| Kendall’s room. Kendall sat on her bed; her back leaned against the brass bedpost. Her eyes were glazed on some insipid television program that she ignored. Model-pretty-Rachel-baby-club excess-vincent-vincent-strom-baby, her thoughts ran so rapidly that she appeared almost catatonic. Kendall’s alarm clock rang but she did not hear it for several seconds, and when she did finally hear it, she jumped up with a gasp and knocked the clock to the floor, cracking the glass. “Damn it,” Kendall said as she picked up the clock and looked at the time. She had set it a half an hour late and upon realizing this, began running erratically around her bedroom, organizing figurines and other childhood heirlooms that had lost their meanings over the years, wiping the dust off of her furniture. Kendall went to an old stereo that she rarely used and pressed play as she walked to mirror behind the bathroom door. Lonely rivers flow To the sea, to the sea To the open arms of the sea Lonely rivers sigh Wait for me, wait for me I'll be coming home Wait for me… She absorbed the words even though she had heard the droning song of the Righteous Brothers countless times before. After a moment, Kendall combed her thin, strawberry-blonde hair as she stared expressionlessly at her reflection. She then stripped to her lace underwear and scrutinized every inch of her stomach. It was still too big. Her breasts were still too small, her eyes too pale, her hair too limp, bad skin, bad teeth, an inch too short, nails could be longer. Why did she eat so grotesquely at lunch? A tear ran down her cheek as she took a notebook out of the dresser-drawer and scribbled something in it. She then crept into the bathroom. “I hope he doesn’t get here before I finish,” she said to herself as she took a deep breath and put two of her fingers in her mouth. Rachel’s Hospital Room. Greg was only a few feet from Rachel but she put a world between them. She could not face him and all of the hurt that he represented for her; and when she finally did all she could see behind his wounds from an obvious accident was his empty room the night that he had left her and their present together, without so much as a word. “I heard about the baby,” he volunteered, after a whole awkward minute had passed. “I’m glad that she’s fine.” “Please go,” Rachel said coldly. “I can’t do that. I told you, I came here to see you. I would have come sooner but I ran into a little car troubled along the way.” Had it been anybody else, Rachel would have laughed a little. She fought against the urge to do just that and also against her instinct, which was to nurse his wounds. She scolded herself internally for being so irresolute. “I’m so sorry about your car Greg, and I appreciate your visit. Now please leave.” “So much for the warm welcome,” he scoffed, inching his way closer. “I can’t believe you’re being such a jerk!” She shrieked. “Don’t come any closer. I don’t want to see you.” He suddenly realized he was being insensitive. “Oh, hey. Look I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t expect to end up in an accident and in the room next door. I didn’t know how else to approach the situation.” Rachel looked up at him with skepticism but her voice softened. “Are you alright? I could call Dr. Fallow if you need her.” “That’s ok. I’d rather not have Jasmine scold me about stressing you out today.” He attempted another step. “Why did you come back here?” She crossed her arms giving Greg an indication not to move any closer. “It’s been a year Rachel,” he struggled. “It killed me to leave you.” “You’re still breathing.” “I know. And I’m sorry that I left things the way I did, but I just couldn’t keep looking at you in the face and lying to you.” “Then you should have told me that you were married.” Rachel controlled her voice, repressing any hint of weakness. “I know I should have,” Greg spoke softly, genuinely trying to make Rachel understand. “Its just, I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.” “I don’t want to hear this,” She shriek cried out. “How could you possibly love me, make me love you and then not even say goodbye? It’s taken me a long time, but my life is perfect right now. I have a baby, my hotel is doing well and I did it all without you. You have no right to come back into my life and feed me these lines.” Rachel realized her outburst and tried to compose herself. She did not want to show Greg any weakness. “I think it would be best if you forgot you ever met me. We would be better off forgetting about our little fling and about everything else.” “I know you well enough to know that you don’t believe that.” “You don’t