Page 36 of Find Me in California

“Oh.” I’d nearly forgotten what the studio reminded her of—the place had changed a lot since I arrived. I’d painted over the 1950s floral wallpaper with a vibrant, cheery yellow to match my bedspread. Plants filled the windowsills in the main room and bathroom. And I’d hung the psychedelic prints my friend June had painted a couple of years back above my bed.

“It’s groovy. I love what you’ve done to the place. Honestly, it’s never looked better. It’s just—Not good memories ... for me ... in here.” The words seemed difficult for her to express. She gulped the vodka and set down the tumbler.

“Let’s sit on the patio,” I suggested.

Relief flooded her face. “That would be lovely.” She darted from the studio, and I replenished our drinks before joining her outside. I sat across the square teak table from her and folded my legs.

“Matty’s left.” Liza sipped at her drink, her attention on the expansive yard. A light breeze teased the hair around her face.

“On location again?”

She nodded and explained that he was in Bakersfield all week for night shoots. She expected he’d be a bear when he returned and wasn’t looking forward to his mood. I asked if she missed him when he was gone.

“Yes and no.” She turned to me. “Do you see yourself ever getting married?”

I debated what to share. I wasn’t too proud of what I’d done to Benjie. But I wanted a friend in Liza. “I was engaged once. I left him at the altar.”

Her eyes widened. “Do tell.” She leaned back in her chair and casually crossed her legs as I told her about Benjie. He lived across the street, and we’d grown up together. My parents adored him, as did I. He was my friend. Our parents had planned out our whole lives. Marriage, kids, Christmases with our families. Summers at his parents’ lake house. Benjie liked the picture they’d painted, and for a while, I had liked it too. Life would have been easy with Benjie. We were happy together. But while he was in love with me and I loved him back, I wasn’tinlove with him. Toward the end of high school, I grew restless.

“You grew bored,” Liza deadpanned.

“Am I that transparent?”

“It’s refreshing.”

Yes, I’d been bored. I lived in a small town with nothing to do. There was a big world out there that I wanted to explore.

“You were a teenager,” she also remarked.

I was, and I hadn’t been getting along with my parents. So, the night before the wedding, I skipped out on the rehearsal dinner. I was eighteen, legally an adult, but still emotionally young and very unsure about being tied down in marriage. I went to a dive bar where I knew nobody would look for me and the bartender didn’t check IDs. I started taking shots with a guy at the bar. His name was Sam, and he was a drifter. We talked through the night. We did other stuff too, but mostly we talked. I spent the night in his van.

“Look at you.” Liza shook her head, impressed at my rebellious streak.

My parents were conservative, their ideals stuck in the forties. Sometimes I felt like Benjie was stuck there too. Sam believed in women’s equality—at least until it was time to do his laundry, which I found out later. But after that first night with him, I’d been high on Sam and our conversations, and went home prepared to tell Benjie that it was over between us. I’d cheated on him.

He’d been waiting for me outside my parents’ house. He knew I’d been having second thoughts and offered to postpone the wedding so I could think about it. He wasn’t ready to give up on us. I let him talk me into sticking around. But I knew that if we didn’t marry that day, I’d never marry him. My parents were outraged at my behavior, but when were they not? Still, Benjie and I talked, and we agreed to keep the wedding on. I went upstairs and got ready. Then I came downstairs in my gown. The wedding was taking place in my parents’ backyard. All the guests were waiting for the ceremony to begin. But through the front window as my mother preened around me, adjusting my dress, I saw Sam drive up in his van. He pushed the side door open and waited.

“For what?” Liza leaned forward, fully invested in my story.

“He’d told me the night before that he was leaving that day for the commune. He also told me not to get married. Said it would neverwork between Benjie and me, and that I was wasting my life by doing what Benjie and my parents wanted of me. He said it was my life, my one chance to thrive on this big blue marble of ours, and I needed to live it the way I wanted to.”

I don’t recall making the decision not to go through with the wedding. I don’t even recall opening the front door. I just remember running, and that first taste of glorious freedom bursting like a firework inside me. Sam whooped with excitement when I flew out the front door. I threw myself into his van. He slammed the door and gunned the gas. We drove straight to Colorado. It was the most spontaneous thing I’d ever done.

“Do you regret it?” Liza asked.

“Leaving? No.” I only regret hurting Benjie. He hadn’t done anything to deserve me leaving him the way I had.

“Good. And you shouldn’t. Never settle.”

“Would you marry Matty again?”

“In a heartbeat. I love him as much as I hate him. Well, not him, just his profession. And some of the industry people he brings home. But he loves being an actor. The attention, the off-screen drama, the glamour and the money. Who wouldn’t love that, and who am I to take that from him? He came from nothing. I can’t ask him to stop acting just because I don’t like the mess that comes along with it.”

“You should talk to him about it, let him know you’re unhappy.”

“Oh, he knows.” She sighed. “Matty doesn’t belong to me. He belongs to the world. Eight years married and I’m still getting used to sharing him. And I grew up in this industry. He didn’t. I don’t think I could ever leave him either. He could flaunt his starlets in front of me and I’d look the other way,” she reflects with a faraway look. “If I ever did walk away from him, it would only be because I’d want him to come after me, for him to prove he loved me just as much.”

“Do you think he’d follow you?”

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