‘Did someone on Sons of Anarchy have a heart transplant? I must have missed that episode,’ he said as he stalked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
‘I’ll still be here when you get out, so be modest,’ she called as he closed the door.
Maggie made the bed and opened a window to let out the smell of stale air. Why did men never open windows? She wondered, thinking of Hugh briefly.
Glancing down at the desk, she saw a photograph of an Indian man, surrounded by genuflecting people, all in pink and red robes. She turned it over and read a note from Elliot’s mother, Linda.
Guru Sam says you’re healed now, that he spoke to the Universe and it happened. BE grateful to him, we are fortunate to have him in our lives. Namaste Linda.
Maggie rolled her eyes at the note. It wasn’t Guru Sam that saved Elliot’s life, it was the donor and the doctors, she thought angrily.
Linda had been missing in action for ten years and now she thought she had the right to send Elliot a note telling him to be grateful?
If Maggie was still Elliot’s stepmother, she would tell Will to intercept any communication at all from his first wife, but that wasn’t her role any more.
She moved about the room, picking up dirty clothes. Clearly Elliot wasn’t letting the housekeeper down here to do her job, she thought, as she made neat piles of the books he had been reading. She turned one over in her hand, Scriptwriting for Dummies, the same book as Hugh, she thought briefly and she put it on top of a book on writing your life story. Frowning, she checked the other books, all of them to do with writing of some sort.
Unopened letters from Berkeley sat on the table and Maggie resisted the urge to open them, as she heard the shower turn off.
Grabbing a film magazine from the bedside table, she sat on his made bed and leafed through it casually.
‘Apparently your dad and I were the greatest couple since Liz and Dick,’ she said, holding up the magazine for him to see the shot of her and Will attending the Oscars years before.
‘Yeah, but they didn’t have to listen to the fighting.’ Elliot had pulled on what she hoped was a clean T-shirt and boxer shorts.
‘True,’ said Maggie with a wry smile and she reached down to her handbag. ‘Here,’ she said, and threw a disc at him.
‘What is it?’ he turned it over in his hand.
‘The first cut of the next James Bond. Don’t tell anyone, and don’t share it,’ she said firmly.
Elliot smiled. ‘You don’t always have to bring me presents when you see me, Maggie,’ he said. ‘You brought me so many thing when I was in hospital, I think you brought me thirty presents in all.’
‘A present for every day I saw you,’ she said, trying not to think of that month in Elliot’s life where they didn’t know whether his body would accept the new heart.
Elliot placed the disc down on the desk and she saw him glance at the neat piles of books.
‘Come on then, give me the lecture about how some poor bastard died and gave me his precious heart and how I only have one life to live and that I’m wasting it. And I’ll listen to you and nod, and change for twenty-four hours, and then we can all pretend the lecture worked.’
Maggie stared at him and then frowned. ‘Damn you, no spoilers please. If you knew how this was going to play out, you should have saved me the trip over.’
Elliot shrugged. ‘It’s the same shit I hear from Dad every other day, Mags. Lather, rinse, repeat.’
Maggie said nothing, she just watched him until he held his hands up at her.
‘What do you want me to say? I still feel like shit and I have no idea why I survived and some poor person died.’
‘Have you told the doctors?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s not the heart, the heart is fine, it’s in here,’ he said, tapping his head. ‘I don’t feel myself any more, but I don’t want to anyway, you know? I didn’t much like who I used to be. But I feel different and no one understands. I can’t go back to college; it feels like a waste of time, even though Dad’s freaking out.’
‘How can it be a waste of time when all you do is stay down here every day wasting time?’ she asked.
‘I knew you wouldn’t get it,’ he said and he slumped in the desk chair.
Maggie nodded. ‘I’m sorry, I do get it. I don’t understand what having a new heart feels like, but I get the whole bit about trying to be something or go somewhere without directions or a destination.’
Elliot said nothing, just stared at the floor.
‘Why don’t you leave the house at least? Go and do stuff, whatever it is young people are doing these days.’ Maggie smiled. ‘I mean, I know this place is like living in the Hotel California, with everything you need at your fingertips, but you really need to get out of here. Go see your friends, get drunk, have sex.’
‘Most of my old friends are away at college. And those that are here just want to party, and I can’t party like that,’ he said, looking down at his chest.
‘So you’re friendless, depressed and aimless,’ she said. ‘That sounds normal for Hollywood.’
Elliot tried to raise a smile, but couldn’t. Just the idea of heading out into the world made him anxious.
He felt Maggie staring at him as he ran his fingers through his dark hair.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to be an actor? Zoe would rep you in a heartbeat.’
Elliot gave her a look.
‘Okay, a poor choice of words, I admit, but you know you’re good-looking enough.’
‘Good looks don’t translate into being a decent actor, Maggie, you know this,’ he said wryly.
‘Are you saying I’m an average actor because I’m so beautiful?’ she asked, in mock horror.
‘No, you know you’re both, but how many kids my age want to be actors just because they’re good-looking? It’s insane. Half the girls in my final year at school were making sex tapes and the guys were taking steroids so they could all be famous and hot.’
‘And this is why I weep for the future generation.’ She sighed.
They were silent for a moment and then Elliot found himself saying out loud what he had only admitted to himself.
‘I feel like I’ve been sick for so long, in and out of hospital and stuff, I don’t even know how to live normally.’ He shot her a look. ‘I mean, I’m twenty-three and I’m still a freaking virgin, Maggie. I’m a joke!’
‘Oh, El, you’re so not. Having sex doesn’t make you a grown-up, trust me.’
The room filled with an awkward silence and Maggie took a new tack.
‘If you don’t want to go to college, then what do you want to do?’ She glanced at the books. ‘Writing?’
Elliot laughed meanly. ‘As if Dad will say yes to that. You know what a prick he can be.’
Maggie nodded. ‘I was married to him, remember? But in a perfect world, if you could write, what would it be about?’
Elliot took his eyes off the floor and met hers. ‘I’d like to write a book about what I’ve been through,’ he said slowly. ‘Is that self-indulgent?’
Maggie smiled. Her voice was gentle. ‘Nothing about you is self-indulgent. You’re amazing.’
Elliot laughed. ‘No, I’m not, I just have a few ideas I wouldn’t mind trying to put down. Except I don’t really