know anything about me Greg. Anything.” Rachel was infuriated, but knew that he was right. “Go back to your wife. I’m sure she misses you.” “Rachel. Gina and I are divorced.” Lake Harbor Club. Marina and Hunter sat across from each other at the restaurant. Hunter’s Nun’s habit had been cheerfully replaced by a newly purchased, long, ruby cocktail dress with just enough sequins and too much see-through material. Marina, whom had accompanied Hunter on her shopping splurge, wore a more conservative soft green gown that complimented her soft emerald eyes. Hunter took a sip of her water to allow herself a breath between stories. “SO I said to Father Naughton, ‘what am I a camel? Make this tap water turn into Perrier or I’ll build a condo on you.” Marina looked on suspiciously and Hunter laughed entirely too loud. “So how much of that story is true? You have a little habit about embellishing things.” “Embellishing is part of life Marina. If God hadn’t wanted us to embellish, he wouldn’t have invented lingerie.” “They teach you that at the convent?” Marina smirked. “I was only there a week,” Hunter teased back. “Hey,” Marina asked after a comfortable silence. “Thanks for dinner and for the shopping. I feel so guilty. You have to let me spring for dessert or something. Hunter took out her compact. “Don’t be ridiculous Marina. I never go to a restaurant with money, and neither should you.” She put her compact back into her expensive purse and raised her glass to a group of older, distinguished looking men that sat at another table nearby which indicated that they would be paying for dinner. Marina was fascinated, but a little jealous as always, when Hunter gorged the spotlight. “If you’re sure then, because it always fills me with a certain pride to be able to pay for my meals, even with modest means.” “Your mother Lacey owns a newspaper. I would hardly consider that modest means. Besides, loosen up. Men have been keeping us in the kitchen for far too long; and you think it’s right for us to have to pay for dinner also? I’m sorry Marina, but that is entirely too misogynistic for my feminist sensibilities. Hand me a roll would you?” “Ah, I see.” Marina smiled suspiciously, handing Hunter a roll of fresh bread. “Tell me, Hunter. How's that going for you? Being a feminist and a gold-digger? Do you alternate your worldview depending on who you’re dating, or by what you learn from the week’s episode of Sex in the City?” “Let me put it to you this way.” Hunter put her hands on her breasts. “Feminism keeps me out of a bra-unless circumstance calls for it. Gold digging, or as I prefer to call it, enterprising, insures that I only wear Rigby & Peller bras, on such occasions. She looked at Marina who merely rolled her eyes. “ I know, I know, I’m horrible; but seriously, I really do respect your work ethic and your long-hemlines.” “And I totally respect your primeval views on female subjectivity, but cheap, for Rigby & pellers is 112 dollars. Thats 60 dollars a tit. Rediculous” “We’ve been arguing about this since you were in training bras and I was in black velvet. We’re clearly not going to come any closer to a consensus tonight. Let’s just enjoy tonight. Anyway, I’ve been gone too long. Tell me all about everybody’s business. How's Kendall doing? We’ve barely talked on the phone since high school ended.” “I don’t know what's up with her. She never wants to o anywhere or do anything. She's modeling at Myrna’s studio though.” “Good for her. She’s always been a little secretive anyway. AND she never returns your cigarettes. I must have given her a million when we used to smoke out in the bathroom of Lantana High.” “Oh yeah. I remember those days.” “You do not. You were always off uncovering some kind of cafeteria conspiracy... And how’s Rachel? And your mom? “Rachel’s in peril as usual. Just went into labor during a tornado. Mom's retired her famous barroom table dance.” “And how's Jasmine? Have they used the Jaws of Life on that stick in her ass yet?” “Probably not; but she is seeing somebody.” “Oh?” Hunter’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Well who is he?” “Some guy named Vincent Hart. He’s a cop. Cute too.” “Vincent Hart?” Hunter nearly spat water at her friend in her excitement. “He’s no cop. He’s a private detective. I can’t believe he’ in Lantana too.” “How do you know him? Though I can already imagine.” “Imagine no more. I was having an affair with him while I was married to Kevin. Wow, there never seems to be a waiter at this restaurant does there? Lake Harbor Club. Gina Holly sat in a corner carefully observing Marina, whom she did not know, and especially Hunter. Of