Good in Bed

I talked for hours that afternoon, screaming out the joyous news to my mother, to Lucy and Josh, to Andy and Samantha, to assorted relatives and colleagues, to anyone I could think of who’d share in my happiness. Then I called Dr. K. at his office.

“It’s Ca

“Your friend’s feeling better?”

“Much better,” I said, and explained it – how Adrian had recovered, how I’d decided to stay at Maxi’s, how tiny little Violet had gotten me all of this money.

“It’s going to be a great movie,” Dr. K. said.

“I can’t even believe it,” I said, for perhaps the thirtieth time that afternoon. “It doesn’t even feel real.”

“Well, just enjoy it,” he said. “It sounds like you’re off to a wonderful start.”

Maxi watched the whole thing bemusedly, and threw a te

“Who’s that one?” she asked, and I explained.

“He’s… well, he was my doctor, when I was trying to lose weight, before I got pregnant. Now he’s a friend, I guess. I called him last night to ask him about Adrian.”

“It sounds like you like him,” she said, waggling her eyebrows, Groucho Marx style. “Does he make house calls?”

I have no idea,” I said. “He’s very nice. Very tall.” “Tall’s good,” said Maxi. “So what now?” “Di

“Oh, that’s right,” said Maxi. “I forgot that you’re multitalented. You can write, and cook, too!”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said. “Let me see what else is in the fridge.”

Maxi smiled. “I’ve got a better idea of something we should do first,” she said.

The guard at the front of the jewelry store nodded at me and Maxi, and swung the heavy glass door open wide.

“What are we doing here?” I whispered.

“Buying you a treat,” said Maxi. “And you don’t have to whisper.”

“What are you, my sugar daddy?” I scoffed.

“Oh, no,” Maxi said very seriously. “You’re going to buy something for yourself.”

I gaped at her. “What? Why? Shouldn’t you be encouraging me to save? I’ve got a baby on the way”

“Of course you’re going to save,” said Maxi, sounding eminently sensible. “But my mother always told me that every woman should have one beautiful, perfect thing that she bought for herself… and you, my dear, are now in a position to do just that.”

I took a deep breath, like I was about to dive into deep water, rather than just walk through a jewelry store. The room was full of glass cases, at the level of what used to be my waist, and each case was full of a treasure trove of ornaments, all arranged artfully on pads of black and dove-gray velvet. There were emerald rings, sapphire rings, slender bands of platinum set with diamonds. There were dangling amber earrings and topaz brooches, bracelets of silver mesh so fine I could barely make out the links, and cuffs of hammered gold. There were glittering charm bracelets bearing tiny ballet slippers and miniature car keys… sterling silver earrings in the shape of plump Valentine hearts… interlocked bands of pink and yellow gold… glittering pins shaped like ladybugs and sea horses… diamond te

A saleswoman in a neat navy suit appeared behind it as quickly as if she’d been teleported over. “What can I show you?” she asked warmly. I pointed tentatively at smallest pair of diamond earrings that I saw. “Those, please,” I asked.

Maxi peered over my shoulder. “Not those,” she scoffed. “Ca

“Shouldn’t something on my body be tiny?” I asked.

Maxi looked at me, puzzled. “Why?”

“Because…” I said. My voice trailed off.

Maxi grabbed my hand. “You know what?” she said. “I think you look fine. I think you look wonderful. You look happy… and healthy… and, and pregnant…”

“Don’t forget that,” I said, laughing.

The saleswoman, meanwhile, was unfolding a piece of black velvet and laying earrings out on top of the case – the itsy-bitsy pair I’d requested first, then another pair about twice as large. The diamonds were each about the size of a SunMaid raisin, I thought, and cupped them in my hand, watching them sparkle, flashing blue and violet.

“They’re gorgeous,” I said softly, and lifted them up to my ears.

“They suit you,” said the saleswoman.

“We’ll take them,” Maxi said, sounding very certain. “And don’t bother wrapping them. She’ll wear them home.”

Later, in the car, with my new earrings sending spangled rainbows against the roof whenever the sunlight flashed through them, I tried to thank her – for taking me in, for buying my screenplay, for making me believe in a future where I deserved such things. But Maxi just brushed it off. “You deserve nice things,” she said kindly. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise, Ca

I took a deep breath. Friend, I whispered to the baby. To Maxi, I said, “I’m going to make you the best di

“I don’t understand this,” said my mother, who was checking in with her daily afternoon phone call/interrogation session. “And I’ve got five minutes to figure it out.”

“Five minutes?” I tucked the phone closer to my chest and squinted at my toes, trying to decide whether it was possible to survive in Hollywood with badly chipped toenail polish, or if I’d be fined by the pedicure police. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Preseason softball,” my mother said briskly. “We’re scrimmaging the Lavender Menace.”

“Are they any good?”

“They were last year. But you’re changing the subject. Now, you’re living with Maxi…,” my mother began, her voice trailing off hopefully. Or at least I thought that’s what I detected.

“We’re just friends, Ma,” I said. “The platonic kind.”

She sighed. “It’s not too late, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“So what are you doing?”

“I’m having fun,” I said. “I’m having a great time.” I barely knew where to start. I’d been in California for almost three weeks, and every day, it seemed, Maxi and I went on some adventure, some little trip in Adrian’s red convertible, which felt more and more like an enchanted chariot, or a magic carpet, every day. Last night after di

There were things in California that I still hadn’t gotten used to – the uniform beauty of the women, for one, the way every other person I saw in the coffee bars or gourmet grocery stores looked vaguely familiar, like they’d played the girlfriend or the second banana’s buddy on some quickly cancelled sitcom from 1996. And the car culture of the place astonished me – everyone drove everywhere, so there weren’t any sidewalks or bicycle lanes, just endless traffic jams, smog as thick as marmalade, valet parking everywhere – even, unbelievably, at one of the beaches we’d visited. “I have now, officially, seen everything,” I told Maxi. “No, you haven’t,” she’d replied. “On the Third Street Promenade there’s a dachshund dressed up in a sequined leotard that’s part of a juggling act. Once you’ve seen that, you’ve seen everything.”

“Are you working at all?” asked my mother, who didn’t sound impressed with tales of juggling dachshunds and white peaches.

“Every day,” I told her, which was true. In between adventures, and outings, I was spending at least three hours a day on the deck with my laptop. Violet had sent me a script so larded with notes it was practically unreadable. “DO NOT PANIC,” she’d written in lavender-colored ink on the title page. “Purple notes are mine, red notes are from a reader the studio hired, black from the guy who may or may not wind up directing this – and most of what he says is bullshit, I think. Take everything with a grain of salt, they are SUGGESTIONS ONLY!” I was gradually working through the thicket of scribbled marginalia, cross-outs, arrows, and Post-it addenda.