Truth & Beauty by Ann Patchett

Author:Ann Patchett [Patchett, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Biography & Autobiography
ISBN: 9780061754814
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-13T05:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Ten

"COME OVER," LUCY SAID, AS IF I LIVED DOWN THE street. "I'm going to be on the Today show and I don't have anything to wear."

I had never seen what fame looked like up close. I had met a few people who had had it for a while, who had already figured out a comfortable way to wear the suit and make it look smart, but I had never seen it gearing up before or heard the rumble of the machinery that made the wave. I had also never really thought about how abundantly prepared Lucy was to be famous. It was as if the part was written for her. Of course. Now instead of everyone thinking they knew her, they actually would in a sense. She would be recognized not just for her face but for her work. She would land a sea of invitations. There would be possibilities to do interesting things and have heated conversations and drink champagne and be on television and never, never be alone again. It made such perfect sense I couldn't believe that there had been so many years when she hadn't been famous.

But god damn it, I want to be famous, I'm determined. That's the great thing about writing, as a lifestyle I mean. You can be real down and out but still have some sort of dignity -- if you do keep writing that is. Okay, that's it; I'm stopping this letter right now to get some writing done. I love you.

"What does one wear on television?" Lucy said, pushing through her closet.

I started picking up little balls of clothing off the floor and shaking them out. "Can you at least tell me what's clean and what's dirty so I don't have to start sniffing at things?"

She looked suspiciously at the cardigan I was holding. "Dirty," she said.

I edged inside the closet and began kicking the contents of the floor into the kitchen.

"Don't bring out everything!" Lucy said.

"How else will we have any idea what you have?" I sat down in a pile of crushed fabric and started going through the dresses. Lucy and I, it has already been established, differed in matters of housekeeping and we entered the whole thing with a stand of no judgment, no blame. I wanted to clean out her closet; she wanted me to clean out her closet. Neither of us pretended it was otherwise.

There was a vast collection of unwashed thrift-store dresses with tiny waists and sweetheart necklines, checks and plaids and sentimental flowers, but every one had a stain or a tear or a hanging hem, and while I could sew, I couldn't imagine bringing anything up to the standards of television. Lucy rarely wore the dresses anyway. She bought them for the sheer pleasure she took in knowing that no one else could fit into them. Lucy looked good in jeans, but jeans would not save the day. I told her we were going to Barney's.

"I'm not going to Barney's.

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