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Thank You for Listening(118)

Author:Julia Whelan

“That’s not necessary, you don’t have to . . .” but he went quiet and his breath hitched. After a moment, he broke through. “Thank you. Here’s your grandmother.”

Sewanee heard him tell Blah her granddaughter was on the phone. Then she heard Blah tell him she didn’t have a granddaughter. Then Henry said, “Swan, Mom, Sewanee.”

And Blah said, “Who?”

And Henry tried once more. “Dollface?”

She was about to tell her dad to forget it. She would call Blah another time. But before she could, a sweetly lyrical voice on the other end of the line said, “Dollface! How’s my favorite girl?”

By the end of the call, Sewanee felt–it astounded her–content. She leaned her head back, closed her eye, and took a restorative breath. As she basked in the new state of things, her phone rang.

“What!” she shouted to the world, but it wasn’t listening. She looked at the number. Of course. She grudgingly picked it up. “Hello?”

“Manse here. How is she?”

“Resting.”

“Excellent! So listen, I’ve been trying to get an update from the doctor but that’s been a nonstarter. And her phone keeps going to voicemail.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s taking calls, Manse.”

“Totally, totally. But production’s getting antsy. Any ballpark on when she’ll be able to get back to Georgia, sweetie?”

Sewanee took a moment before responding. She thought about herself. About her passion for acting. About how it had always been challenged by the realities of the business. About the vagaries and rejections and frustrations. About how most of her prodigious talent went not to the actual work, but to acting as if she liked people like Manse. About what Adaku had said: how lucky Sewanee was.

“Sweetie, you there?”

She’d wanted to keep the anger out of her voice but decided now that, actually, she didn’t. Her voice, after all, was her superpower. “First, it’s Sewanee, not sweetie. I know, easy mistake. Second, do you know why this happened?”

There was a small beat. “Because she’s a gladiator! She’s a–”

“You. You and the clown car of assholes around her who pretend to care. She’ll call you when–”

“Hey, easy, k? Just because Adaku–”

“Don’t interrupt me or I’ll hang up. She’ll call you when she’s ready. Meanwhile, if production is antsy, so be it. It’s a movie. It doesn’t matter. Adaku matters. And if you’re antsy, I suggest you take some time to reflect on how your actions contributed to this situation. For instance: You keep pronouncing her name AH-duh-koo. It’s ah-DAH-koo. You’re her manager, all these other people take their cues from you, and if you can’t even–”

“Whoa, don’t spin this like I don’t care, you don’t know me–”

“Manse, you interrupted. Bye.”

She hung up. And felt like a million dollars before taxes and commissions. She stood, stretched, and decided she’d get herself a milk shake, too.

SEWANEE WALKED THROUGH her front door around midnight, after having been kicked out at the end of visiting hours, stopping by Seasons to retrieve her abandoned car, and attempting to sneak into Mark’s to appropriate some snacks for the next morning only to have the man himself bar her exit until she told him absolutely everything.

She turned on the light and was greeted by the shattered Tea-For-One service still scattered across the kitchen counter and floor.

Ah, yes.

She swept up all the pieces, then took a shower and was falling into bed when her phone rang. Her exhaustion took a backseat to her happiness at the name that appeared on her screen.

“Look at me picking up when Brock McNight calls.”

She heard his husky chuckle. “How far we’ve come.”

“Good . . . morning?” She was beyond the ability to do time zone math.

“It is. Good evening to you?” He sounded equally unsure.

“It’s dark, so maybe? I exist outside of time now. I’ve transcended . . . the . . . thing.”

He laughed. “How’s it going there?”

She caught him up briefly, promised to tell him more tomorrow, and sighed. “I’m so sorry we didn’t get to . . . you know.”

“That’ll teach you to play games, Sandy.”

“Lesson learned. That is not how I wanted our trip to end.”

“Well, if you want to you know–and here I thought you didn’t like euphemisms–I’m currently looking at flights to L.A. in a couple weeks’ time.”