Someday, Someday, Maybe Read Online Free Page B

rate.
    But for some reason, I don’t.
    As much fun as I have with Clark, it can also be confusing when I see him. I miss him, a lot sometimes …
    Shit .
    Do you see why focusing on the positive is such tricky business? You’ve got the slippery guy for a minute, and then he turns all negative on you. I’ll be more specific—I’ll just think positive work thoughts. Thinking about my personal life is not helping me. I came to New York to be an actress, not a girlfriend or a happy person.
    Positive thoughts about work.
    Well.
    I did book that one job.
    Before Thanksgiving, right after Dan moved in, I got a small regional commercial, my first, for a local discount clothing store called Sally’s Wear House. It was a holiday promotional to run for just a few weeks, featuring really bulky sweaters, made out of acrylic and ramie, whatever that is. Mine had a gray and white argyle pattern and padded shoulders with white fur trim around the neck and cuffs, and I had to wrap my arms around myself in a hug, and say, “Yummy, Yummy.” In another shot, I had to jump up in the air and yell, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas!” Then, I had to look up at absolutely nothing and say, “Ohhh, snowflakes.”
    The three of us went out to the upstairs Chinese place, whose name we can never remember, to celebrate. Then the commercial happened to come on a few weeks later, while we were all together watching Law and Order , and first we all screamed, then Jane practically fell down laughing. Not in a mean way, but she just couldn’t believe I’d managed to appear happy while wearing such an ugly sweater. It was shocking to see myself on television. No one had thought to set the VCR, and it was gone in what felt like a few seconds. All I could remember after it was over was thinking that my face seemed round, and I looked much taller than the other girl I was with.
    “I’m a giant!” I said, covering my face and peering out between my fingers.
    “You’re not a giant,” Jane said, still laughing/coughing/hicupping. “You’re a fucking great actress is what you are. I totally believed you loved that sweater that came from where angora goes to die.”
    “Those snowflakes they added looked so fake,” I said, still in shock.
    “But you looked great,” Jane said. “Really pretty.”
    Finally, Dan spoke up.
    “So, it’s an ad for Christmas sweaters?” Once again, nailing the obvious.
    “Um, yes, Dan,” Jane said, rolling her eyes at me. “I think we can all agree that what we learned in those thirty seconds is that the commercial was for Christmas sweaters.”
    Dan nodded slowly, as if he were making a very important decision about something, then he smiled at me.
    “Well, Franny, I felt that,” he said. “It was very Christmas-y. You looked like Christmas, Fran.”
    What does that even mean, to say someone “looks like” Christmas? Jane and I shared a look, and I immediately began to formulate my snappy comeback, the way I do whenever I’m complimented. But something about his sincerity stopped me, and for some reason, for once in my life, I nodded at Dan and blushed a little, and just kept my mouth shut.
    I made seven hundred dollars on the sweater job, the biggest amount by far I’ve ever seen on a single check. But I haven’t booked anything else since. It was probably a fluke. I’ll probably never work again.
    Positive thoughts .
    Well.
    I got that one job.
    And today I have a chance to get one more.
    There. I did it.
    When the subway arrives, I find a seat and take a deep breath. The D train between Brooklyn and Manhattan is one of my favorite lines, because at one point the train emerges from underground and goes high over the river along the Manhattan Bridge. Sometimes I put on my headphones and listen to music, sometimes I do the New York Times crossword, and sometimes I read, but no matter what else I’m doing, I consider it very bad luck if I forget to look up as the train crosses over the East River,