You've Been Warned

Penley is going to be gone all day at some fancy-schmancy kitchen tour out in South Hampton—so she says, anyway—so instead of taking the kids to school, I call there to say they have the flu, and then we play hooky.

I really feel that Dakota and Sean need this. Especially Dakota. And so do I.

First things first, we have a total pig-out breakfast at Sarabeth’s, our favorite restaurant in all of New York. Blueberry and chocolate-chip pancakes, with loads of syrup, for everybody. Then we head off to Central Park with only one purpose in mind: to get absolutely filthy dirty, to be real kids for a change, to have a blast.

For three hours, we run and jump and scream our brains out, play tag, play catch, play keep-away, and I don’t have a single crazy thought, don’t smell anything bad, don’t even see any dead people.

We end up at a little concrete playground with swings and slides, and Dakota and Sean are grimy dirty—which I love, and they love too. In fact, I’ve never seen such big smiles on either of their faces.

Of course, I have to take photographs of the kids. Dozens and dozens of beautiful shots. So cute, so picture-perfect.

And then—disaster strikes!

Sean catches his bright red Keds sneaker on the ladder at the top of the slide, and he literally goes head over heels. I watch and I can’t believe what I’m seeing as he tumbles way too fast, then hits the pavement with his face. I swear to God, with his forehead.

Ten minutes later, we’re at the emergency room at Lenox Hill, and amazingly, miraculously, Sean is totally okay and doesn’t even need a stitch. He even gets a lollipop, and so does Dakota.

It’s quiet in the cab from Lenox Hill going home, and then Dakota leans into me and puts her head on my shoulder. I wish I could take a picture of the two of us.

“It’s all right, Miss Kristin. It’s all right,” she says. “We won’t tell.”

“Promise,” says Sean. “We won’t tell. We love you, Miss Kristin.”

And I love these kids so much.

I just love Dakota and Sean to death. Who wouldn’t?

I also feel guilty, and I don’t know how to get away from that. Not about playing hooky for one stupid day, which was great—but about everything else.

And I mean everything else.

Chapter 75

HELL, I SHOULD JUST TOSS my alarm clock out the window. What’s that joke Sean likes to tell? About seeing time fly?

Really, what’s the point of an alarm clock when I’ve got this dreaded dream to wake me every morning? I get the feeling it’s going to be with me for an awfully long time. Like forever.

Same for all the other bizarre stuff filling my days. And all I can do is wonder, Can I really handle this?

Can I get on with my life, such as it is?

Damn it, I’m going to try. With a little help from my friends.

Beth and Connie conference call me on my cell phone minutes after I drop off Dakota and Sean at school. They want to take me to lunch and won’t take no for an answer.

Of course, what they really want to do is see if I’m okay or completely mashed potatoes. The social worker in Connie undoubtedly has her hyperconcerned after my surprise sleepover-cum-meltdown at her apartment. Naturally, Beth heard all about it.

Imagine if I tell them everything that’s occurred since.

Only that’s not going to happen.

That monster Delmonico has me scared silent. About everything. I can still feel his grip on my neck, the look in his eyes.

Anyway, it’s with an “all’s well” attitude that I walk into the Comfort Diner—how fitting—on 45th Street between Second and Third. Connie and Beth are already seated at a table by the window, and I make sure to greet them with a healthy smile.

Unfortunately, the rest of my body didn’t get the memo.

“You look like shit, Kris,” says Beth almost immediately.

Connie rolls her eyes while I enjoy a much-needed laugh. There’s blunt, and then there’s Beth. No wonder she has such a hard time finding acting work. She once told Martin Scorsese that he needed to “trim those caterpillars” above his eyes.

“You do look a bit tired, Kristin,” says Connie, trying to be a little more diplomatic and gentle. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“I certainly got plenty at your place the other night,” I say.

“Until you woke up screaming like my apartment was in a wing at Bellevue,” she points out.

As if I need to be reminded.

“Have you been to see a doctor?” asks Beth. “Maybe you’ve got a virus.”

“And what about seeing your psychiatrist again?” says Connie in tow. “Have you given that any more thought?”

Call me crazy, but I think I’m done with psychiatrists.

I look at the two of them, their faces full of genuine concern. “Listen, I know you guys are trying to help and I appreciate it, I really do. But right now, the best thing for me is to have a fun lunch with my girlfriends. Can we do that? You think?”