Fallow Park Today Read online

  “Twenty-eight.”

  The director smiled; this seemed to be a win for him. “I know a lot of people would love to retire before they’re thirty. There are billions of people in this world who don’t have it so good. Don’t you realize you’ll never have to worry about a place to sleep or putting food on the table or clothes on your back? And look where you live; International Falls is a winter wonderland half the year. You can go skiing every day in the winter—only cross-country, I realize, but that’s better than the day-to-day drudgery of clocking in to work as a nine-to-fiver, is it not? My God, man, you had a job that had you on your feet eight hours a day. Now you can spend the whole day ice skating. If you had gone to the park out in Lifeless Desert you could play golf year round.”

  “Desert Park closed the golf course a few years ago,” Carl cut in coldly. “Too expensive to maintain.”

  Austin was only temporarily silenced. “You’re missing my point. I’m only saying you’ve got a world of options at your fingertips—and the time to pursue them. Skating, sledding—”

  “Snowball fights! Snow angels!” Tyler added. His burst of enthusiasm was delivered in a tone mocking Austin’s speech. “Is that what you think?” he demanded, snapping a pair of sheers shut as if he were emphasizing his disgust. “That this is a gay resort? Convicted murderers in federal prison get free room and board, too. Would billions of people like to trade places with them?”

  “Even if your position were valid,” Austin said on a dismissive note, apparently and suddenly bored with the topic, “we can’t use talk like that here. I don’t know how much about our special has been explained to you. I assume Meredith had a chance to explain it all before we got here. She seems to have prepped you for our arrival. Let me spell it out for you: an objective documentary this ain’t. This is a show that has been sanctioned by the federal government—indeed, paid for by it. We simply cannot use any of that anti-isolation talk. It’s a waste of your breath; it won’t make it into the final cut.”

  Carl, Tyler, and Meredith looked at him in a contemptuous manner that apparently caught him off guard. He found himself compelled to continue, as though he were determined to make them understand. “What we’re looking to do,” he explained, “is put out a positive picture about the parks. A lot of Americans want to know where their tax dollars are going. Most of us question why they’re so expensive—and if they’re being run efficiently.” He gestured with his hands as though he were molding clay. “Imagine you’re fighting for your life. In a sense, you kind of are. You want to keep that in mind—that’s your motivation. In playing the scene, always remember you’re friendly and approachable, but you’re conscious of the fact that the very future of the parks rests on your shoulders. Frankly, it’s in your best interest to assume a brighter tone.”

  “I don’t care for the implicit threat in that statement,” Meredith said. “Nor do I think you’ve got the credibility to make it. You don’t speak for the average citizen.” She smiled blandly at the director. “Let’s not fight,” she offered, trying to back off the confrontational scene. Austin was silent. She trusted a moment of cooling off would diffuse the situation.

  The camera people and assistant directors watched him, waiting for instructions.

  Carl broke the palpable silence. “Let’s turn on the television,” he suggested. “Our favorite show is about to start. This might give us the brighter tone you mentioned.” He was up and across the room before anyone had an opportunity to object. He clicked the set on and turned it so it could be better seen by the cluster of visitors.

  “No, no,” Austin finally said. “That’s going to be too distracting. Besides, there are copyright issues if we film anything on television. Plus, it won’t sell; I’ve been in television most of my life. Here’s what I know: nobody wants to turn on their set and see people watching television. The audience wants to watch people doing something more interactive. They don’t want to see the personalities on the box doing the very thing they’re doing themselves.”

  “But, as Carl said, it’s their favorite show,” Meredith intervened, taking the men’s side if only to be on the opposite side of Austin’s argument. “I don’t think we have a right to upset their schedule. Besides, aren’t we here to film the Fallowites,” a term she coined at this instance, “as they are? Contentedly going about their lives. And here’s a bonus: this is an activity that doesn’t cost the tax payer one red cent. They’ll want to see that. I, for one, am eager to learn how my friends spend their time and what kinds of shows they like. Aren’t you?” she asked one of the interns. “Aren’t you?” she asked another randomly chosen member of the crew. “Aren’t you?”

  Carl picked up this cue: “Oh, I think you’ll get a kick out of it. It’s one of our few joys. Ever since all the cable channels went away, I mean since the government stopped paying for them, we find our schedules are dictated by the few programs we can stand on the two-and-a-half channels we get. It’s called Pots of Luck! Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

  Meredith’s fabricated enthusiasm abandoned her; “Anything but that,” she thought; but she retained her composure and her professionally-honed smile.

  Austin, by contrast, brightened at this: “But that’s perfect! Tyler styling Meredith’s hair while they watch their old show together. Are you getting this?” he asked of the man and woman with cameras. They were. In the fourteen by fourteen foot room, nothing could escape their lenses.

  Meredith, still silent and smiling, turned her attention to the small television and the familiar cartoon credits that opened the show. A sexy, animated version of her, dressed in green, danced and sprinkled gold coins as a Hugh Handsome version of the male star watched with lust. The names of the cast members sprung forth from the titular pot; Meredith was top-billed, and after the male actors’ names appeared, the credits ended with “and Sybil Germaine as Eugenia.”