all the restaurants in Lantana, why did Hunter have to eat at the Lake Harbor Club on the same night that she did? It disturbed Gina how a woman as vile as Hunter could claw her way into the bed of a man (her husband), claw her way to the cover of fashion magazines, kill that man and still be allowed to walk and wear red sequins. She shuddered to think how in the morning, Vogue would be clamoring at the door of her hotel room, praising her “quirky fashion sense,” her “triumphant return from the Puerto Rican convent." She wondered why nobody cared when her, the heir to the Holly newspaper fortune, respected journalist, society woman, was abandoned by her husband Gregory Hathaway, or when she turned to her best friend and photographer, Kevin Fisher for comfort, or when she has abandoned yet again , when he fell in love with a braless teenage viper in plush red leather and high heels. She seared as she remembered how the fashion world sympathized with Hunter when Kevin died tragically in that condo-building accident right after she had rescued him from his “heartless, rich-bitch, wife.” She sneered contemptuously. “She steals my husband, and my money. She sure as Hell won’t invade the restaurant I chose to dine in.” Gina grabbed her fork, and pretending that the rare, wet piece of filet mignon on her plate was Hunter’s augmented breasts, gouged it, making sure that it stuck. She stood up and walked confidently across the room with a calculating look. She approached the table where Hunter was regaling Marina with stories of her various sexual conquests. “Hey Hunter, your nipples are showing...again.” Before Hunter had enough time to realize who it was that was speaking such blasphemy to her, the bloodiest piece of meat that the American Southwest had ever produced made its way from Gina’s fork onto her defenseless, Ruby dress. A crowd of onlookers gathered and gasped as the meat glided almost deliberately down Hunter’s chest, onto her lap and finally on her Gucci shoes. Kendall’s Room. Kendall had finished doing what she best knew how to do. She walked back into her bedroom, having carefully brushed her teeth a few times, and rinsed with red, cinnamon Scope. She felt guilty that she had hurt herself yet again and walked over to the dresser where the mirror was. She was pretty; a part of her knew that. She had lovely blue eyes, hair that flowed, and a beautiful smile that she knew would not last if she continued to make herself throw up. The radio had stopped playing her song and she walked over to it and rewound the tape, throwing on a flimsy white robe. She pressed play and walked over to the mirror once again. This time it took her some time to look at her reflection; it usually did. Kendall took out a comb and a bottle of pills. She drank some of the pills, a few of them were vitamins, and combed her hair. She even sprayed a little perfume on. When she looked into the mirror again, she was determined not to cry and took a deep breath. The loud, clicking noise of the radio indicated that her tape had been rewound. Kendall walked to the radio once again and pressed play. She then walked over to the bed and laid her head on the off-white pillow to await her guest, whom was running late. She seemed almost angelic, her white robe lost in the whiter sheets. Only her eyes seemed to have a shimmer of light. There was a knock at the door as Kendall’s favorite part of the song played. She took another deep breath and opened the door. The song droned, but not ignored in the background. Lonely rivers sigh Wait for me, wait for me I'll be coming home Wait for me Oh, oh my love Oh my darling I've hungered for your touch A long and lonely time. |
| Episode Four. |
| In Episode Three of Tapestry… Murder suspect/supermodel turned ex-nun Hunter Willington Fisher returns to Lantana to seek out her best friend Marina, with her husband’s body in a sage colored coffin. Greg and Rachel come face to face with their past and find a lot of resentment while Vincent discovers that there are secrets behind the walls of the hotel that are never meant to be revealed. |
| Is Kendall expecting another lover? How will Hunter react to Gina’s assault? Who else is making their way to town and why? How will Greg's presence in Lantana alter the lives of several Lantana residents? Find out on the next installment of “Tapestry.” In the meantime, head on over to our forum, take our surveys or interact with the cast and crew. |
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| Kendall Mattson |
| Rachel Mattson |
| Gregory Hathaway |
| Hunter Willington |
| Marina Gavin |
| Gina Holly |
| Kendall Mattson |