Page 4 of Nantucket Gala

His mother had said, “Give yourself a time limit. If you don’t sell a script by twenty-six or so, maybe it’s time to get out of the game.”

Henry thought that was tremendously unfair. It gave him only three years to make it—three years to make mistakes and then bow out and do something “more practical,” whatever that was.

Not that the Copperfields were keen on practicality.

But unfortunately, his father, Jackson Crawford, who worked as a broadcast journalist, was of a similar mind. “The film industry is for hacks, son,” he’d said many times.

Henry’s roommate Matt clopped up the wooden staircase to their second-floor apartment. Two plastic grocery bags laden with frozen pizzas, frozen garlic breads, and frozen unclear items hung from his hands. It was clear from his eyes that he was out of it, which wasn’t a rarity. Henry wasn’t clear on how Matt made money. But Matt very rarely left his room. Even now, he struggled to make eye contact with Henry as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“Hey, man. Merry Christmas,” Henry said because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yo,” Matt said, then slunk inside.

Henry followed him into their shared living and kitchen space. Their other roommate Tanya was at the kitchen counter making a mug of tea. Tanya was a little bit older than Matt and Henry, and she often treated them like her little brothers, trying to get them to drink more water and go on walks. More than that, Tanya was obsessed with tarot reading and frequently pulled cards for them without asking if they wanted it.

“I pulled a tarot card for you this morning, Henry!” Tanya said. “It was The Fool.”

Henry scratched his head and grimaced. “I feel pretty foolish right now. I guess the cards knew.”

“That’s not what it means.” Tanya rolled her eyes. “When The Fool appears, it means you’re supposed to take new chances and go after new ideas. It means, despite everything bad that’s ever happened to you, you have to have hope for whatever’s next.”

Matt chortled and stuffed the freezer with frozen pizzas.

Henry sat on the sofa and looked at his hands. He wanted to ask how he was supposed to have hope for whatever was next when producers kept rejecting his ideas for scripts. How was he supposed to have hope for his film career when nobody would give him a chance?

“Did you pull one for yourself?” he asked Tanya, wanting to get off the subject of himself as soon as possible.

“I did.” Tanya rattled off a bunch of tarot card logic that Henry struggled to remember, let alone listen to. She then pressed a mug of tea into Henry’s hands and gave him a strange look. “Call your parents. You’re homesick.”

It didn’t take a Tarot card read to see that, Henry knew.

Back in his room, Henry dialed his mother in Nantucket first.

“Henry,” Julia answered on the second ring. “We’re all together at The Copperfield House. You’re on speaker.”

Henry hated to be put on speaker. Awkwardly, he said, “Hello, everyone.”

“Hi, Henry!” He could hear his aunt Alana and his aunt Ella and his sister Anna and Anna’s baby in the background.

“We’re cooking,” Julia explained. “Lots to do.”

There was a strain in her voice, proof that she was still irritated that he hadn’t accepted money to fly home. “How were your meetings?”

Henry didn’t want to admit that every meeting had gone south, so he said, “They went really well. I’m waiting to hear back. But it’s the holidays, so I won’t know anything for a while.”

“Of course,” she said. “Make sure to follow up and thank them for their time!”

“He knows what he’s doing, Julia,” Aunt Alana said. Henry could picture her rolling her eyes.

Suddenly, another voice came through the speaker. “Is that Henry?”

It was his grandmother Greta. Henry’s heart slowed. “Hi, Grandma!”

“You put him on speaker?” Greta asked. “How awful. Let me take him.”

“Mom!”

But it seemed Greta had already stolen the phone and whisked it to the next room. Henry settled on his mattress and stared at the ceiling while tugging at his hair.

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