Karen: If you ask me, what happened to Bobby is proof that the #MeToo movement has gone too far.
Lauren: If you ask me, we still have a long way to go. I’m a feminist.
Karen: Excuse me, but I’m a feminist, too. I’ll have you know my first internship was at Ms. magazine. And I support legitimate #MeToo claims. But it’s like I said: the movement has gone too far. Think about some of the other recent accusations. There was the senator who had to resign because a woman said he tried to kiss her. And what about that talk-show host who lost his job because one employee—who, by the way, had just been fired—came forward to say that he’d made passes at her over the years? And that poor comedian!
Lauren: The one who masturbated in front of his coworkers? Ew.
Karen: No, not him. The other one, Adam Appel. Did you hear about this? He went on a date with this girl—
Lauren: Woman.
Karen: Fine, woman. And then they went back to his apartment and he suggested they have sex because, you know, he’s a guy. That’s what guys do. And later she said she only slept with him because he kept trying to make it happen. Why didn’t she say no? Why didn’t she walk away?
Lauren: Probably because she thought it would be rude. And women are taught to be polite and accommodating, even when it comes to unwanted advances. Which is why so many men manage to wear them down.
Karen: And men are taught to be assertive. To keep trying because a girl is supposed to play hard to get. I get that the rules are changing, and that’s fine. Actually, that’s great. You know I raised you and your sister to know your own minds, to speak up. But are we supposed to pretend that it’s always been this way? What that poor man did was nothing that every single guy out there hasn’t done, too. Every. Single. Guy. He obviously didn’t mean anything by it. Appel was one of the good ones. And look at what happened to him. His tour got canceled, he was disinvited from hosting that award show. Cancel culture is not the solution!
Lauren: He’s fine, Mom. He made a comeback. You were watching his Netflix special this weekend.
Karen: I did! And for your information, Appel addressed the controversy head on. He said it made him rethink every date he’d ever been on. I was so surprised he’d even talk about it. He was a class act, too. It was just refreshing, you know, seeing him up on that stage. I was happy he got to say his piece in front of a packed audience.
Lauren: What about her?
Karen: What “her”?
Lauren: The woman Appel went out on a date with. The one who said he went too far. When does she get to speak about it in front of hundreds of people? When is it her turn to be heard?
Twenty-Six
Gina
Thursday, October 10th
There are fourteen items on Gina’s to-do list for the day, but so far, she hasn’t been able to complete a single one. Right now, she is supposed to be compiling the ASC’s proposed list of names for the new drive across Eagle Street, but instead she is sitting in her kitchen, elbows resting on the granite island, reading an article that popped up on her Facebook feed about a children’s author called Julie Meyers, her estranged sister, and her very nosy grandmother.
“Missing the Hamptons?” the voice behind her asks.
Gina feels her cheeks glow. She doesn’t turn around—she keeps her eyes on her computer, on the image of the summer house and the two sisters. “You can make out the caption on my screen from all the way over there? You’re a walking advertisement for Lasik.”
He walks like he’s displacing oxygen. “How are you?” Nick asks, facing her.
“Me? I’m great. My vision’s always been twenty-twenty.”
“Would you believe me if I said Bali cured me?” A wolfish grin.
“I’m not sure myopia is a disease.”
“It’s not.” He takes a step closer to her. “But wearing glasses is.”
“Vanity, thy name is Dewar.”
“Careful,” he says, chuckling. “It’s your name, too.” He juts his chin at Gina’s computer screen. “I know that was taken in the Hamptons because Alice was reading that article earlier today. She’s our therapist.”
Gina frowns. “You’re in therapy?” This is the first she’s hearing of it. And hadn’t the article referred to Julie Meyers as a children’s author? “She’s beautiful,” Gina offers.
He points to the redhead in the photo, Julie’s sister. “This is her. Cassie Meyers. Alice and I see her once a week, via Skype.”
“Oh. Well, your therapist and her sister have led a very interesting life.” Apparently, the two sisters hadn’t spoken to one another in ages, until their grandmother died last year and, as a condition of her will, forced them to spend one final summer at their family home in Montauk. The article is focused on Julie, specifically on how her grandmother’s meddling from beyond the grave had inspired her new collection of stories. Gina hasn’t reached the end of the article, so she doesn’t know if the sisters’ story has a happy ending—had their grandmother’s plan worked?—but she hopes it does.
Happy endings are just about all she can handle right now.
Gina closes her laptop. “What are you doing here, Nick?”
“What, no scolding because of my aversion to doorbells?”
“I’m thinking of recording a cue, you know, like the ones said by some guy before a talk-show host walks in? Heeeeere’s Nick! Maybe then you’d give it a try.”
“Not a chance.” He pulls up a barstool and takes a seat next to her. He’s close but not too close. “Now, if you were to get one of those cues used for rock stars…”
“You’re too old to be a rock star.”
“Mick Jagger is in his seventies. And anyway, we’re practically the same age.”
“Thirty-five is also old
