The Garden of Small Beginnings, page 18
“Lilian! Thanks for reaching out!” That’s how Mel talks, all exclamation points and italics.
“Hi, Melanie, how are you?”
“I’m fantastic, but more importantly, how are you? The news just got out about Poplar, and I am so excited!”
“I didn’t know there was anything to be excited about.”
She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? There is nothing, nothing, that happens in publishing in L.A. that I don’t know about. It’s not like New York, with publishers all over the place.”
“Really?”
“Noth-ing.” She was actually nearly yelling. Who knew the intricacies of publishing were so compelling? “You’re a hot commodity right now, which is superlucky in this economy, right?” She goes up on the ends of her sentences, too, like a teenager, but it’s OK. Optimism is a key requirement for her job, I imagine. “Two companies are already interested in talking to you, which is fabulous! Do you have your calendar in front of you?”
I actually had a blank piece of paper in front of me, but seeing as I had nothing planned for the rest of my life, same same. I could actually meet with one of the companies that afternoon, and the other the following week.
“So the one today is another niche publishing house, but they don’t do textbooks. They do something else.” She paused. “I can’t read my assistant’s writing here. It looks like esoteric, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, but anyway, some kind of books. They need an illustrator—do you have a portfolio with you?”
“Nope, but I can run home and get it before the interview. It hasn’t been dusted off in a while.”
She clicked her tongue. “Well, then, after your meeting this afternoon you should spend some time going through it and updating. You’ll need a revised résumé, of course, and maybe a head shot. Do you still look like you did in college?”
“Skinny and pale and wearing a Duran Duran T-shirt? No.”
“Did you get fat?” My God, she was blunt.
“No. I just had two kids and lost my husband.”
She sighed. “Yes, I remember. Very sad. But presumably you lost weight?”
Now I sighed. She was focused on her product, and seeing as her product was me, I should try and be a little more helpful. “Mel, I still basically look the same, but older. But why would anyone want to see a photo of an illustrator or graphic designer?”
“No idea,” she replied airily. “But if you’d won the Nobel Peace Prize, I’d mention it, too, and you used to look like a model, so we should use whatever we have that will make you stand out from the crowd, right?”
Right. “Well, I don’t have a head shot, so we’ll just have to muddle through somehow without it.”
She was not thrown. “Well, if we don’t find you a job quickly, we can always get some taken. Don’t worry, Lili, we will get you a great job really soon, OK?”
Super.
• • •
The interview that afternoon was actually not very far from my office, which would have been convenient except I had to run home to grab my portfolio and get changed. I had one nice suit, which, miraculously, still fit me, and I put a Cat in the Hat T-shirt under it, because I am A Funky Person and an Artist, and because it was clean. Now that I was being forced to change jobs, I found myself wondering a lot about what kind of work I actually wanted to do, and something a little more unusual than textbooks would be good. I was almost excited . . . and only thought about Edward every third minute. Every second minute or so I spent feeling guilty about Annabel, which left me only one minute in three to be excited.
The company was in a slightly older building than mine, which was nice. More windows, less cubicles. Big open spaces with desks scattered around, a nice fancy coffee machine, and cool images on the walls.
My meeting was with James Peach—my new favorite name—who was their creative director. He turned out to be young and good-looking, which wasn’t his fault, and he gave me a slightly appreciative look when he met me in the reception area. So far, so good.
He led me back to his office, and I tried to pay attention to what he was saying and check out the work space at the same time. It didn’t seem very busy. Nobody was running around yelling, and everyone who caught my eye smiled as I passed.
His office was simple but stylish, and all in all, the whole place was giving me a cool vibe. I was starting to think whatever the job was, I wanted it.
James sat down and smiled. “So, have you worked a lot in porn before?”
“I’m sorry?”
He kept smiling. “Erotica. Have you worked in adult books before?”
Erotic. Not esoteric.
I cleared my throat, willing myself to stay calm and not blush. “I’m not sure what you mean. For the past ten years or so, I’ve worked at a textbook publisher. We did a wide variety of titles, mostly for the school and college market.”
He reached up to a bookshelf behind him and pulled down some hardback books. “We do titles for the college market, too, but they’re not really textbooks. Although, they do have instructional value.” He laughed, but not in a filthy-pornographer way. Maybe I was mishearing everything he was saying. I looked at the books he’d handed me. He was still talking.
“Most of them are erotic fiction, although some are more hard-core than others. Our niche, which is a very successful one, is illustrated texts. Somehow pornography becomes erotica when it’s illustrated rather than photographed. And we catch the graphic-novel audience, too.”
I had opened Tale of Six Titties at random, and was looking at three women licking each other. In pen and ink, mind you, and done with great attention to detail. I flipped open Come with the Wind and discovered that some people had been fiddling while Atlanta burned. I wasn’t really sure what to say.
Mr. Peach had stopped talking. I looked at him. His mouth was twitching.
“I’m going to guess you had no idea what kind of job this was, am I right?”
I nodded.
