Dear Cary - Dyan Cannon [96]
I felt myself come briefly to life when I got a call from the director David Swift, who offered me the lead in the movie version of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. “You’re not just my first choice, you’re everyone’s,” he said. “We all agree that you own that role.”
Needless to say, I was thrilled. I told him I’d call later to confirm, after discussing it with Cary. Then I asked myself what was I confirming, and why did it have to be confirmed? I felt my heart sinking.
I knew presenting this news to Cary would be a touchy affair, and it was important to catch him in the right mood. So when he came home, I waited for him to finish his Manhattan.
I told him about the offer. He sighed wearily and said, “Dyan, you know how I feel about that. I don’t want you to work. You’re the mother of a young child.”
“Is this open for discussion?”
“No.”
“Cary, you’ve got many friends and colleagues who’ve balanced children and career very successfully.”
“What other people do doesn’t concern me in the least. Dyan, you wanted to start a family. I’m holding up my end of the bargain, and you should hold up yours.”
I began to retreat into silence, but Cary was attacking one of my few surviving hopes for the future. I couldn’t allow him to rewrite history. “My end of the bargain never included a word about me not working, Cary!”
“Does your end of the bargain include putting family harmony ahead of your own interests? Because right now things are too fragile to survive the stress of you being away on a movie set.”
“All right,” I said. I thought about it. Maybe he was right. Viewed from a certain angle, he was right. But then, viewed from a certain angle, anybody could be right about anything.
I no longer had my own view.
Another couple of weeks of life in Zombie Land went by, and the time for me to go to Portland for the surprise unveiling of my parents’ love shack arrived. My mother was still unsettled about Dad’s quirky behavior. Luckily, Mom had a bowling tournament near Portland that weekend, which made it easy to set up the surprise. And what a coincidence—Dad had “business” in Portland until the end of the week. So Dad told Mom he’d come to watch her bowl in the tournament. That by itself made Mom happy; she could at least be pleased that he could take time out of his secret life for her.
Mom had driven to Portland with two friends who were in on the conspiracy. After the tournament, they pretended to get lost and found themselves in front of a gate that had a dirt road leading up to a house. There were lights on inside. Mom was appointed to go to the front door and ask for directions. When she rang, I answered. It was good that she was healthy and strong, or I’d have worried about giving her a heart attack. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “Welcome home!”
Then my father stepped into view with open arms, laughing heartily and with a ton of emotion. Mom’s tear ducts were about to burst. “I needed a place to take my girlfriend!” he said. “You are my girlfriend, aren’t you?” Mom squeezed his cheeks with her hands and gave him a mock slap. “You sneaky thing,” she said, kissing him. “I just can’t believe my eyes.”
Dad had done a lot more than just build the place. The kitchen was already set up with her favorite plates, pots, and pans. There were new shoes and dresses in her closet. He’d put all of her favorite cosmetics in the bathroom, right down to her brand of mascara and her favorite lipstick. For my father, Mom’s happiness was his own happiness. That, I thought, was a true fairy tale marriage. And it was real.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Shrinking
“Dyan, sit down,” Cary said the next evening, his voice filled with paternal gravity. “We need to talk.” I sat down across from him on the couch. “I’m very worried