The only time I hear her voice is when it’s coming through in sobs.
“The thing you want more than all else is the thing you will tirelessly work to prevent yourself from getting,” I say. “It’s the very fact of wanting it so much that does it. Wanting something like that is an addiction. The only thing that you ever really feed is that want. It’s all you know how to do. I should know,” I tell her, “I’m the same way. It comes out a lot differently with me than it does, obviously, with you, but it’s that same kind of want. I’ve had that want for well over a decade now,” I tell her, “but would you like to know what I’ve found in all that time?”
I’m waiting for an answer, but one doesn’t come.
“I’ve found,” I continue, “that that want is just a lie. It’s impossible, and you’re the one that made it impossible. Before that want existed, you might have had a shot at some kind of normal life, but it’s there now and it’s not going away. The world you live in isn’t the world that everyone else lives in because you’ve separated yourself from everything and everyone that doesn’t fit into your narrative. It doesn’t work,” I tell her. “Your best bet is just to stop trying, and realize that life just fucking sucks.”
One last time, I wait for an answer. The woman, assumedly Rita, is still crying, but it’s more controlled now.
“If you want to make a real difference in someone’s life, make a real impact that’s going to show you just how much power you’ve got?” I ask. “Leave me, my friends, and my family alone,” I tell her. “You will have absolutely changed my life.”
For once, the line is silent, but I don’t hang up. It’s just kind of nice having someone to talk to.
Chapter Seventeen
The Talk Show
Emma
It had to happen at some point, but I was hoping to actually be well on the other side of this whole thing before it did.
I’m standing in the green room of Ida!, the upstart, feel-good talk show that’s supposed to replace Oprah, even though we all know that that’s never going to happen.
Nobody replaces Oprah.
I’m on in a few minutes, and they’ve devoted the whole show to talking about the second worst period of my life.
This should be something really special.
There’s a TV in here, tuned to the station Ida! gets broadcast on, and the promo comes on the screen, “Today, on Ida…”
The music is very somber, even a little tense at times.
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself, “I’m the fucking Hollywood sob story.”
The promo continues, “…after a long road to fame and fortune, Emma Roxy…” and I just tune out.
This feels like a bad sitcom where the writers decide they’re going to show their range and do a sad episode, only it almost never works out. They did a couple of those episodes on Fresh Prince that weren’t bad, but that’s really neither here nor there.
“Emma?” a man in a very busy sweater says, speaking as if he’s interrupting a funeral.
“Yeah?” I respond, facing him.
“We’re about ready for you. I’ll escort you to where you’re just on stage and I’ll cue you when it’s time to go out. Did you have a chance to walk over the set and kind of get an idea where you’re going?”
“Yeah,” I lie. I didn’t need a tour of the set. It’s actually a guilty pleasure of mine.
“Great,” he says. “If you’ll just follow me…”
We walk down the hallways and everyone I pass gives me the kind of smile people give when you’re a kid and your dog just died. It’s that smile that’s supposed to communicate, “I know you’re going through a rough time, kiddo,” but always comes across more like, “When can I get out of here? This whole thing is really bumming me out.”
Smiles are rather expressive, you know.
We get to the side of the stage, just out of view of the cameras and the audience, and the man in the sweater takes my hand in both of his and says, “Because we’re taping this for later, commercial breaks are going to be pretty short, usually just a couple of minutes for Ida to go over her notes, that sort of thing. If you need to take a break, let Ida know and they’ll stop filming until you’ve had a chance to collect yourself. I’m going to be right here with you while you’re waiting, I’ll be standing right here while you’re on and I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?”
They really know how to do the sympathy thing around here, don’t they?
A couple of minutes go by and I’m waiting. I was kind of hoping to meet Ida Falcone before I went out there, but it’s not my set.