living room and out the front door.

***

The streets are quiet. I walk to the bus stop with my head down. Cars pass by. No one stops. I sit on a bench at a deserted bus stop. I hope no one calls the cops.

The bus driver gives me a curious look when he opens the door. I put a dollar in the machine and walk to the back. The bus is almost deserted. A woman hums to herself. There’s a pile of plastic bags in her lap. She looks up at me as I pass.

The bus bounces along the road. I sit in my seat with my head down until my stop. When I get off the woman smiles at me when I pass.

“It’ll be okay, dear. You do what you need to do. Whatever it is, you’ll be successful. Just believe.”

I stop and look at her. She’s missing three teeth. She gives me a big smile.

And then I walk off the bus.

***

A clock in the lobby says it’s 11:59 PM. The bus ride took longer than I expected. I’m almost late.

I know Mom jumped from the rooftop. I also know I don’t want anyone to see me.

A guy and a girl in the South Beverly Hotel uniform stand behind the counter. Neither of them looks at me. Maybe I’m stuck in a time warp and I’m invisible. Or maybe they just don’t care.

There’s a guard by the elevators. I keep my eyes down and turn around. I need to get up to the rooftop.

I head straight to the elevator without looking anyone and press the up arrow. The security guard stares at me. I feel his eyes on my back.

I don’t dare move. If I make eye contact with him he’ll call the cops and report me.

But I pretend like I belong. Like I’m a hotel guest just returning to my room, back to where my parents are, like I totally belong here.

The elevator dings, the door opens up and I step inside without anyone saying a word.

***

The elevator doesn’t go to the rooftop. Instead I get off on the top floor. The sound of music is deafening. Anyone trying to sleep would call the cops.

But the South Beverly is a party hotel and industry people only come here for one reason.

I follow the sound of the noise to a door that says ‘Exit’ in glowing red letters. I turn the handle, expecting it to be locked – and it turns with no problems. Now the music gets even louder.

A clock in the hallway says it’s 12:15 AM. It’s almost time. I hope the wheels of time haven’t already started.

I slink against the wall, trying to stay invisible in the shadows. A couple comes down the stairs: a wobbly woman in the arms of a man who’s pulling her along. She laughs at something he says.

She sees me in the hallway. “Are you lost, sweetie?” She stops and examines me in the shadows. I cower against the wall and don’t answer. “You don’t want to go up there; you don’t want to see what’s going on.”

“I’m looking for someone,” I whisper.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for up there. It’s just a bunch of drugged out Hollywood wannabes. Where are you parents? You should let me call security so you can go back to your room.”

“No, don’t do that –”

She gives me a skeptical look. “Okay, suit yourself.”

Then the couple walks down the stairs and disappear into the dark.

***

The rooftop is just the way the woman described. Everyone on top is laughing at their own jokes. Bodies sway in the glow of the lights. The air smells like smoke – and it’s not cigarette smoke, either.

I hear her before I see her. She’s in the corner half crying and half yelling at a guy who is twice her size.

And she’s leaning against a railing.

Too close to the edge.

“Mom!”

I can’t help myself. I know I should be calmer but this is how it happened. She tumbled over the edge to the sidewalk below. No one could say if it was an accident or on purpose. Now that I can see how out of it everyone is, I can understand way.

One of her hands clutches the rail. The other holds a martini glass, liquid sloshing around inside it. Her mascara has dripped down her cheeks. The guy has his hand on her waist and is telling her something. She’s shaking her head violently back and forth. Her whole body sways with her. It’s a wonder she hasn’t already tumbled over.

“Mom!”

I run her direction. She doesn’t see me. She doesn’t hear me. I’m not sure she sees or hears anything but the man standing in front of her.

“Look, Lynette. I can help you get a part. I just need you to come back to my room so you can look at the script. You can do a reading for me.”

“I don’t … I don’t do those kind of movies.” Her voice is a whisper.

“Lynette, that’s all that’s left, and you barely have that. If you come back to the room I can see what you’ve got. But if you don’t, I’m afraid all the doors will be closed for you.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and she moves closer to the rail.

“I …”

“You should come with me, Lynette; it’s your only chance. You’re too old for anything else. The only women getting parts at your age are on the A-Lister. Everyone else is doing my films.”

“I don’t …”

He reaches over to grab her arm and she leans against the rail.

“Mom!”

I push my way past him. He smells like the cologne they sell at Walgreens. It takes Mom a minute to realize who I am.

“Farrah? What in the hell are you doing here? Where’s Bill?” Her words are slurred, but firm. Like she’s been snapped out of a trance.

“I came to get you,” I whisper.

She gives me a confused look. Her brow wrinkles as she examines me. “How did you know I was here?” she asks.

