“At the end of the day, you're just a string of words,” I said.
I couldn't believe I was going to do it. I was going to delete the file. And I knew how to delete it permanently too. A computer tech showed me how once when I thought I'd accidentally deleted a file. Now my finger rested on top of the key, ready to push it down. One inadvertent twitch, and the file would be gone.
Leah! Do you realize that if you delete this play, I'll be
gone. Forever! I'll be gone, Leah. Jodie Bellarusa will be gone.
You need me. You can't just throw me in the trash! I'm too
important.
“I don't need you,” I said.
You don't need me? You're such a fool. Don't you get it? I
am you.
I raised my finger a half inch, still letting it hover. But maybe she was right. Jodie Bellarusa was me . . . maybe a part of me that I'd kept hidden for a long time. Maybe she was just a part of me, but if I deleted her . . .
File deleted.
I rolled my chair back, panting like a dog in need of water. I couldn't believe it. I'd done it. I'd deleted my entire play. There was no going back. But in a way, I felt relief too. The play didn't hold any more power over me. Yeah, sure, I would probably have to get a real job, and maybe waitress for a while, or maybe teach writing courses at a local community college, but the burden was gone. I realized I was actually smiling. I was smiling. Really smiling, for the first time in a week.
I realized, too, that I was biting the back of one of my fingers. I released it from the grasp of my teeth and knew what I had to do. I had to call J. R. I dialed her number, hoping she'd still be in the office.
“Yes?”
“J. R., it's Leah.”
“Leah,” she said, sounding both annoyed and relieved. “I thought you might have fallen off the face of the earth.”
“I could be so lucky,” I sighed.
“I'm assuming you got my message? My
messages
.”
“Yes. That's why I'm calling. J. R., I've . . . I've got to tell you something.”
“I'm sure you do, Leah, but before you begin, I . . . I, well, I owe you an”âshe sounded like she was gasping for breathâ“apology.”
I clamped down on the back of my finger again. I didn't realize J. R. was even capable of an apology, and then I wondered what in the world she would be apologizing for. She'd never shied away from criticism.
“Oh . . . um, what for?”
“What for? You are a sweet little nincompoop, aren't you? The fact of the matter is that when I'm wrong I say I'm wrong. I reread your play.”
“You reread my play?”
“I'm certain I didn't stutter. I realized I was particularly harsh. And the truth of the matter is that, well, I stopped smoking. And unfortunately it was the week you sent me those pages. I was very grumpy and not myself, and nothing could make me happy. But since then, I got on the patch, and things are looking much brighter. So I reread your play with the help of the patch, and frankly, Leah, it's quite good. I see glimpses of genius, really. I think it's ahead of its time, and I'm not sure everyone will understand it, but someone will get it, and whoever does will make us all a lot of money.” She paused, and I felt like I might faint. “I've called Peter about it, and he's excited. I was hoping I could count on a few more pages from you. You know how Peter likes a nice, lengthy example. And also . . . ” Her voice went on, but I couldn't decipher anything else she said. It was as if she spoke from a long, dark tunnel, and the next thing I knew, I'd hung up the phone and slid down the wall, crumpled into a tiny ball.
I listened carefully.
But Jodie was silent.
[Rounding the corner, she looks for him.]
I
knew I looked a wreck. I'd attempted to brush my hair, but even that seemed to take too much energy. My face, a display of bright, splotchy patches stained with tears, drew startled expressions from the people I passed. I slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses, but that did little to make me invisible. Sunglasses worn indoors were reserved for celebrities and important people, and I was neither.
I made my way up the stairwell so I wouldn't be stuck on an elevator ride with curious people and managed to reach the fifth floor without collapsing from exhaustion. I opened the door and entered a long corridor lined on both sides with tons of candid pictures from past radio days, framed neatly in black, and hung in exact rows.
Ahead of me was a reception area, and I immediately noticed a security guard standing nearby. I don't know why I was surprised. Of course he needed protection. Protection from crazies like me.
I tried to hold my head high as I approached the receptionist, who looked hip, blonde, and stunningly beautiful. I removed my glasses, and she was kind enough to mask her reaction to my puffy eyes. I glanced at my watch.
“Hi. I'm here to see Cinco Dublin.”
She smiled politely. She surely got that line all day long. “Is he expecting you?”
“No. I'm a . . . friend.”
“A friend.” She smiled again, but this time not politely.
“I'm sorry, but Cinco's on the air right now.”
“He just got off, didn't he?” I looked at my watch again.
She sighed. “He doesn't take visitors without appointments.”
“I understand. If you could just tell him Leah Townsend is here to see him . . .”
She dialed a number and turned away from me as she spoke on the phone. I could hear her mumbling something about a distraught-looking woman. She turned back around and pointed. “He'll see you. Through those doors and to the left. You'll see his office.”
“Thank you.” I walked past the guard and opened the door. As I rounded the corner, I saw an office straight ahead, with a nice view and plenty of space. My heart pounded so hard in my chest that it hurt, but I kept walking forward.
When I entered the office, no one was there. But evidence of Cinco was all around, including a gold-plated radio microphone, Cinco posing with celebrities and politicians, including the president, and all kinds of books and awards. Plus there was a huge American flag hanging against one wall and a gold cross on the other. I noticed a Bible was open on his desk, and I felt strange for being there, like I was intruding.
“Leah.”
I whipped around to see Cinco stride into the room. He took one look at me and quietly shut the door. “Hi,” I said, taking off my glasses. I shoved them into my bag and tried to act like this was a casual visit. But we both knew better.
“Hi. This is unexpected. What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you. I'm sorry to drop by, um, unexpectedly. It's just that . . .” I felt myself choking up.
