The Beautiful Truth

// 131

The call came on a thick gray Thursday in April. Micki had been across Canada and was now sending her daily updates as they moved back toward the west. Chase had just left for a weekend at home in Orange County—I'd dropped him off at the airport less than an hour ago. Weeks from the draft, Travis was at the NFL combine for one last round of workouts. My dad was in New York City, meeting with his publisher. Talyn was, according to his Facebook status, at the Children's Hospital. Dr. Bovich was teaching his freshman honors English class. And so, I had no one with whom to share my news—at least not in the immediate sense.

After several attempts at phone calls to all of those people yielded no live person to celebrate with, I went for a run and contemplated the news. My life was about to change, I was certain, although I was still having trouble wrapping my head around everything.

My film got the green light.

Shooting was scheduled to begin on the Berkeley campus in July. We had two weeks to shoot everything. Casting was in two weeks. This was happening.

I found myself blinking my eyes a lot as I ran, apparently trying to wake up from what was surely a dream. I was getting carried away, trying to imagine what the finished project was going to look like, and so I barely noticed when it started to rain.

In seconds, though, the sky opened up, and the light rain became a torrential downpour. I ducked into the nearest doorway, escaping into dryness before a loud crash of thunder echoed over campus. Weird. It never thunderstorms in California.

"Sawyer?"

Suddenly I realized where I was. The burgundy floor and the old oak paneled walls, the warm golden light and the hundreds of wine bottles on the wall behind the old oak bar...and the voice of a woman, who I knew, when I turned around to face her, would have beautiful auburn hair and warm brown eyes that, although not the same color as her son's, would hold just as much emotion in them.

I gasped at the sound of her voice, and turned quickly to face her. "I'm so sorry," I blurted out for no particular reason. "I guess I didn't realize it was going to storm when I went out running and I got caught in it, and this was the first—"

Jaime Washington was looking at me with such genuine confusion and concern that I stopped talking. "Sawyer, honey, it's OK. Come sit down. Dry off. You're more than welcome to sit here and wait it out."

I hesitated. "But—"

Jaime cocked her head slightly to the side. "Come on, I'll make you some tea. Green, right?"

I frowned harder.

"Sawyer," Jaime said again, wrinkling her perfect brow and willing me to sit down at the otherwise empty bar. "I'm only gonna tell you this once."

I looked at her with what I was sure were wide eyes, full of fear and apprehension, not knowing what on earth to expect.

Jaime danced around behind the bar, gathering what she needed to make my tea as she did so. "Actually, I'm glad you happened upon this place. I was just thinking about you. It must've been fate."

I forgot to argue about fate being a nonexistent force, and continued staring at her, fighting the urge to get up and run back out into the rain, becoming more and more concerned that she was about to berate me for breaking her son's heart.

She sat down a steeping mug of green tea in front of me. "Now, where was I? Oh, once. Right," she repeated, apparently collecting her thoughts.

She looked at me with a calculating expression. "I love my son very much," she told me, as if that wasn't a given. "But sometimes he can be such an idiot."

Still staring.

"He is now, and will forever be, in love with you, Sawyer. He's just too proud to admit it. And I know, I don't know all the details of what happened, but knowing my son...he was being stupidly self-preserving. You can thank Michael Black for that much."

I dropped my eyes to the tea she'd made for me, sure it was still too hot to drink.

"Sawyer," Jaime said quietly, willing me to look at her again. "If you feel like...it looks like you still feel, just be patient. Barton will come around."

So much of love is in the timing, I'd read in some book recently. And boy, was that ever apparent.

"Remember when Barton told me I should remake the movie based on my dad's book?" I skipped ahead randomly.

Jaime frowned, trying to remember, then relaxed her face. "Of course. You were both sitting right here when he brought it up."

I smiled slightly, despite myself. "I just got the call from my...uh, my agent. I'm... I'm making a movie."

Jaime Washington stared at me now, in shock, I supposed, for a second, before her lovely face lit up with genuine excitement. "Sawyer. That's incredible."

"Tell me about it," I mused. "The crappy part, though, is that I couldn't get in touch with anyone that would care—so that's why I went running. I guess I was daydreaming and didn't realize it was about to storm like this."

Another peal of thunder crashed outside.

"Well," Jaime smiled again. "I'm glad you ended up here. Just think, if you had turned left instead of right when you left your house."

I sighed.

"I want to hear all about it," she assured me.

And for whatever reason, it felt like she meant it. While the storm raged outdoors, I sat at the warm, friendly wine bar and told her all about the film, and the details I knew so far. She even opened a bottle of champagne for me, and I felt horrible, not wanting to believe I deserved such hospitality from her.

"I can't wait to tell Barton," Jaime said softly, after clinking her champagne glass to mine.

My eyes fell, and I wondered, not for the first time since they'd left on this tour, where he was and what he was doing. I found it hard to believe that I'd ever stop missing him.

"Hey, um, did you ever go talk to Amy?" Jaime asked suddenly. I could tell she was trying to make an obvious change of subject, but I wasn't sure if it was a merciful one or not.

I shook my head. "I...I mean, I know where her office is. It's just..."

"Intimidating?" Jaime offered. "I bet."

I pondered this for a long time. I would have to meet her sooner or later. There was no way I could cast the woman's part without doing so, and what's more is...I wanted to meet her. I wanted to tell her that my dad was still in love with her.

"What do I say?" I asked. I really asked no one in particular, but Jaime was the only one around, obviously.

Jaime smiled softly before moving back down the bar to clean some invisible blemish on the counter's surface. "Tell her you're about to change her life."