Page 79 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“I think what I’ve become is someone who really values communication. I trust people, but I am absolutely allergic to lies. Seriously. Lie to me once, and you’re dead to me.” I laugh, but then register how that sounded. “Not you. I just meant anyone. If anyone lies to me, I’m?—”
“Got it,” she says.
Damnit.
I’ve gone off the deep end with this conversation.
“What are you doing right now?” I ask abruptly. “I want to picture you.”
Wow, I’m batting a thousand tonight.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean that in a ‘what-are-you-wearing?’ kind of way. Just in an ‘I’m-sitting-on-my-bed-drinking-tea-how-’bout-you-what-are-you-doing?’ kind of way.”
Penny laughs. “Understood. Currently, I’m in my apartment, sitting on my prized midcentury modern chair I found at a thrift store for thirty bucks in Williamsburg and staring at my Christmas tree. Oh, and I’m sipping some red wine.”
“Mother of Junk?” I perk up. “Is that where you got the chair?”
“Yes!” she says.
“I love that place! It’s right by the gym.”
“Oh yeah. I guess it is.”
“Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as someone who enjoys a thrift store. You know, with all the designer suits and stuff you wear.”
“Where do you think I get them?” she asks.
“Ohhhhh,” I say dumbly.
“Yeah, ohhhhh,” she says, her sass returning. “Matt. Did you really think I could afford designer suits on my Herald’s salary?” She laughs.
“I guess I assumed you had some kind of trust fund situation.”
“Um, no. I make a point to accept absolutely nothing from my parents.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I say.
“Not a very interesting one.” She pauses. “But if I did have lots of money and could afford those things… would that be so bad?”
I think about that for a moment.
“No,” I finally say. “No, it wouldn’t. Believe me, I wish I had more of it myself, but…”
“But…” she leads.
Sirens wail down Ninth Avenue. I closed the window I had cracked open. The steam heat in this old building gets intense sometimes.
I take a deep breath before answering, “Money was a huge source of tension in my house growing up. My parents fought about it constantly. I watched my dad work overtime doing jobs he hated, hoping it would be enough to make my mom happy, but... Anyway, so you can imagine the war that broke out between her and me when I announced that I wanted to be an actor, one of the most notoriously unstable careers out there. And then when I failed at being an actor…”
“Hold on a second. Did you really fail, though?”
“You don’t see me up on the silver screen, do ya?” I chuckle.
“No,” she says. “But I do see you running a business you adore. I see you making a difference in the lives of kids who love you, whether you teach them about fitness or lead them through a truly hilarious holiday show experience. I see you immersed in your creativity and passion every single day and inspiring the people around you with your annoyingly unshakable positivity while you do it. That’s not a person who has failed, Matt. That’s someone who found a new path and is walking it beautifully.”
“Damn, girl. That was one hell of a speech,” I say.
“Yeah, I really went for it, didn’t I?” she laughs. “Allow me one amendment to my speech, though?”
