Putting the ingredients up front. Here’s how I planned to do it.
I called Julie, ready to take her up on her generous offer. There were many reasons to tell her yes after all. A new show would provide financial security, a career, a way to help take care of Sammy, to take care of my own kid, a way out of Montauk. A shot at redemption. No lies this time. And hadn’t a version of this very thing been the goal?
Still, when I heard her voice on the phone, the word yes wouldn’t come out of my mouth.
“So, are we going to do something great together?” she said.
“Can I ask you something first? Do you think there’s a way to live in the public eye and be authentic? You work with all sorts of people. How do people do it?”
“Well, you don’t lie about who you are. For starters.”
I laughed. “I know, but even then . . . it seems tricky.”
“Oh, jeez. I guess they don’t take the whole thing so seriously,” she said. “Or maybe they take it very seriously. I don’t know. I think you’re missing the point.”
“Which is?”
“I’m offering you a second chance. And this time, there will be no pretending to be anything you’re not. It will be the real you.”
That stopped me. Because she couldn’t promise that. That was the tricky part, wasn’t it? That was Ethan’s point. Danny had been able to hack me because I’d lied about who I was. But he was also able to do it because I’d put everything out there. I’d told the story about myself that I thought needed to be told. Until it had taken me so far away from myself that I couldn’t even find it anymore. The truth. My truth. However large or small, however unimportant. However click-worthy.
Maybe that was all we had to hold on to. Our truth. Our thing. The thing that made us who we were. So the entire world wasn’t suddenly for sale.
“Are you still there?” Julie said.
“I am,” I said. “But I’m going to pass.”
“No.” She was firm. “Really?”
I almost didn’t believe it myself. “Apparently.”
“Come on. Why would you do that?”
It was a fair question. “I don’t think it’s right for me.”
“Who knows what’s right for them? Some days I want to move to Mexico, other days I’m scared of Zika. Do you get what I’m saying? I mean, you don’t want to be a waitress forever.”
“I’m on trash.”
“I’m getting a headache.”
“I think I just need a private life right now.”
“Is the husband back?”
“No. I just don’t want to put myself out there. At least until I know again what I’m putting out there.”
“I’m not sure what that means. Though I hope you’ll call me when you come to your senses.”
Maybe I would. But I didn’t think so. “Thank you for thinking it was a good idea.”
“I’m thinking a little less so now,” she said.