“And you look a little shocked, to be honest.”
I got my voice back. “I’m not shocked because I think there’s anything wrong with it. I’m just surprised because it’s unexpected.” I held up The Mound and the Furry. “I didn’t know this kind of book existed. I didn’t even know people wanted marmots to do this stuff.”
He held up his hand. “No marmots were actually involved. That’s the nice thing about this type of book.” He sighed. “I started this company because there was a lot of money in pornography and, as a result, a lot of exploitation. I felt there must be another way, and there is. We create fantasy, that’s all. You would not believe what our writers dream up, and a lot of it is informed by what our readers tell us they want to see. There’s a whole alien subgenre, for example, that would be ridiculous in photographs but which takes on a magical aspect in illustration.” He looked disappointed. “I guess you’re not interested in the job?”
He had handed me an alien book, and I was looking at a beautiful illustration of a creature with three multitasking appendages. It was lovely work, technically, but not for me.
“I don’t think it’s really my style. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. For those of us who work here, it’s a dream come true. I want everyone here to feel the same way.” To which there is no adequate response.
We stood up and shook hands, and I walked back through the office, looking at things a little differently. No wonder everyone was smiling at me. They were all horny.
I called Melanie. She needed to get a better assistant.
But at least I knew that if all else failed, I could get a job where my previous experience with whale penises might actually come in handy.
• • •
Angela called early the next morning, which was a pleasant surprise. “Do your kids have today off school?”
“Yeah, it’s some kind of holiday, right?”
“Who knows? Anyway, I was thinking that I would take you up on your playdate offer, if it still stands?” I was lounging in the kitchen, enjoying the small fermata between emptying the dishwasher and reloading it. It’s a glamorous life.
“Of course, that would be great. In fact, Rachel was planning on coming over to hang out after work, and we’d talked about going out to dinner. Why don’t you come over in the afternoon, and we can leave the kids with my babysitter and grab an early dinner somewhere. It will be fun.” I hung up, pleased to have a plan.
The kids were thrilled to show Bash the fairy house. Despite the fact that they had grown up in different environments, the three kids got along flawlessly, proving yet again that children are our future. Angie, Rachel, and I let them lead the way by sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee while they played in the garden.
Angie did her best to get details about Bob out of Rachel, but she underestimated her.
“I’ve got nothing to tell,” Rachel insisted. “There’s really nothing going on. We’ve had one dinner, and I’ve had about seven filthy dreams, but that’s it. At dinner, all he talked about was rotation farming. I don’t even know what it is, although presumably it involves rotating in some way.” She turned up her palms. “Sorry, but I don’t think he likes being objectified for his looks.”
Angie snorted. “That’s right, men hate it when you think of them as sex objects. It makes them feel all anxious and small inside.”
“It belittles their spiritual side,” I added, “and crushes their dreams.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows at me. “Did I walk into some kind of Wiccan anti-men coven?”
I shrugged. “Look, don’t try and change the subject. We’re not mocking men. We like men. We’re mocking you.”
Angie nodded. “You’re the only one here who has any kind of romantic life.” She turned to me. “Although I might be wrong about that. Sorry for making an assumption, Lili, and we need you to share details.”
“It’s not just an assumption. It’s a fact.” I pointed out the window. “Did you meet my birth control?” Rachel knew I didn’t want to talk about Edward with anyone, least of all someone who actually knew who he was, so she stayed quiet. With every day that passed, it was getting easier to pretend that the kiss in the kitchen had never happened.
Angie laughed. “I know. It’s not that I’m not occasionally interested in romance, or even just sex. It’s just that the chances of my interest coinciding with opportunity and, more important, physical energy are very remote.”
Rachel frowned. “You guys make it very hard for us single women to look forward to having kids.”
Angie and I spoke in unison. “Good.”
Maggie appeared, having let herself in. Frank stood up to greet her, his tail going a mile a minute.
“Nice guard dog you have, Lili.” She looked at Angie and grinned, sticking out her hand. “Hi, I’m Maggie, Lili’s sister-in-law, recently arrived from Italy, where my husband is having an affair.”
Angie paused for just a second, then went with it. “Hi, I’m Angie, a friend of Lili and Rachel from gardening class, recently arrived from South Central L.A., where my ex-husband is doing something I couldn’t care less about.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“And you.”
Maggie sat, then immediately stood to get herself some coffee. “You know,” she said, “when I moved to Italy, Americans were all drinking Folgers, and now you guys are drinking better coffee than the Italians. What gives?”
The kids came bursting into the kitchen.
“I broke my fairy’s wings!” Clare was distressed.
“We can fix it,” Bash said, calm and confident. “My mom is a nurse.”
Angie took the tiny fairy from Clare and examined it. “Hmm. I think we’re OK. A little glue should do it.”
I fetched the glue and she expertly performed the repair. “You guys go back out and play. The glue will take a few minutes to dry. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Bash took Clare by the hand and led her away. “You can play with my fairy, Clare.”
