“Amelia, we already went through this—on our hike, remember?” Stephanie says, blowing dust off her keyboard. “You don’t have anything else to apologize for.”
I’m sitting in her office, bizarrely nervous considering I’m sitting in front of someone who I know loves me unconditionally. It’s my first time in the building since the day I fled Absolutely Fabulous, and I know that that’s where I’m going next.
“Please, just listen,” I say. And then I tell her that although I already apologized to her for being selfish, I haven’t changed my behavior at all—I’m still always calling her in the midst of a crisis and then abandoning her as soon as it’s over. I finish by saying, “I haven’t been treating you the way I want to be treated, and I want to start doing that now.”
Stephanie looks completely shocked. “Amelia, I don’t know what to say,” she says after a few seconds of silence.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I say. “Unless there’s something I can do to make up for what I’ve done.”
She shakes her head. “Can I hug you now?”
I nod and we both stand up and embrace. As we hug, I tell her I love her and notice that she’s crying. “You’re foul,” she says and we both laugh.
Next, I go upstairs, walk straight into Robert’s assistant’s office and ask if it’s possible for me to speak to him. His assistant, Celine, looks terrified, like I may be on the verge of pulling out an Uzi, but Rachel had told me that I wasn’t allowed to react to anyone’s behavior during this apology tour. I was just supposed to be loving and take whatever was dished out.
“Um, hang on,” she says, scooting quickly out of her office and just as speedily into Robert’s. As I stand there, Brian walks by, his head down as he reads a fax.
“Brian,” I say, and he looks up. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Not looking terribly surprised, Brian nods just as Robert opens his door, so we walk in and take the exact same seats we had the day I was fired. I waste no time—launching directly into how sorry I am for being such a self-absorbed, entitled prima donna. I apologize for acting inappropriately with the people I interviewed, for not respecting the people above me and the rules, for having a sense of entitlement borne purely out of insecurity, and finally for doing coke at work. I end by saying that I thought I deserved to be fired and then something entirely unplanned escapes from my mouth. “I’m actually really grateful it happened,” I say, “because it helped me get to where I am now.”
“Well, I never…” Robert says, and then lapses into the muteness that seems to be his trademark. But for the first time since we met, he’s actually looking at me with kindness.
Brian glances from Robert to me and then breaks into a smile. “I’m proud of you,” he says.
The rest of my apologies go as well as can be expected. I call Chris, ask if we can meet for coffee and, at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Beverly, explain that I took out my own shame about my wild behavior on him and couldn’t ever be direct with him about it. I also apologize for mocking him and Mitch in my column. He nods, informs me coldly that he still thinks I’m a bitch, and all I can do is say, “You may be right.” Rachel had advised me to use those words if I ever felt like I was about to react negatively to someone while I was apologizing.
I show up at Chad Milan’s office and his assistant at first tells me he doesn’t have time to see me. Just as I’m getting up, though, Chad wanders out to the hall and says he wants to hear what I have to say just to satisfy his curiosity. I end up telling him—here in the halls of CAA, with about a trillion suits wandering by every millisecond—about my addiction and recovery. Rachel had said that I didn’t need to go and explain that I was an alcoholic to every last person I spoke to—that, in fact, it could be considered a cop-out because I might try to use that as an excuse for my behavior—but for some reason, this is how I explain it to Chad. I add that this in no way makes me feel like I’m entitled to some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card but I just wanted him to know that I think he’s a nice guy and deserved to be treated better. He doesn’t exactly throw his arms around me, but he doesn’t have me escorted out of the building, either.
I drive over to Holly’s office at Imagine but a serious-looking, bespectacled brunette is sitting where Karen used to. I ask if Holly’s available and the girl—who introduces herself as Samantha and explains that she’s a temp—says that Holly’s in meetings at Universal all day. So I sit down in the waiting room and write Holly a note, apologizing for bailing out on the job and for not giving it the energy it deserved, and adding that she should call me if she wants to discuss the matter further. I put the note in an envelope, along with her keys, that I leave with the temp.
Rachel had made it clear to me that I should make every effort to apologize in person but if there were people I couldn’t get to or felt too uncomfortable to see, it would be okay to e-mail them or write a letter. And since Justin’s voicemail is full, I send him an e-mail saying that I’m sorry for acting like his relapse was some personal slight against me, only calling him when I needed him, and essentially abandoning him the minute he told me he wasn’t sober. I also ask him to call me whenever he wants to because I’d like to say these things to him in person.
I call Rachel to tell her about the apologies I’ve made and she says I’m off to a great start. I know that I have far bigger and more terrifying apologies to make—to, say, Mom and Dad—but that I don’t have to do them now. Rachel says I’ll know when I’m ready.
As Rachel and I talk, the other line keeps ringing and I notice Nadine’s 212 number on my caller ID. She’s been trying to schedule this trip to New York for me to be on the View and I can only put her off for so long. So, even though I’m not remotely sure I can keep doing the column, I say good-bye to Rachel, then click over and tell Nadine I’m sorry I haven’t called her back but that I can go to New York whenever she wants me to.
“Fantastic, sweetie!” she trills. “They’d love to have you on tomorrow so how about the red-eye tonight?”
Looking around the apartment, I see that it’s in complete disarray, and realize that it doesn’t matter. I’m tidying up what’s inside, not what’s on the outside, I think as Nadine calls me back and tells me that she’s made my reservation and I have a few hours before the car will come get me and take me to the airport.
After packing, I sit down to make my final apology for the time being—to Adam. Like with the others, I want to make it simple, direct, and absolutely devoid of motive, so I write him an e-mail saying I’m sorry for criticizing his date when I saw him and for generally taking out my frustration on him because he wasn’t doing what I wanted him to do. I add that I appreciate his questioning me over why I’d do something for a living that I didn’t believe in because it was helping me to look at my life and my actions in a new way. As I send the e-mail—Rachel and I had decided that it was okay for me not to make this apology in person because, face to face, I might try to manipulate and cajole him into asking me out—I realize that I don’t actually want anything from Adam anymore. My feelings for him are still there, but if he doesn’t want me, I now see, there’s really no point in my pining for him. It’s clearly not meant to be, and one day I may come to understand why. The feeling that he has to be my boyfriend is simply gone, just like that. Then I realize something even more shocking: my desire to use cocaine and drink is also gone. I’ve heard people in meetings talk about how their urge to drink or do drugs had suddenly been removed and I’d always gazed at them somewhat skeptically, but I guess I’m now living proof that it can happen. As I sit here thinking about how serene I feel, a wonderful idea occurs to me, so I make a call asking someone to meet me in New York.
Who have I become? I wonder as I walk down my driveway to the waiting Town Car. As I get inside, I realize I don’t really have the answer to that yet.