Page 31 of Unspoken Tides

“Is he really busy with the film shoot?” Stella asked.

Hilary raised her shoulders.

“He must be busy,” Stella repeated. “Or maybe something happened?”

Hilary cleared her throat. She’d hardly been able to think about this. It seemed easier to bring it out into the open with Stella at her side.

“I called a friend who’s also working on the film,” Hilary said. “She said they’ve been off this week because San Francisco is too foggy to film.”

Stella winced and draped her hand over her mouth. She was speechless.

“I stopped calling him last week,” Hilary said sheepishly. “It was too embarrassing, knowing that the phone in his hotel room was ringing and ringing without an answer. I imagined whoever was next door in the hotel got annoyed.”

“Has he ever done something like this?” Stella asked.

Hilary shook her head. “We’ve always been in contact. Sometimes I spent time in Nantucket, and he was in Los Angeles, or he was working on one film while I worked elsewhere on another. But we always talked on the phone at least a few times a week. Despite the charges or the time constraints.”

Even as she said this, Hilary felt as though she spoke about a very distant past—one that seemed impossible, given the current circumstances. It was like she talked about when people went around by horse and buggy. When people thought the Earth was flat.

Stella lay back on the floor of the sailboat. They remained quiet, listening to the creak of the boat as the water surged up and down beneath them. Hilary tried to imagine where Rodrick was right now and what he was up to. But all she could see was his face during the days after her mother’s death when he’d begged her to open the door of the guest room and let him in.

That night, after Hilary tied up the boat, Hilary and Stella sat in Hilary’s car for a few minutes, listening to the radio. Stella had been quiet and sensitive to Hilary’s anxious thoughts. There was nothing to say to take this pain away.

“I can’t help but think he was right,” Hilary said suddenly, surprising herself.

Stella raised her left eyebrow, waiting.

“That night, he convinced me to stay home rather than go see my mother,” Hilary sputtered. “He told me I had to stop running to her. I had to unlatch myself from our poisonous relationship. For all these months after her death, I’ve hated him for that. I’ve blamed him for not letting me go. But honestly? He knew my mother’s and my relationship far better than anyone else. He saw the poison up close. And he was so tired of watching me destroy myself.” Hilary gasped for breath. Her chest heaved.

Stella reached out to take Hilary’s hand.

“I still wish I would have gone,” Hilary said quietly. “I still wish I would have been there to save her. But the reality is, she was a sinking ship, and she was trying to take me down with her.”

Hilary blinked until tears ran down her cheeks. The world was blurry Technicolor.

“Now, I’m terrified that I’ve pushed away the only person who wanted to save me from her,” Hilary said. “Rodrick loved me. He always loved me. He always wanted the best for me.” She let out a sob and then found herself weeping loudly, like a child. Stella wrapped her arms around her as best as she could, which was awkward from the passenger side of the vehicle, and pressed her nose into Hilary’s arm.

They sat like that for what felt like ages until Hilary cried herself out.

As Hilary came to after sobbing, she couldn’t figure out where she was. Who was this strange blond woman? Why wasn’t she in California? Where was the life she’d built?

“Listen to me,” Stella said very quietly. “You didn’t push Rodrick away. You didn’t cause this. He should be answering his phone. He should be here for you. You just lost your mother for crying out loud. This is one of the single-biggest horrors of your life, and you’re supposed to do it alone?”

Hilary sputtered. “He has a job. A film.”

“There is no film in the world more important than your wife,” Stella said. “He should be here.”

There was a tremendous amount of wisdom behind Stella’s words. But Hilary was having trouble making sense of them. She’d been born and raised in the film industry. Films were always more important than life. Weren’t they?

It wasn’t so very long after that that Stella appeared at Hilary’s gate. Her face was the color of paper. When Hilary opened the door, Stella hugged her for so long that she knew something was wrong. She took Hilary’s hand and led her out onto the veranda, then wrung her hands and said, “We’d better have a glass of wine.”

Hilary was terrified. She returned to the kitchen, Stella following her around as though she were Jasper, and filled two glasses, then ordered Stella, “Come on. You have to tell me. I’m going crazy.”

Stella unzipped her backpack slowly and placed a magazine on the table. It was People. The cover showed photographs of Britney Spears, Ben Affleck, Jennifer Lopez, and Shakira. Hilary raised her shoulders. There was no sign of Isabella Helin. The media circus had gone on without her.

Stella flicked through the magazine to find an article called “Shakespeare Retelling Wrap Party: Who’s Who?” Hilary’s heart sank into her stomach. It couldn’t be. Oh, but it was. There beneath the heading was a photograph of three actors from the film, two actresses, and Rodrick, the director. Rodrick had his arm slung around one of the actress’s shoulders, and he was pressing his lips against her ear. She was smiling so beautifully, with such youth and vitality. It looked like she only drank green juices and did yoga during her free time.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” Stella sputtered. “I thought maybe they were just friends at work. Maybe they just got a little too close. But then, I saw this.” Stella flipped forward in the magazine to the style section, where the same actress was photographed at an intersection in Manhattan. She wore a pair of short shorts and a baseball hat, and she held hands with a man ten years older than her. It was Rodrick.

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