Page 93 of A Secret Escape

“Parental love isn’t a movie award. It isn’t something you win. You don’t have to be voted the best at something to deserve it. And if you couldn’t please her, then that’s her failure, not yours. No child should be made to feel as if they have to earn a parent’s love. They should grow up knowing they’re loved for who they are, not who their parents want them to be. And if that doesn’t happen, then the fault doesn’t lie with you.”

In her heart she knew that, but it was good to hear him say it.

“I grew up wanting her approval. Needing it. And every time I did well I’d thinkThis is it, this is the moment when she is going to say something warm and loving, but she never did. And after a while it ceased to matter because the public gave me the approval I needed. And at the beginning the fame gave me confidence. It finally made me feel as if I was an okay person. As long as I had their good opinion, I felt validated. It was like a drug. Gave me a real high.”

She waited for him to say something, but he sat quietly, paying attention, so she carried on.

“But then people turn on you. A rumor on social media. A photograph that’s misinterpreted. A movie that tanks. And you realize how thin and shallow it all is. And it isn’t real, of course, because they’re judging the parts you play, not you. And producers and directors claim to love you, but all they really love is the money you bring in. All that flattery and attention from studio heads isn’t about you but about your commercial value. And eventually you realize that the whole thing is empty and that despite all the fame and success you’re lonelier than you’ve ever been.” She felt awkward. “Sorry. I know how lucky I’ve been. I’m grateful for it.”

He stirred. “Presumably one of the upsides of the success is that it has given you financial security. Financial security gives you a certain degree of freedom, but you don’t feel free at the moment, do you?”

“No.”

“In the end the only opinion that really matters is your own. Only you can decide what is right for you. What you really want to do with your life.”

“Playing other people was a way of not thinking about who I was. I’ve done it for so long, I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore.”

“Of course you do.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Like many creative people, you’re sensitive. You care what people think. You love the outdoors, and you’re naturally adventurous, but the life you’re living now has made you wary and afraid. You’re sure of your talents because you know you’re good at what you do, but despite that you worry that you’re not enough. Everything you do, you have to be best at because you think that’s the way to earn people’s respect and love. You didn’t feel that you were good enough as a daughter, and that created a lasting impact. It’s the reason you feel you haven’t been a good enough friend to Milly, even though it’s obvious that you’ve been a great friend, despite this recent blip. It’s the reason you’re afraid you won’t be good enough as a mother, when any child would be lucky to have you in their life. You’re trusting and loyal by nature, but people have betrayed and used you so many times you no longer dare to be who you really are.”

She swallowed, a little shaken by his insight. “I must have said a lot more last night than I remember saying.”

“How would it feel to just be yourself and not have to try so hard? You put all your effort into being the best, becoming a star, being big—but what would life look like if it was smaller? If the only people who cared what you do and think and eat for breakfast are the people who love you?”

She stared into her coffee cup. “There aren’t many of those.”

“I think you’ll find you’re wrong about that, but either way isn’t it better to live the life you choose rather than a life designed to please other people, whether it’s your mother or an audience?”

“Acting was my dream.”

“And in your case you made it a reality, but it doesn’t sound like much of a dream anymore. Maybe it’s time to find a new dream.” He finished his coffee. “It’s hard to give up something you’ve excelled at. I can see that. Why leave something when you’re at the top of your game? But if it’s no longer what you want to do, it’s okay to let it go. Move on to something new.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to do if I wasn’t an actor.” She toyed with her cup.

“From what you’ve said you still enjoy acting, so maybe you can do something lower-key. Milly always says how good you are with Zoe. Maybe you could run drama workshops.”

Milly had told him she was good with Zoe? That unexpected compliment raised her spirits a notch.

“Drama workshops? You mean for kids?”

“I don’t know what I mean. I was just throwing ideas out there as a start.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to go. Why don’t you think about it today while I’m out? There’s plenty of paper in the study, just through that door. Write down all the things that make you happy and all the things you’d like to delete from your life if you had the chance. We can look at it together tonight.”

He stood up and reached for the plates, but she beat him to it.

“I’ll clear up. It’s the least I can do. You get ready.”

“Are you sure? You’ll be all right here today?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to do what you suggested and imagine a different life.” She loaded the dishwasher and wiped the table, and by the time she’d finished he was ready to leave.

“Call if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” She had no intention of calling him. He’d already given her what she needed most. A shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear, sanctuary. More importantly, he’d made her think and question. Now all she needed was some answers.

First she was going to put her California home on the market. That decision was one of the easy ones to make. She should have done it a long time ago. Perhaps by taking that first step, she’d feel as if she was a little more in control.

He paused by the door. “I know you don’t believe me, but everything is going to be okay. I’m sure of it.”

He left the house, and she immediately got to work.

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