Christopher Beha - Arts & Entertainments - A Novel

Eddie had never expressed doubts about being a father, just about how they would afford it. Having these kids was the reason he’d done what he did, and Susan knew it. She was telling a story about him, making him fit the idea the audience already had. Whose story was it? Had she been told to follow this line, or was it her own idea? He found it all hard to watch.

“Speaking of this process,” Sandra said, “I understand you might have a bit of news to share this morning. There have been some rumors about a reality show. What can you tell us?”

“I just finalized a deal yesterday with Moody Productions. We’ve already got several networks interested, but I can’t say more than that.”

“That’s very exciting news. Can you tell us what viewers can expect from the show?”

“It’s just going to be me,” Susan said. “My work at the gallery. My life preparing to be a single mom. There’s been a lot of stuff out there the past few days. Some of it is true, some of it isn’t. I just want to show people what I’m actually like.”

“Before we finish up,” Sandra said. “Let me say how brave I think you are.”

“Thank you for that. And thanks so much for having me on the show.”

“There you have it. If you’re as fascinated by Susan Hartley’s story as I am, I know you’re going to be eagerly awaiting this show. I hope you’ll come on again when there’s more news about that. We’ll be right back after this break with a report from Afghanistan.”

Eddie turned off the TV and called Talent Management. When they told him Alex wasn’t in, Eddie called his cell phone.

“I just watched This Morning Live, ” he said.

“Wasn’t she great? I’m in the greenroom now, she’ll be out in a second.”

“You’re with her?”

“Of course I’m with her. I set the interview up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you. I said I’d get you on This Morning Live, I’d get you a reality show with Moody, the whole deal. You said you weren’t interested.”

“That’s because I thought Susan wasn’t interested.”

“She’s interested now. It’s going to be a great show. Moody says we may get Bliss’s old spot on 2True. And I got Susan some serious money. In case you weren’t aware, kids aren’t cheap.”

Of course Eddie understood the appeal of making some money. Susan didn’t know about the remaining cash from Morgan, so their situation seemed even more desperate to her than it was. Still, she’d made the choice so quickly, as if acting on an impulse Eddie had never seen in her before.

“If she’s on board,” he told Alex, “then I’m on board.”

“I’d like to get you involved, Eddie. But Moody wants Susan. A single mother with triplets is a great story. You’re sort of a complication at this point.”

“A complication? No one would even have heard of Susan if I hadn’t sold that tape.”

“It doesn’t matter how they heard of her. The point is, people like her. They’re interested. Pretty soon the tape is going to be old news, but if she plays it right, Susan’s going to stick.”

“You’re just going to cut me out of the story?”

“I offered you these opportunities, Eddie. You said you can’t do this, you can’t do that. I called Susan, and she was ready to go. So we’re going. Give it some time, and I’m sure they’ll find a way to work you into the story. Listen, here she is now. I’ve got to go.”

“Maybe I could talk with her?”

But Alex had already hung up. Eddie called Susan’s cell phone and left a voice mail, his tenth in the past three days. He doubted that she was listening to them.

“It’s Eddie,” he said. “I saw you on TV. You looked really great. I just want you to know you don’t have to do this reality thing if it makes you uncomfortable. I’ll find a way to get us some money, something that keeps you and the babies out of the spotlight. I think we could figure all this stuff out, just the two of us, if we had a chance to talk. Give me a call when you can. I love you.”

Eddie knew it was useless. Who would turn down what Susan had been offered? Besides, she’d hardly looked uncomfortable. In fact, she’d looked made for the part. This producer knew exactly what he was doing. Alex hadn’t been exaggerating when he called Brian Moody the most successful reality-show producer in Hollywood, as Eddie learned from a quick search on his laptop. Moody’s imperiled Justine Bliss show was only one of more than a dozen currently on the air. One Web site called him “the genius behind Baby Pageant and Dog Swap.” He seemed to be taken in the press as something more than a simple producer. A strange kind of legend had built up around him. His Wikipedia page reported that he was a former priest who’d left a contemplative order to work in television. Other, less reliable sites made more elaborate, even baroque claims about his mystical inclinations.

The man made TV shows, Eddie thought. That was all. Though if it was true that he had some religious background, that might explain how he’d convinced Susan to sign on. He would have spoken a language that she understood. Eddie preferred this idea to the alternative, which was that he didn’t know his wife as well as he thought he did. Long ago, Eddie had asked Susan if she’d ever dreamed of being a famous artist herself. It seemed a natural question. He hadn’t set out to teach acting, he’d come to it by way of trying to do the thing itself. He imagined that curators and gallerists and art critics similarly began as failed artists.

He remembered the conversation now. It had come on their very first date, the second time they’d met. They’d been introduced during Eddie’s first year back at St. Albert’s, at a dinner party held by Annie, who was still teaching then. Eddie had noticed Annie and another female teacher whispering and laughing when he was introduced on the first day of school that year. After years of disastrous auditions, being held to a standard that didn’t apply to the rest of the world, he’d become handsome again.

When Annie invited him over early that fall, he assumed she was interested in him, but the man who answered the door that night was obviously Annie’s boyfriend. There were about ten people at the party. Apart from Eddie they all seemed to know each other. The whole thing puzzled him until dinner, when he found himself seated next to Susan. She was very pretty, Eddie thought. Not Martha Martin pretty, but no one was, except for Martha herself. Susan had light brown hair that she wore pinned up and a full, freckled face. She had high, round cheeks and a wide mouth that was quick to form into a smile. But Eddie didn’t think of her physical appearance when he remembered that evening. He didn’t really picture a person at all so much as a hazy, warmth-conferring glow. The overwhelming impression she gave was that of kindness, generosity of spirit. Not until he recognized this did he realize how conditioned he’d become to being regarded with skepticism, measured and found wanting for the purposes for which he was presenting himself. He’d come to anticipate disappointing people.

“Annie tells me you’re an actor,” she said while serving herself from a large bowl of pasta. Before passing the bowl along, she filled Eddie’s plate without asking him. “What kind of stuff do you do?”

“Mostly theater.”

“It must be exciting.”

He’d become used to exaggerating his few accomplishments in such situations, or even lying outright, which he could do convincingly, since he’d seen a successful career up close and knew all the relevant details. But the combination of that warmth and the sense that there was nothing much at stake led him to say, “I’m not having a great time with it right now, which is why I’ve taken this teaching job.”