Page 9 of Spit Screen

“Oh shit,” Christie says. “It’s a series?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think Addison wants to move back to LA?”

“I think we both miss home.”

“You are home, Em.”

I chuckle uncomfortably. “We are, and I love it here. We all do. Lately, I feel like Dorothy in Oz instead of Emmie in Kansas.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. It’s nice to be Emmie. But there aren’t people here who I can talk to about?—”

“About what makes you tick,” Christie guesses.

“What makes me tick beyond the kids.”

“So, is it Addy who wants to move?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. I chuckle again. “Noah will be in preschool in the fall, Chris. Hecango full days. And to be honest, I think he should. The girls will both be in school full-time. He loves me, but he’s happiest with other children. What do I do with my days?”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Christie asks.

I laugh. It is ironic. When we came to Kansas, Tam and Sandra had both just learned they were pregnant. They both imagined us raising our kids like cousins—one big family. We’ve done our best to remain close—to keep our kids close, but it’s not the same as living a car ride away from each other. I’m confident Addy’s thoughts run along the same line as mine. We’re both contemplating coming back together, and Tam and Christie are about to move across the country.

“I suppose it is,” I admit. “I hope you realize I’m happy for you?”

“I know,” Christie replies. “You’ll figure it out, Emma. You and Addy always do.”

“I hope so.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you worried Addy won’t want to move now that Tam and I need to relocate?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, you could occupy the house again while we’re in Boston.”

“At this rate, we should make that house into a commune,” I say.

Christie laughs. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Communal living? Given the obsession for Kool-Aid our wives and kids have, I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

I burst out laughing. Christie and I have been friends for twenty years. She gets me, and I get her. And that goes far beyond the common ground we share as actors.

“You can see it, can’t you?” Christie asks. “Tam sitting in front of the pool with big sunglasses. Addison is passing the Kool-Aid around.”

The Jim Jones reference is wholly inappropriate and exactly my brand of humor—something only those closest to me understand. “It would make a great spoof,” I say. “LikeScary Movie, only done cult style.”

Christie laughs so hard she snorts. “Who is the writer in your family?” she teases me.

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