ERICA AND JENNY ARE HEADING toward Sheep Meadow, Manhattan’s backyard. The park is full of New Yorkers enjoying the balmy spring day, playing and biking and picnicking, but none of it registers with Erica; her focus is on Jenny, and her own anxiety. Erica has no makeup on and is wearing sunglasses and a cap, and thankfully no one pays any attention to her.
“So . . . it’s been a fun weekend with Beth?”
Jenny nods.
“Do you two hang out together a lot back home?”
“Yes. She’s super popular. She’s almost famous. Like you.”
“Is she popular with boys?”
“Of course.”
“Does she date?”
“Why are you asking me all these questions about Beth, Mom? And why are we out on this walk? What’s up?”
Erica takes a deep breath and leaps in. “I found a box of condoms in your bedroom.”
Jenny stops and makes a face. “What were you doing in my bedroom?”
“You’re my daughter. It’s my apartment.” Grrrrr—she knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as the words are out of her mouth.
“I thought it was my apartment too.”
“Of course it is, honey.”
“Yeah, right. I don’t feel at home there anyway.”
“You don’t?”
“No. It’s yours and Greg’s house. I live with Dad and Linda.”
Erica suddenly feels like she’s about half Jenny’s age, a confused kid who doesn’t understand the big world and just wants to sit on the floor and cry and cry.
“But, honey, you asked to live with them, you chose it. It wasn’t what I wanted.”
“You didn’t fight it.”
“I didn’t fight it because I thought it was what you wanted.”
“It is what I wanted, but I also wanted you to fight it.”
They stand there a foot apart, but Erica feels like a chasm has opened between them.
Reach across it, Erica, reach for your baby.
“I guess I read that whole situation wrong. I’m sorry if I’ve failed you. I was trying to do what was best for you. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. And you know it.”
“I know it until a bomb goes off somewhere and you get on a plane.”
“It’s what I do for a living. It’s always been my dream. Can you understand that?”
Jenny is silent.
“If you want me to be a mother, you can’t criticize me for acting like one. When I found the condoms I panicked. There are a lot of dangers you can’t appreciate yet, and I don’t want you to make any mistakes you might regret later.”
“It creeps me out that you were snooping in my room. It’s pathetic.”
Erica takes Jenny’s shoulders and lowers her voice. “You listen to me, Jenny, I’m your mother. You show me some respect. I’ve worked like a dog to get where I am, and to provide you, young lady, with a lot of advantages.” Jenny rolls her eyes and Erica has an urge to slap her. “What were those condoms doing in Beth’s suitcase?”
“Come on, Mom, chillax.”
“I don’t want to chillax. I want to know what’s going on here.”
Jenny is quiet for a moment and then says, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“The condoms are not for sex,” Jenny says slowly, in the tone a teacher might use to reach a not-wildly-bright student. “They’re for the condom challenge.”
“The what?”
“The condom challenge. It’s a big thing with YouTubers right now. You fill a condom with water, then drop it on someone and it wraps around their head and they look like they’re in a fishbowl . . . Just google it, Mom.”
Erica is gobsmacked, stands there with her mouth open. She feels ancient and ridiculous and left out. Why hasn’t Jenny told her about this infantile frat-house prank? Why?
“Did you actually perform this ‘challenge’?”
Jenny smiles. “Yeah, we did.”
“This weekend? In the apartment?”
“Yeah. I think it’s really cool footage.”
“And were you the dropper or the dropee?”
“I dropped it on Beth. It worked perfectly.”
Erica tries to digest all this information. But does she really believe it? Is there more that Jenny’s not telling her? She’s about to ask when her phone rings. She decides not to answer it, but then sees who it is. “Jenny, this is Greg.”
“Go ahead and take it, Mom.”
“How’s the talk going?” Greg asks in a charged voice.
“It’s going. What’s up?”
“The secessionists down in West Texas got into a shoot-out with federal marshals. Two of them were killed, as well as two marshals. It’s very ugly.”
“Is it over?”
“No. It’s all just breaking. Both sides are armed, and the secessionists won’t talk to a mediator.”
“This is big.” And fits so perfectly with her Spotlight plans. “I think I should go down there. We’ll head back.” Erica hangs up. Suddenly the condoms don’t seem so important.
“What’s happening, Mom?” Jenny asks, alert and curious. All her snarkiness has evaporated. The two of them turn and start to make time back to the apartment.
“There’s a confrontation going on down in southwest Texas between federal marshals and a group of sovereign citizens.”
“What’s a sovereign citizen?”
“It’s someone who doesn’t recognize the authority of the federal government. They’re secessionists and want their state to leave the union.”
“And become like an independent country or something?”
“Exactly. They don’t think they should have to pay taxes. They’re very militant. Things got violent today.”
“Are people dead?”
“Greg said at least four.”
“Wow. I agree, you should probably go down there.”
Erica takes Jenny’s hand and they pick up the pace. Suddenly it feels like they’re allies and friends. “Thanks for being so understanding.”
“Beth says I can’t expect you to be a regular mom.”
“Does she?”
“She says that celebrity moms only pretend to be like real moms.”
What’s a real mom? Maybe someday Erica will find out. But not today.
Erica calls Eileen McDermott. “You’ve heard?”
“Yes, I’ve got us booked on a two o’clock flight out of LaGuardia. The car will pick you up in half an hour. We’ve got a local crew in place.”
Erica’s apartment building comes into view, and she and Jenny break into a trot. Upstairs, Greg has her suitcase open on their bed. As she starts to pack, Beth appears in the doorway, filming. Erica is about to scream at her—wouldn’t that make fun footage on TMZ?—when Greg ushers Beth out, takes her camera, and deletes the footage.
When Erica is finished packing, she, Greg, and Jenny head downstairs to wait for the car. She takes out her phone and starts to read—Eileen has already sent her background material on the Free Texas Rangers. Greg tries to draw Jenny into some small talk, but she stays focused on her mom, her face filled with pride and concern.
The car pulls up. Erica hugs Greg and then Jenny. “Good-bye, Mom. Be careful.”
Just as Erica turns toward the car, Greg’s phone rings. Erica catches the incoming name: Leslie Burke Wilson.