Back in the car, Jen’s thoughts remained on Doug’s father. “Family dynamics can be tricky,” she said, “not so much black-and-white as shades of gray.
“Were there ‘shades of gray’ in your house?” he challenged.
Her thoughts flew backward. She’d been lucky to have parents who made a fuss about a kindergarten picture, cheered at a baseball game or for a test score—
always encouraging, always praising. And sometimes making suggestions.
“Maybe we were too young…” she began.
“You were not too young,” countered Doug. “Neither was Lisa. Teenage years could wreak havoc in a family.”
Jen paused, thinking back carefully. “I wreaked havoc, as you say, only after they were gone. I gave Lisa and Mike a few big headaches.”
“Understandable.”
“Ancient history.” She patted his thigh. “I’m glad you were able to turn down your dad’s offer. I suspect he’s not as bad as he seems.”
“Maybe, maybe not. That was guilt talking. He was trying to make Mom happy.
I-I can’t quite process that she snuck down to the city to see the show and never told anyone. Not even me!”
“That’s what mothers do. For their children, anything. As for Eddie, well he knows about her trip now.”
“It shook him up. Therefore, he offered his son, the playwright, money, which he thinks will calm the water.”
But Jen wasn’t sure that was the only reason. “Maybe he loves his son. Maybe he worries about you.”
“Ha!”
“One thing’s for sure,” said Jen. “He may be awkward and blustery, but he loves your mom.”
“If he’d exchange the bluster for a little bit of tenderness, sometimes, and maybe tell her out loud how he feels…she’d be better off.”
Jen shrugged. “That’s her lecture to give, and if she ever gets to a breaking point, she will.”
“Which leads to her turning point.”
“What?”
“’All the world’s a stage…’” quoted Doug. “We all play out our dramas. My parents are no different, living in their one-story ranch house in western Massachusetts. Drama lives in every house on their street, in every home in the world. Joy, despair, grief and hope…there always has to be hope…and then decisions are made. A path is chosen or a new idea brings an aha moment and changes a person inside.”
With those words, Jen glimpsed a window into Doug’s soul. “My God. That’s how you write your plays! You see these things. You capture these events, these emotions. And you can make others feel them.”
Silence was his only answer for a moment.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” he finally replied. “But I’m not only an observer. I’ve lived through the highs and lows myself. Here’s how I look at it: everyone searches for a peaceful, vanilla life, but in the end, they find that life is mint chocolate chip, and rocky road. Vanilla is an unreliable goal.”
“Oh-h-h….” Jen clutched her stomach at her aha moment. “You’re right,” she whispered. “Vanilla is the safer road. I’ve planned for it, fought for it. But then something happens, and—and…”
“You’re hijacked. Staring at new choices on a rocky road.”
Although their conversation lingered, Jen was on familiar turf the next morning
and could fall into her comfortable role. The only choices she’d be making were financial ones with her clients. She unlocked her computer and began scrolling, but stopped at the company-wide announcement of Matthew’s promotion and move to Kentucky. His last day at headquarters was the upcoming Friday.
Her heart sank for a moment, but she tried to rally. No vanilla here. She’d consider it a pistachio event—for them all. Hopefully a wonderful turning point for Matt. But what if the offer had been hers? What if she’d turned it down because she wanted the safer road? What if that safer choice ultimately destroyed her career?
She refocused on the screen. Ridiculous thoughts. If she kept it up, she’d soon be competing with Doug in the drama department.
##
Workwise, Doug shouldn’t have taken time off to go with Jen to Tanglewood.
On Monday night, he was buried in scripts. Revisions to The Sanctuary came first. Amazing how actors, by bringing the story to life, and by reacting to the writing, could clearly show him where adjustments were needed, where he could fix a phrase that may have seemed good on paper, but when spoken…not so much. He grabbed the chance to revise and make changes for the better.
He glanced at the clock. After ten. Shoot, he was late with his call. That ten o’clock connection had become a nice habit. He reached for his cell, but it rang before he could connect. Jen.
Smiling, he answered it. “Hi sweetie. I lost track of time.”
“I figured. You must be elbow-deep in breaking points and turning points and drama.”
“Hey, you really listened!”
“Oh, yeah. And another turning point is coming up. Matt’s last day is Friday.
Liz’s, too. Feel like joining the gang for our private farewell party?”
As if he’d miss it. “Maguires?”
