The Shortest Way Home (38 page)

CHAPTER 46

S
ean assumed that Deirdre was working at Carey’s Diner, but when she came downstairs, auburn locks still sticky with hairspray, vestiges of stage makeup around her eyes and hairline, he realized she’d been sleeping all day.

“How’d opening night go?” he asked.

“I didn’t suck,” she said, slumping into a kitchen chair.

“Good girl.” Sean poured a glass of orange juice and set it on the table in front of her.

She squinted up at him. “Is this for me?”

“Yeah, you look like you could use some sugar and vitamin C.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. “No one gets me juice.”

Maybe it was a commiserating response to his own recent reminder of being alone in the world, but Sean felt a surge of sympathy for his sister in that moment. No one got her juice . . . or anything else. As little parenting as Sean had had, Deirdre’d had virtually none. And for all the grief she’d given him over the last two months, he felt forgiveness descend on him like an unexpected blessing.

“How about an egg?” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, how do you like them? I’ll make you any kind you want.”

“Scrambled,” she said. “Geez, I didn’t realize how hungry I was till you said that. I’m freaking
starving
.”

Sean started to laugh. It was so . . . Deirdre.

“Yeah, I know.” She chuckled. “Drama, drama, drama.”

He pulled out a pan and she told him about last night, about how her heart had pounded so hard before her entrance she thought she’d need a defibrillator, about that ecstatic feeling of wanting to give everything to the audience—
everything
. To rock their world with her voice and body and emotion. To knock it out of the park.

They had clapped after her number—hard, she thought, but not so hard that their palms hurt. Enthusiastically, but not wildly. And she had been thrilled and relieved that they hadn’t given her golf claps, polite but subdued. But at the same time disappointed that they hadn’t stood on their seats, screaming and crying and throwing roses onstage.

“Have you ever felt like crazy happy and deeply depressed at the same time?”

“Yeah,” he said. “At work. You’re living in these horrible conditions, and your patients are living in even worse. But then you do something—clean out an infected gash or give some antibiotics, and you know without it they would’ve eventually died, but since you were there, they won’t. And they know it, too, and they are so grateful, Dee. So joyful to live another day. It’s inspiring and heartbreaking all rolled up in one.”

Deirdre nodded. And she smiled at him—a real, loving, sisterly smile. And his heart opened to her all over again.

He set the plate of eggs down before her with a fork and a napkin, and sat down, too. “Listen,” he said. “I should’ve talked to you about this before. I’ll be honest, I’m a little whacked out because I just got dumped last night.”

“You liked her, huh.”

“Yeah. A lot. Too much, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Been there,” she said, nodding, and he wondered about it. Of course she’d been with guys, he figured. He was about to ask her how she’d handled it, but she cut in first with, “So what’d you neglect to tell me, in your kicked-to-the-curb state?”

“I took Kevin to see Da yesterday.”

Her eyes went half-lidded with false disinterest. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah, okay, let me finish. So they kind of hit it off. And Da’s been bugging me to go to Ireland with him. I said absolutely not about ten different times, and then the two of them wore me down.”

“You’re
leaving
? Goddamn it, Sean, you can’t just fucking—”

“Whoa, I know, okay, I
know
. So here’s my proposal, and you can accept or reject it, but just hear me out first. Kevin and Da and I leave for Ireland on Sunday, the day your show ends. Would you be willing to stay for one week, look after Viv and the dog, and then you can sail off into the sunset when we get back?”

She stewed on this, eyes simmering with suspicion. “So what does that mean, exactly? I can leave because you’re staying?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay until I figure out what to do. I’m going to try and hire some kind of housekeeper-caretaker.”

“Someone good, Sean. Someone who can really deal with all of it, not just toss groceries in the fridge and keep the bathroom clean. You have to
promise
.”

“Jesus, I promise, okay?”

“And if it doesn’t work out it’s on you,” she said. “You won’t call me in a month and say I have to come back because you’re jetting off to Siberia?”

He sighed. Jesus, what was he agreeing to—and what choice did he have? “Yeah,” he said. “I won’t call you.”

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “I feel like I just got released from a Turkish prison.”

He chuckled. So dramatic. “One thing,” he said. “When you make it big,
you’re
footing the bill for the hired help. Because we both know I’m never going to make any money.”