  “After we’ve revised our schedule,” Austin said, his eyes fixed on the screen as he spoke, “I’ll let you know when we’ll arrange the reunion with Sybil Germaine.”

  “Sybil?!” Meredith scarcely recognized her own voice. She composed herself before proceeding. “Sybil is here now? She was in Chester Park the last I heard.”

  “Transferred,” Tyler told her, taking a pause in his styling duties. “Her partner turned weird. The parks can do that to a person.” He added this last bit with defiance as he looked directly into one of the cameras. “It was an ugly break-up. She took out a lot of her hostility on Sybil. The lady was apparently a real brute. They finally had to be separated.”

  The domestic drama apparently held little interest to Austin; he continued to watch the television. “My sister used to make us watch this show.”

  “Did she now?” Meredith asked in her poorest Irish brogue. But to herself she said “Sybil is here.” Of course, she realized, Austin and the producers had known this. It was no oversight that no one had told her, either. And how predictable of the powers that be to expect Sybil and Meredith to reunite for this show. Undoubtedly they had already arranged it with Sybil. And Sybil, scene-stealing thespian that she was, had most certainly leapt at the opportunity. Here was the kind of monkey wrench she had feared would be tossed into the mix. She had steeled herself for the likelihood that the week would have its share of unforeseen setbacks. And as is the nature of monkey wrenches, she knew that they would catch her off guard. But this? The mere prospect of dealing with the woman would require more mental preparation and reserve than she believed she could gather.

  “Just for a couple of years,” Austin continued. “She grew out of it.” He then addressed the room, in an apparent effort to show off his familiarity with the show. “I hope this is the one with the isolation tank. That’s the best episode.”

  The cartoon opening over, Meredith now watched the opening seconds of the show and said, “Nope, this is the one with the zebra.”

  She settled into her uncomfortable spot, ostentatiously set in the middle of the room, while the
camera people hovered around her. They, as did everyone else, looked back and forth from the small screen to her. It was inevitable that they should compare the current Meredith St. Claire to her pop-icon image of twenty years earlier. She tried to ignore the attention and pretended to be interested in the show.

  “…always wanted a zebra when I was a kid,” the leading man said. “Don’t know what I’d do with one, but I kind of wished I had one.”

  “One zebra coming up,” the youthful Meredith with pixie hair, green tuxedo jacket tailored into a mini-dress, green sparkly tights, and green ballet slippers answered. She, in the role of Lucy the Leprechaun, performed a clever hand gesture with an accompanying musical sound effect: “Dum-de-dah-dum-dum-dah”. “Here is the zebra of your dreams.”

  The characters on the screen jumped noticeably; a break in filming had occurred while a nearby zebra was placed in the scene. The doorbell rang. The principals exchanged desperate glances; they floundered about and bumped into each other; no one made an effort to answer the door. Suddenly, but predictably, the front door opened and the arch nemesis entered. He was Cyril Lindsey, M.D., the chief of staff.

  “Quick, Lucy, get out of here!” the hero demanded.

  Lucy nodded agreeably, dematerializing, but she failed to bring the zebra with her.

  “Doctor Campbell,” Dr. Lindsey bellowed, “what is a zebra doing in your living room?”

  “Serving time?” the goofy side-kick answered, presumably referencing the zebra’s stripes. His deadpan comment prompted a distracting intrusion of canned laughter, disproportionate to the limited humor of the sarcastic remark.

  “Zebra, sir?” Dr. Campbell, the show’s hero, asked with confusion. “Oh, oh that zebra. Yes, well, I can explain that, Dr. Lindsey. You see—”

  “Never mind,” Dr. Lindsey told him. He was strangely calm, unnervingly so. “Just stay right here. Do not move from this spot. The board of directors is on its way over. This time, Dr. Campbell. This time we’ll finally get some answers out of you.” Dr. Lindsey made a hasty departure.

  Carl anticipated the next line: “Lucy, get this zebra out of here.”

  Tyler, in falsetto, joined in: “But Clay, you said you always wanted him. I was only trying to make you happy. You know I’m compelled to answer every wish you make.”

  “I think you two have too much time on your hands,” the real-life Meredith observed.

  “Shh!” Austin commanded to the two men whose living room he had invaded. “The real show’s better. It’s funnier with the laugh track.”

  The young members of the crew seemed to be the only ones who enjoyed the program. For them there was something novel about it, Meredith suspected. “My parents thought this was good?” she could imagine them thinking. Meredith herself was too on edge to relax and give it much attention. It was enough that she had to keep reminding herself to smile for the sake of Austin’s cameras. Carl and Tyler were uneasy with all the strangers in their home. And Austin, after the wave of nostalgia passed over him, or perhaps disappointed that it was a different episode than the one with the isolation tank, was focused on getting “perfect shots.” During commercial breaks he barked orders and snapped at the interns and other flunkies. The youngest man on the crew seemed to invite the bulk of his ire. Twice Austin told him to find a different place to stand because he kept stumbling in view of one or the other of the cameras. The intern appeared to be too interested in the program and frequently joined in with the laugh track.