We all watched them. Maggie sighed. “At least Clare found a nice guy.”
Angie sniffed. “It’ll be fine until she doesn’t turn into a fighting robot with laser vision, then he’ll lose interest.” She looked at me and shrugged. “I have to be honest.”
“No, that’s fine. They’re doomed to failure anyway. The divorce rate among the elementary set is brutal. Most marriages don’t even make it to recess.”
However, Clare, Bash, and Annabel played peacefully until suppertime, and then, when Leah arrived, settled down to watch a movie on the sofa. We’d decided to just make it a sleepover, so we could stay out later, and this had been thrilling news to the kids.
Feeling like a TV show, the four of us got dressed up a bit and headed out the door.
“No strip joints this time, OK, Rachel?” Maggie sounded firm.
Angie raised her eyebrows. “I missed the strip club? That’s not fair.”
“You didn’t really miss anything. What do we all want to eat?”
“Italian.”
“Sushi.”
“French.”
“Burgers.”
We stood on the street and looked at each other. “Come on, ladies, let’s work together here.” I put on my best Mommy voice. “I’m sure there’s something we can choose that will make us all happy.”
“I’m suddenly very hungry,” warned Rachel, who’d wanted burgers. “And I need to eat soon or I will get cranky.”
I put up my hand. “How about this? How about we just go to the Grove? There are lots of options for eating, and then we can see a movie, or wander around the bookstore, or whatever.” The Grove is a big outdoor mall. It’s got a fountain and a movie theater and all that good stuff, and is a harmless way to spend time. And money.
“Good plan,” Angie responded. “I’ve never been there.”
“Although,” Rachel said, not sounding so into it, “it can be supercrowded.”
I looked at my watch. “At 6:00 P.M. on a weeknight? You think?”
Maggie was already heading off. “Let’s just go see. Honestly, the worst thing about a girls’ night out is the endless agreeable talking. Come on!”
• • •
As it happened, The Grove was showing off for the tourists. A band was playing on the grassy area, and the fountain was doing its fancy fountain tricks (jets of water shooting high into the air, colored lights, that kind of thing). It was pleasantly busy, but not crowded, and we got a table right away at a French place with a huge menu. Rachel ordered a burger, I ordered spaghetti, Maggie ordered a BLT, and Angie ordered French onion soup. Everyone was happy. See? Mommy was right.
“So, Angie,” Maggie said, “what’s your deal? You said you have an ex-husband, and I met your son, but do you have a boyfriend or something?”
Angie shook her head. Maggie persisted.
“Girlfriend?”
Angie shook her head.
Rachel leaned over. “Are you interested in Mike?”
Angie smiled. “I like Mike, don’t get me wrong, but we couldn’t be more different.”
Maggie was confused. “Who’s Mike? Am I supposed to know?”
I shook my head. “No, he’s someone from our gardening class.”
I raised a hand to ask for coffee, while Rachel persisted. “Yeah, you’re different, but sometimes that’s interesting. Do you find him attractive?”
Angie laughed. “Of course, don’t you? He’s gorgeous.”
There was a pause. Rachel and I looked at each other. Mike was nice-looking, but he was not in any way gorgeous, in my humble opinion. Rachel answered for both of us. “He’s cute, but he’s no Impossibly Handsome Bob.”
“Really?” Angie looked genuinely surprised. “Huh. I think he’s totally hot.”
We let the subject drop as we consulted the dessert menu. Four pieces of chocolate cake later, we stumbled out of the restaurant and went to sit down on the grass for a bit. To digest.
It was nice, sitting there. I was zoning out when I noticed a man gazing at Rachel with all the concentration of a puppy watching a toddler eat ice cream. I nudged her. “That guy is checking you out.”
She looked over. “He looks familiar.” She met his eye, and he spoke up.
“I’m sorry to stare, but aren’t you Rachel Anderby?”
She smiled, but it was clear she didn’t remember him. “Yes, have we met?”
All of us were riveted, of course. He was cute, and we were hopeless romantics. A repressed widow, a young divorcée, and a brokenhearted professor? You couldn’t ask for a better audience.
He was blushing a bit as he stood up and came over to sit with us. He was tall, which she would like, and dark haired, which she would also like. He was casually dressed, check; high-cheekboned, check; apparently clean, check, check, check. I leaned back on my elbows to watch. He seemed a little nervous.
“Yes, we met, sort of, but it was a while ago. You gave a talk about international importation law to my company, and I saw you. It, I mean. The talk. I was there.”
Rachel looked amused. “At the talk?”
“Yes.”
“You were there, then.”
“Yes.”
“Which company was it?”
“Bugler, Arthur and Barnes.”
She raised her eyebrows and looked dubious.
“They’re a law firm. I’m a lawyer. We’re lawyers.”
Her face cleared. “Oh, yes! I remember.” She paused. “Wow, it must have been a good talk. That was over a year ago.”
He smiled and seemed to recover his composure a bit. “It was. It was a very good talk.”