I don’t know what to say. Instead I grab her hand and gently pull her away from the edge. I can feel the past changing. Time is moving forward. Mom’s date with the sidewalk below has changed.

“I want to go home.”

She looks over my shoulder at the man. I can feel his eyes boring into me. Disgust fills Mom’s face. Mom is desperate. She’d do anything to return to work – but not that. She’d rather give up then work for a man like him.

“Farrah, I’ll have to call Dad to come get you.”

I cry. I wasn’t expecting to but I can’t leave without her. “I want you to come too.”

Mom looks around the party. At topless women dancing on the rooftop, the air filled with cigarette smoke. The man across from us.

Her face looks dejected. Like her last chance at a career is moving away.

But so is her date with death.

“Farrah… I…”

“Mom, please?” My voice is desperate. I can’t let her stay.

She hesitates and looks around. The topless woman bends over and shakes her butt in the air. “Okay, let’s go.”

She heads towards the door and I grab her hand. It’s cold and damp. And she pulls me out the door.

***

Mom gets in the cab and sits in the backseat. Mascara puddles build on her cheeks. She smells like an ashtray. But here she is, alive. Still alive. It’s 12:55 AM.

She leans her head against the window. Tears drip down her cheeks. The cab driver looks in the rearview mirror and gives her a curious look. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead he just pulls out into the sparse traffic and drives us home.

Mom won’t act again. And she knows it. Her night with industry people crushed reality right over her head.

But if she takes it one day at a time she can find another path. A new place in life.

I watch the world pass by outside the window. I marvel at it: the past – a different past. Nine years ago everything was different. Mom was lying on a sidewalk surrounded by gawkers and now she’s in a cab on her way home.

Dr. Thompson was right. You can change your past.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Farrah–Kate

That night I dream Mom and I are on the pier, eating ice cream, watching families pass by. Soft giggles fill the air and the smell of hot dogs wafts over our heads. Then I wake up to silence. Am I home alone? I squint my eyes at the clock by my bed. It’s 9:30. Mom should have woken me up an hour ago.

I swing my legs out of bed, touching down on the cold tiles, and I immediately search for my slippers, fluffy pink slippers that look like they’ve been worn a million times. The house is still silent. Dad is long gone to school. They fought last night when we returned. It lasted almost the entire night.

My slippers make a soft padding sound. I walk into the kitchen and pour an overflowing bowl of sugar filled Lucky Charms. Mom hates cereal full of sugar like that. She always insisted my addiction to sugar was the reason all the other girls in the class were taller. Whatever hopes Mom had for me to be an actress or a model were erased by sugar filled cereal made by corporations that were too cheap to make anything healthier.

I take my bowl of cereal to the couch and flip on the last of the morning cartoons, breaking the silence with comic voices. I should be alarmed but I’m not. Instead I take this quiet morning as an opportunity to eat another bowl of cereal with sugar sprinkled on top.

Three bowls of cereal later the house is still quiet. I consider going down to knock on Mom’s door but she was up late last night so instead I head to the refrigerator for a Coke. Mom never lets me drink Coke.

The phone rings. The TV has moved away from cartoons and onto soap operas. The answering machine picks up. It’s a call back from Mom’s audition. They want to see her again. None of us thought they’d call.

My eight-year-old self is excited. It’s the perfect reason to disturb her sleep or whatever she’s doing in her room. I pad down the hall. My slippers barely make a sound.

I’m scared to knock on the door. I hate disturbing Mom.

“Mom?”

Silence.

I wait, thinking maybe she’s asleep. I can hear the seconds ticking by on the grandfather clock in the hallway and the sound of commercials playing from the living room. Mom’s bedroom is completely silent. I knock again, louder this time.

“Mom?”

Still no answer.

The clock says it 11:45 AM. Her hangover should be gone. I stand outside her door and wait for a sound. Any sound to tell me she’s on the other side of the door, maybe reading a book or getting ready for the day. But there’s still nothing but quiet and goose bumps break out up and down my arms.

I knock again.

Nothing.

“Mom? Can I come in?”

I twist the doorknob and push the door open. It squeaks. Dad keeps saying he’s going to grease all the doors in the house, but he never does.

The room is dark. The blinds are still pulled and I can make out her figure on her bed. She’s still asleep. I walk quietly towards her.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

She moves and opens her eyes. She hasn’t washed off the makeup from the night before. Her blonde hair is a mess, she looks like a wreck, and she smells like a bar.

But she’s still alive.

And that’s all that matters.

“Good morning, Farrah. What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“Oh Lord, I better get up then. I can’t believe I slept that late.” She sits up and rubs her head. “Don’t ever show up like that again. It’s not safe for you to be out at night by yourself!”

“I won’t, Mom.” I hesitate with my good news. Last night Mom thought her career was over and now, because she’s still here, she gets another chance. “There’s a message for you on the machine.”