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I could not see that. Not exactly. "I don't know," I said, my voice wavering. "I mean…"
"What's the plan then? You come home and you guys have a long-distance thing that you keep totally secret from the only living relative you have besides your mom?" We both counted my father as dead since I hadn't seen him in years. He wasn't dead, actually, but the fact that he'd gone off and started a new family made him dead to me, even though he still insisted on sending me birthday cards.
"I hadn't really thought ahead that far," I said, the words sounding inadequate even to me.
"Rob will shit," Lynn said plainly. "And then you'll lose another job."
I sighed. My uncle would be angry, that was for sure. But part of me wondered if he would let it go if he realized this thing with Callan was real. Was it real? "But I think this might be something beyond just a fling," I suggested. "I really…like him." The word 'like' was inadequate to capture my feelings, but all other options were too much just yet.
"You do, huh?" Lynn's voice lightened. "Are you sure it isn't just the sex? Or his fancy big house? Or the fact that he's Callan fucking Whitewood of the enormous underwear billboard?"
"I mean, it is the sex…partly. He's just…" My mind whirled and I closed my eyes. "It's like magic when we're together, like he knows exactly what to do to me. It's like he's some kind of wizard or something."
"He's a dick wizard?"
Dick wizard? Who even says that? I laughed, and when I got hold of myself again, said, "Yeah, he's some kind of dick wizard I guess. But he's sweet, Lynn. And he's got this vulnerable side I'm getting glimpses of here and there, like even though he's been this famous soccer star, he's kind of lonely. It sounds like he hasn't had anyone to talk to in a long time. And his brother and nieces are great too. They've really included me, made me feel welcome."
"It's going to be hard to leave," Lynn warned.
"I think I'm ready for you to stop playing devil's advocate and just be my friend."
"Yeah? Okay. I can do that. I just want you to be happy, April. But for selfish reasons I don't want to lose you to some crazy little Maryland town that changes its name for every holiday."
"I don't think they do that. It sounds like this is the first time—"
"Really not the point."
"Right."
"Okay, girl. I'm happy for you. Just be careful, okay? And for God's sake, don't let your uncle find out you're banging the help again!"
A snort-laugh escaped me. "The help?"
"The cast, whatever. It just sounded better like that. Dramatic. You're in TV. You get dramatic. The dick wizard."
"He's not even going to appear. Just his house. I'm not banging his house."
"How would that even work? I'm getting a visual on that I'm not liking a lot. Quick, talk about something else."
"Chinchillas," I said quickly.
"Do not bang a chinchilla." Lynn's voice was serious and I giggled. "They're tiny. I don't know how that would work exactly. Maybe with like a tiny dildo or something…either way, you'd probably kill the poor thing, and—"
"Okay, thanks. I'm marking houses and chinchillas off my perv list."
"Yeah. Good idea."
"I miss you," I said.
"Me too. Keep me updated."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too. Bye." Lynn hung up and I sat for a long time on my bed, thinking about Callan Whitewood (who I would now accidentally call "dick wizard" in my head for all of eternity), chinchillas, Christmas, and my uncle. Not necessarily in that order.
* * *
Spending the weekend with Callan and Cormac and two little girls who were enthusiastic about literally everything was like spending time in an alternate universe. I didn't talk to my uncle, and except for a brief meeting with the production team, I didn't really think about work.