  As the final scene faded to commercial, the intern said, “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Pots of Luck. I thought it was pretty good. I don’t understand why people say that

  it—” He stopped abruptly.

  “Oh, please continue,” Meredith encouraged him. She surmised that if he had finished the sentence, he would have said “sucks.” “By all means please continue—I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “Alex,” he said. He was somewhat sheepish in his reply. He looked at her, but seemed unable to meet her glare and had to look away. “I’m sorry Ms. St. Claire,” he said, his eyes now fixed on the floor between them, “I was like three years old when your show was on. And later, when they started showing it in the afternoons, well, it seemed to appeal to girls—and gay guys, of course—so I didn’t get the chance to see it.”

  Chapter Three

  “He looked tired,” Meredith remarked to Bill as she claimed his footprints as quickly as he vacated them. Fresh snow had obliterated the existing paths including the one they had cut just two hours earlier.

  They were following Alex, but from some distance, as the intern led the way across the tundra, this open space between Building D and the Administration Building. Though the wind had died down some, and was now on their backs, it still offered enough of a sound barrier to prevent Alex from hearing them. By no accident had Meredith insisted he go first, allowing her and Bill to follow in his size eleven path. Alex had volunteered to be their guide, a “capital” idea Austin immediately seized upon. This was clearly his way of keeping Meredith and her assistant in line, or was at least a means to keep track of them. Meredith finally and most reluctantly acquiesced; to do otherwise might have created an unnecessary scene or prompt questions she could not answer. But she was keenly aware that yet again the production and its director were interfering with her will, and now, even her mobility. She was able to score a small win; she had the intern hold her purse for her, with instructions to handle it carefully; there were, she told him, so many fragile, breakable objects in it—all of them quite expensive and irreplaceable. In truth, the bag held four bead necklaces, all durable and of minimal value. Hapless Alex had to forge a trail for Meredith and Bill, all the while gingerly holding the purse out before him. This was his punishment for being so eager to help, made all the more delicious by the fact that he was too embarrassed to hold a woman’s purse close to his body or over his shoulder. Thus, he had happened onto the plan to hold it up and away, appearing as though he were making an offering of it. Meredith hoped his arms felt like lead.

  “He did look tired,” Bill agreed, “but to be honest I was prepared for much worse.” This was what she wanted to hear; and she knew he knew she knew this. She chided herself at this observation; Pots of Luck-style dialogue had rubbed off on her from the afternoon’s exposure to it: (“Do they know we know they know?”). Though the series was her best known work, she typically flipped past it when she came across it at home. While his primary job duty was not necessarily to be her sounding board or confidant, to the extent that he could fulfill this function it was mutually understood that he would do so.

  “Let’s go this way,” she suddenly suggested. She clung to his arm with both hands and turned him towards a hill. They were now within a matter of yards of Alex, and he had clearly heard the last part of this.

  “They’re expecting you in a few minutes,” Alex reminded her, shouting down the column they created in the white tundra.

  The call had come moments before in Tyler’s apartment. Austin had taken it; he was one of the few in the group authorized to carry a phone. After some talk between the park director and the film director the phone was passed to her. Yes, Meredith had consented, she could meet with Dr. Makepeace at three-thirty. Austin and the crew had already packed up and were headed back to the Administration Building soon after the phone call was concluded. And as they were traveling by vans, Meredith supposed they were already back. When Alex was appointed to accompany Meredith and Bill, he had been more than elated. If his assignment was intended as a slight to Bill, whose job it was to assist Meredith with all tasks necessary to keep her on track, Bill had hidden any signs of dismay he felt. It was Meredith who assumed the role of the injured party, insulted by the notion that she needed a babysitter. But her efforts to send Alex away had been met with hostility and were ultimately thwarted. She smiled thinly at Austin’s statement that she should be pleased to add another member to her entourage. Glances she exchanged with Bill
communicated their understanding that because of the intern’s presence her opportunity to speak privately to Tyler was lost.

  “They’ll wait,” Meredith now assured the intern raising her voice to be heard. She added sardonically at a lower volume: “It’s not like they’re going to fire me. Besides, they’ll be forever setting up. Let’s go over there,” she now said, not particularly caring if he could hear her. She pointed to the rolling hills to the right of them at the far edge of the open field. Scattered about the edges were metal structures, a silhouette of an abandoned amusement park.

  Five minutes of traipsing through the, at times foot-deep, snow brought them to the site of the deserted carnival. Meredith found a bench and dropped onto it without attempting to clear away the snow. She pulled the collar of her coat closer at the neck, and tugged at her sleeves so they would overlap the tops of her gloves.

  “What a dumb place to put an amusement park,” she said. “It was inactive six months out of the year. The snow starts falling in October around here.”