“I’m in awe of her. I want to be her when I grow up,” she said, and David and Michaela laughed. Marla was unique. And Melissa was touched by her saying that she was willing to share Michaela with her. She was generous to a fault. “I was so nervous about meeting her.”
“She was nervous about you too,” Michaela said. “She told me in the kitchen between courses that she thinks you’re terrific. And she doesn’t say that easily about anyone.” Melissa had been interested too in her comments about the sex offenders. Marla knew all the inside scoop and the men involved.
She stayed to watch a movie with them, after they put the dishes in the kitchen. David had the football game on mute on another TV at the same time, so he could keep track of the scores.
And they did fun things in L.A. over the weekend. They didn’t see Marla again. She was busy, but she sent Melissa an email, telling her how much she’d enjoyed meeting her, and reminding her to get back to work on the books.
All in all, it was a perfect Thanksgiving. She told Norm all about it when she got back to the hotel and called him. He’d had a nice day at his brother’s too. Melissa was sad to leave, but they were coming to visit her two days after Christmas and planning to stay a week.
Norm took a cab to the airport in Boston, and drove home with her. They didn’t stop talking all the way home, and when they got to her house, they raced upstairs and flew onto her bed.
“I’ve been pining for you for four days,” he said fervently, as he pulled off her clothes and she laughed and tugged at his. Minutes later, they were making love. He was wonderful to come home to, and she had had a lovely time with her daughter. She couldn’t think of a better Thanksgiving. Her solitude in the Berkshires was over. She was alive again, and had so much to look forward to. She had never been as thankful in her life.
Chapter 12
Hattie called Melissa the day after the Thanksgiving weekend, when she got home from work.
“How was it?” Hattie asked her.
“Fantastic. It was perfect. Marla Moore is amazing. She has more energy than anyone half her age. She’s glamorous and beautiful. I think she was as nervous as I was before we met. She was afraid I would take Michaela away from her. No one could. Marla’s a good mother in her own way. She has her own life and a busy career, but she loves her, and Michaela knows it. She said she’s happy to share her with me. I couldn’t hope for more.”
Hattie sounded distracted when she spoke. “Can I come up this weekend? I want to talk to you.” She sounded very serious, and Melissa was worried about her. She had been so down lately, since the summer and her trip to Ireland. She wasn’t sure whether seeing Saint Blaise’s had done it or talking to Fiona Eckles, but whatever it was, Hattie hadn’t recovered yet, and seemed to be getting even more depressed.
“Sure,” she responded. “Do you want to stay Saturday night?”
“I can’t. I have to help with Mass on Sunday. I’ll just come for the day.”
“That’s such a long trip for you. I hope it doesn’t snow.”
“Me too.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m okay. See you Saturday.” She hung up before Melissa could question her further. Melissa had a busy week herself after that. Norm stayed with her every night, but he stayed away on Saturday, so she could spend the day with her sister. Hattie arrived at eleven, which meant she must have left the city around six, since there was a light snow on the road. She looked somber when Melissa opened the door for her, and followed her into the kitchen.
“They didn’t have cinnamon buns. I got you chocolate croissants.” Hattie smiled at her, but Melissa could see that something was wrong. “What’s up? You look like you flunked math.” They both smiled. It brought back memories of their youth.
Hattie sighed and sat back in a kitchen chair and looked at her sister. “I flunked vocation. There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for years. I should have told you a long time ago.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a wonderful nun.”
“No, I’m not. I never had a vocation. You were right. I ran away. I wanted to run as far away as I could. The convent seemed like the perfect place to do it. I didn’t have some kind of religious vision or inspiration. I was just scared. So I ran away and hid, just like you said. I was a coward. I still am.
“Do you remember the producer who asked me to go to Hollywood for the screen test? He was offering me a part in a big movie. A good part. I was so excited. I never asked any questions. I flew out there on the ticket he sent me and showed up for the test. Sam Steinberg. He flew out to L.A. to be at the test himself. He told me to meet him in his office. So I did, like the idiot I was then.”
“You weren’t an idiot,” Melissa corrected her. She was listening closely, frowning. “You were a kid.”
“A very dumb kid. I walked into his office on a Saturday morning. There was no one else there. He said he was going to give me the test himself, because I was so talented. I could see a huge film career starting, and an Oscar in my future. He locked the door with a button under his desk. He took his clothes off then, and tore off mine. He ripped them right off my back, slapped me around, threw me on the couch in his office, and raped me. After that, he laid me on his desk, and punched me every time I tried to move, and raped me again. He hit me, kicked me, punched me, masturbated on me, and raped me all day. He kept me there till six o’clock. I could hardly walk by the time he let me go. There was no one in the building except us. He threw me a shirt and some shorts while I crawled across the floor. I couldn’t even stand up, while he put on his shirt and tie, and his suit. He stood in the doorway and said, ‘Sorry, kid, you flunked the test. You’re too young for the part. Better luck next time.’
“He laughed then and walked out. I don’t even know how I got out of there. I was too ashamed to go to a hospital. He broke some ribs. I was black and blue all over, and I could hardly sit down for a week. Thank God, I didn’t get pregnant. His name was on the list of sex offenders last week. Seventeen women have accused him of rape and assault and battery, and described everything he did to me. He’s been doing it to young hopeful actresses for years. The Sam Steinberg Screen Test. It’s common knowledge in Hollywood apparently.”
Melissa felt sick as she listened, afraid that there was more. “I checked in to a cheap motel and stayed there until I could walk normally again and cover the bruises with makeup. When I got home, I did the only thing I could think of. I went straight to the convent, and told them I felt I had a vocation. I didn’t have a vocation, but I never wanted to see another man again, or have one touch me. I met a girl on the plane, going back to New York, who was crying, and said she had been raped twice in L.A., and once in New York when she was trying out for an Off-Broadway show. That did it. I knew I didn’t want to be an actress anymore. He beat it out of me. All I wanted to be was protected and safe from guys like him. If that’s what acting was about, I didn’t want it.” Hattie was crying by then, and so was Melissa.