“Type up the contract, Mr. Ziegfeld, I’m ready to sign.”

* * *

S
ean called Cormac to see if he’d wanted the extra ticket to Deirdre’s show—Rebecca’s ticket—and caught him up on the latest developments. “Wow,” Cormac said. “For a guy who hates complications . . .”

“Yeah, I know, you practically need Cliff’s Notes to follow them all.”

Cormac laughed out loud, and Sean was grateful. At least his sense of humor kicked in sporadically. It was the only relief he got. And it was fleeting.

Cormac called the theater and was able to get another ticket for Barb. They would drive on their own in case Barb wanted to leave. “Still a little up and down,” he explained.

* * *

T
he Worcester Footlight Theatre was a hundred years old. It had recently been completely renovated, every fleur-de-lis and winged cherub replastered and regilded.

“Pretty fancy,” said Kevin.

“Worth wearing a button-down shirt for?” said Sean, holding Aunt Vivvy’s elbow as they climbed the polished marble steps.

“I guess,” grumbled Kevin. The shirt collar bugged him, and they’d butted heads about it. Sean had won out, saying Kevin should show respect for Aunt Deirdre, and make himself get used to things a little. Kevin had thrown the tie on the floor. It was a compromise.

When they reached their seats, Cormac and Barb were already there. Cormac greeted Aunt Vivvy with a respectful handshake and Kevin with a high five. Sean gave Barb a hug, and she gripped him tightly. “I’m praying for you, Sean,” she whispered in his ear.

“I’m praying for you, too, picture taker,” he said, and sent one up right there on the spot.

“Thanks,” she said. “Thanks
so much
.”

The hug had gone on for a few moments now, and Cormac said, “Dude!” playing the jealous husband. But when Barb let him go, Sean could see the gratitude behind his friend’s posturing.
Hug my wife
, his faux-indignation seemed to say.
She needs
it.

* * *

A
s they waited for the curtain to go up, Sean gave Kevin an overview of the story. Joseph was one of the twelve sons of Jacob, he explained. Jacob loved Joseph so much that he gave him a really expensive coat. The other brothers were jealous, especially when Joseph started having dreams that he would rule over them one day. They were so angry they sold him into slavery.

“Slavery?”
Kevin was skeptical.

“Yeah, slaves were pretty common back then. This is a story from the Bible—you knew that, right?”

“How would I know that?”

Sean smiled. “Sorry, I forgot to mention it. So he ends up being a slave for a guy named Potiphar. Then Mrs. Potiphar . . .” How did you explain seduction to an eleven-year-old? Sean decided it wasn’t a good idea to go into it. “Well, she had kind of a crush on Joseph, and Mr. Potiphar got mad and sent Joseph to jail.”

“Aunt Deirdre plays the guy’s wife, right, so she’s the one who gets Joseph in trouble?”

“Yeah.”

Kevin grinned. “This’ll be good. Aunt Deirdre’s good at acting mean.”

When Deirdre made her entrance, she was dressed in a tight black sequined gown and headdress. It was glamorous, but also somehow lewd. It wasn’t the dress, Sean realized. Though her movements were minimal, smoking a cigarette from a long holder and leaning back sensuously, Deirdre exuded a persona that was half starlet, half dominatrix.

The chorus sang, “She was beautiful, but—”

“Evil,”
Deirdre replied. And she was.

When she began to force herself on poor Joseph—who didn’t look as horrified by the proposition as he was supposed to, in Sean’s opinion—running her hands over his bare chest and squeezing his buttocks, Kevin’s eyebrows went up so high they almost met his hairline. He glanced over at Sean, who had no idea how to react. The boy’s aunt was acting like a millionaire porn star, for godsake. He decided to go with a look of shock. Kevin giggled silently at this and went back to watching the show.

When Deirdre’s scene was over, the audience clapped enthusiastically. Sean let out a whoop and Cormac whistled loudly, which served to extend the applause. Kevin clapped hard and fast, his small hands a blur. They grinned triumphantly at each other for their small part in Deirdre’s success. Sean found himself hoping there was some Broadway bigwig in the audience noticing the unfettered appreciation of her performance.