He took me by the shoulder and guided me to a soft leather chair. “Here, sit down,” he said. He handed me a tissue, then sat in the chair on the other side of his desk. He leaned forward. “Leah, you look awful. What happened? Did you . . . Did things not go well with Edward?”
I couldn't even look at him. I stared at my feet and said, “I haven't told him yet. I know how pathetic that is, but I just haven't yet. I told my parents, and that didn't go well. My dad ended up in the emergency room with chest pains, and my mother told me I was lucky to get a man like Edward, that I shouldn't blow the chance.” I blotted my eyes and then said, “And then I destroyed my play because my agent thought it was awful, and I couldn't ever get it to be what I thought I wanted it to be, only to find out my agent really liked the play, but her sensibilities were temporarily rendered useless due to her sudden decision to stop smoking.” I finally looked at Cinco. He seemed to feel every part of my pain.
“Leah, I'm so sorry,” he said.
I leaned forward, putting my hands on his desk, forgetting the tears running down my face. “The thing is, Cinco, the reason that I'm here is because . . . I want to know . . . if you have feelings for me.” I couldn't believe those words had come out so easily.
He didn't answer immediately, so I quickly filled the silence. “Because, I think I've got some feelings for you. I know it sounds crazy. Really, we hardly know each other. But there's just something there. I can't describe it, but I feel it, you know? And I'm about to throw my whole life away. I've pretty much thrown most of it away already, and now there's this final piece that's just hanging there, suspended, waiting for me to either yank it down or put it back in its former place. But I just can't . . . I can't stop thinking about you. You're nothing I ever imagined in a man that I would want in my life, and none of this is making any sense, I know, but something tells me this is right and . . .” I paused to take a breath, but I realized I didn't have anything else to say. I'd pretty much just spilled every inch of gut I had.
Cinco was looking at his hands. I slumped back into the chair. He did not have the look of a man who had the same feelings. He stood suddenly and walked to my side of the desk. He stayed a good three feet away from me as he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Leah, you still haven't told Edward you don't want to marry him, right?”
I nodded.
“And what I'm hearing is that you're wondering if we've got a chance. You want to know that before you break it off with Edward.”
I looked down. Maybe that was what I was saying. It just sounded so harsh summed up like that. There was an awkward silence, and I wanted to crawl into a hole. This wasn't how I imagined the conversation going. I thought Cinco would tell me he had feelings for me, but why was I surprised? Nothing in the last twenty-four hours had gone the way I'd planned it. My life was officially spiraling out of control, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was the first time I'd felt so totally . . . helpless.
“You know what I've been reading lately?” he asked.
I looked at the Bible on his desk. “Your Bible.”
“Yeah, but what in my Bible?”
“It's a big book. I have no idea.”
“I've been reading about the prodigal son.”
I didn't want to listen to this. I didn't need a sermon, and I didn't need to be compared to the prodigal son. I'd spent my whole life doing all the right things. Slipping up doesn't assign one to prodigal status.
“I've read the story many times,” Cinco continued, “but something stuck out to me this time. It was the other brother.”
“What about him?” I asked, nearly sneering. I couldn't recall much about him except that he was unhappy about a fatted calf.
“Well, his whole life he'd done everything right. His brother was the mischievous one, always doing the wrong thing, always demanding things he didn't deserve. One thing that really stuck out to me this time was that the good brother seemed to be the one missing out on so much in life.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, it seems to me that his entire life he'd worked hard to make sure there were no mistakes, no falling from grace, no unneeded conflict in his life. But because of that, he was never able to understand or feel what his brother understood and felt.”
I tore my gaze off the carpet and looked at Cinco.
What was he trying to say?
“The brother that made the most mistakes felt the deeper love. He understood what it meant to be forgiven. He understood and experienced mercy. He was the reason grace was created.”
“He was also a pain in everyone's behind.”
Cinco smiled. “Yeah. But the conflict he created by his own poor choices led to an understanding of his father's love that his brother could never get. The father's love was the same, no different from one brother to the other. But it's just that the prodigal brother, he needed the love more. He'd lived with pigsâhe understood how low life could get. The other brother was pretty self-sustaining. All his t's were crossed, and all his i's were dotted. He didn't need anyone, because he always had himself. And he was the most reliable thing he had.”
“I'm not sure what you're getting at, Cinco. I just confessed feelings for you, and you're talking about pig slop.” The humiliation of our public face-off in class last night resurfaced.
“I'm saying that you're looking at all your life falling apart and feeling like you're failing. But maybe you're succeeding at something else. Maybe for once in your life you're having to depend on someone other than yourself.”
“So I'm the unprodigal daughter. That's what you're saying?”
“It's not a bad thing. It just has different challenges. It's a different experience.”
My eyes teared up again. “I've always taken a lot of pride in being the good daughter.”
“I know. And there's nothing wrong with that. You've been a source of pride for your parents, I'm sure.” He moved a little closer to me and lowered his voice, talking so softly I had to strain to hear what he was saying. “I'm not going to tell you how I feel about you.”
“Why?”
“Because you've got to do what you need to with Edward for your own reasons. Not because of me. You've got to decide if Edward is right or wrong for you, regardless of what else does or doesn't wait on the horizon for you.”
“So no safety net.”
“No safety net.” He touched my arm. “But maybe this time, you'll feel what it's like to fall toward your doom, only to be caught by arms of love.” He patted his Bible.
Anger surged in me again. “My whole life I've been everybody's doormat, I guess you could say. I've never stood up for myself. But I haven't been completely weak, have I? Because I've taken great pride in the fact that all my ducks are in a row.”
“So kick your ducks out of line and stop being a doormat.”
Alrighty then. I stood and started for the door, but before I left, Cinco said, “Leah, you have great worth in your Father's eyes. And whether all your ducks are in a row or whether you're rolling in pig slop, you're worthy, and you always will be.”