At intermission they all got up to stretch, and Aunt Vivvy murmured to Sean that a trip to the powder room might be in order. The two of them shuffled toward the lobby with the rest of the crowd. As they approached the back of the theater, Sean saw him—Da, dressed in a suit jacket, a bouquet of pink roses in his lap. Sean didn’t know what to say. On the one hand Da had been told in no uncertain terms not to come. On the other, it was his one chance to see his daughter. “Enjoying the show?” Sean asked him when their eyes met.

“Very much,” said Da. “She’s brilliant.” He glanced to Aunt Vivvy, whose grip on Sean’s arm was starting to leave marks. “Vivian,” said Da. “Faith, you’re a sight altogether.” It was clear to Sean he was taunting her, his brogue harsher, his phrasing distinctly Irish. He sounded like the Lucky Charms leprechaun.

“Martin,” she replied coldly. “You’ve returned.”

His jaw tightened at her parry.

“Okay,” said Sean, briskly. “We’re off to the powder room.”

“Would you give these to your sister?” Da asked him. “I won’t be here at the end of the show. Tell her they’re from you.” Sean took the flowers and guided his aunt out to the lobby.

“The unmitigated gall,” she muttered. “You throw those weeds directly into the trash.” And she released him as she entered the ladies’ room.

When she returned she gazed pointedly at the bouquet in his hands. “You’ll do his bidding.” It was as close to a sneer as he’d ever heard from his aunt.

“Someday Deirdre might like to know that he gave her something,” said Sean quietly. “And one thing I won’t do is get in the middle of your grudge match. It’s almost thirty years now, Auntie. Enough is enough.”

* * *

A
fter the show, they made their way backstage and found Deirdre. She had changed out of the slinky sequined dress, but her stage makeup remained, her face still resembling something from an Egyptian tomb. They congratulated her, grinning awkwardly, feeling like star-struck fans. Even Aunt Vivvy said, “Brava, my dear.”

Sean presented the roses, saying only, “These are for you.”

Deirdre accepted the flowers and compliments graciously. “It was such a great crowd tonight,” she said. “The whole cast could feel it. I’m going to miss that in New York—audiences are so much tougher there.”

“You’re going to New York?” said Kevin.

“Um, yeah,” said Deirdre, glancing at Sean. “But not till you get back from Ireland, so I’ll definitely see you.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, clearly uncertain as to why this was so important.

The cast was being called for director’s notes; Deirdre said good-bye and hurried off.

Later, when they pulled into the driveway, Kevin scrambled out of the car to reassure George that she hadn’t been left for good. Aunt Vivvy turned to Sean. “Please don’t keep Kevin in the dark about Deirdre’s departure,” she said. “He needs to be prepared for what’s to come.”

As Sean and Aunt Vivvy made their way up the walk, they could hear George barking maniacally. “I’m coming!” Kevin called, as he heaved himself against the uncooperative door. When it popped open the dog jumped up, and Kevin stumbled back onto the porch. “Whoa! Hey!” he yelled, batting her down. “No jumping!” She obeyed, but continued her loud barking.
“Chtch!”
he told her. She barked once and then soothed herself by circling him several times. He could barely take a step. “I know!” He laughed. “You missed me—I get it!”

Aunt Vivvy gave Sean a look.
I know,
he almost told her.
I get
it.

* * *

B
efore bed, Sean went to say good night to Kevin. He sat down on the edge of the bed and straightened out the weighted blanket, which tended to get bunched up if Kevin moved around too much. “So, what did you think of Aunt Deirdre tonight?”

“She’s pretty good at getting all creepy and weird.” Kevin grinned.

“True.” Sean smiled. “So, there’s something I need to tell you. You know how much Aunt Dee loves being onstage.”

“Like crazy.”

“Yeah. And the best place to try and be a stage actor is New York City.”

“She said she was going down there when we get back from our trip.”

“She is. Actually . . . she’s moving there.”

Kevin’s eyes blinked, calculating the implications. “For how long?”

“For a while. Like maybe years.”

A look of horror grew on Kevin’s face. “Am I going with her?”

“No! You’re staying right here.”

“Okay.” He sighed, relieved. “Because I’ve seen TV shows that’re in New York City, and it looks really loud and crammed in.”

“That’s an accurate description.” Sean nodded, enjoying the brief calm before what he knew would be Kevin’s next realization.