Of course I was upset. That was just a tough thing for Maureen to hear. We owned that house free and clear, too. Plenty of kids can’t say that about the roof above their heads. I tried not to let the hurt show on my face. I wanted to protect Maureen. But it was a tough visit. Even with hugs all around just before she left.
And then she was gone.
From: Addison Stone <[email protected]
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Date: Jun 16 at 3:45 AM
Subject: xoxo
To: Lucy Lim <[email protected]
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Lulu, wouldn’t it be great if every day could be like graduation?
Seeing you graduate—you’re done! No more SK!
Bestest day.
I almost felt nostalgia when Dengler-berry hugged me. Almost.
Not really.
She is still such a flippin plastic fake squick.
Whaddaya wanna bet she’s pregnant this time next year?
All the glitter dust faded when we got back to the city.
Lincoln dropped me off, and I wanted him to stay the night and he didn’t …
And after he left, I didn’t want to be alone.
Marie-Claire pulled me out to a party, and wouldn’t you just know it, but Zach was there?
So yes.
In answer to your question. What you’d read about online. It happened.
Only it wasn’t half as bad as they’re making it out to be.
I said stupid things and Zach said worse stupid things.
Cheba tried to throw cold water on it, but I might have had a tiny tantrum.
Wish I hadn’t.
I definitely don’t regret throwing the plate.
Everyone should throw a plate against a wall at least once in a lifetime.
Zach brings out the worst in me.
And I know Lincoln must have heard about what happened.
He won’t answer my texts.
I’m staying in tonight.
No more going out for me for the rest of my life.
Lesson learned.
Sorta.
x!o!
LINCOLN REED: The Rhode Island trip was paradise. We spent the night in Newport. Next day we walked around, strolled over to Green Hall. She took me through how she’d set up Chandelier Girl. We ate at the Black Pearl, then we drove to the beach and watched the sun set. It was a fantasy. It didn’t feel like reality.
And it wasn’t reality. The reality was, I had no room for Addison charging back into my life at warp speed. I was starting something new, a pretty ambitious piece. At the time I vaguely knew it was going to be about urban planning. I’d put up these blow-up maps and aerial views all over my place. That was where my brain was pounding 24/7.
I couldn’t have Addison living with me again. Not with all the dreck that blew in with her. Her mess and her fits, her friends and her late nights. And of course there was the Gil Cheba factor. He was a package deal with Addison those days, and if I suspected I couldn’t live with Addison right then, I knew I couldn’t live with Gil.
That night, after we got back from South Kingstown, I wanted to get home and work. She said that she had work, too. Then Cheba stopped over, and convinced her to head out to some stupid party. The next day, I learned she and Zach had been in a public brawl. It just felt like—okay, here we go again. I was really disappointed.
Zach was a sore spot, always. I didn’t need the slings and arrows of seeing their names linked in the press. No way. All I’d wanted was some distance from everything that happened between us.
Addison’s bright lights kept leading me back to her. I was crazy to be around her. Especially after South Kingstown. I remember looking over at her, in that giant hat, that giant smile, her huge sunnies that I always teased made her look like a fly, and thinking, That’s the most deliriously wonderful girl I’ve ever known. I love her. I can’t get enough of her. But I couldn’t rescue her. And I felt like the effort had flattened me.
JACK FROEK: “Zach Spat”—that was the headline. Yeah, I was there. Addison Stone was supercharged to the sun that night. She threw more than one plate. She must have thrown six or seven, and some champagne glasses besides. She and Zach destroyed that club.
I hadn’t seen Addison in months, not since New Year’s Eve. She’d changed. No more elfin girl in the aluminum dress. No more free spirit. The Addison I saw that night was kinetic, uncontrolled energy, and all that anger she had for Zach made her act like him. That night, they were two narcissists fighting for the spotlight. Two spoiled children throwing toys.
DR. EVELYN TUTTENBAUER: June 25th. It’s in my datebook. A Monday. And the very first phone appointment that she ever missed. Of course I tried to reschedule. I tried very hard. It’d be a violation of my Hippocratic Oath not to have done everything I could at the point when I thought my patient was in crisis.
DR. ROLAND JONES: Addison was very, very good at hiding her illness. She pretended she was swamped with work. She left me long messages where she helpfully suggested multiple times to reschedule our meeting. It would be another ten days before warning bells went off for me. Unfortunately. I think if I hadn’t been so hoodwinked, I’d have intervened a lot quicker.
ZACH FRATEPIETRO: Max Berger was making money off Addison. He promised my mother a first look at her next work if she would put a gag order on me. Berger thought her preoccupation with me was getting in the way of her productivity. And so did my mother, apparently.
Did you know, after Addison’s and my dust-up, that I was summoned to the house? By my own mother? With her personal assistant present, and my father on speakerphone from Tuscany?
“Happy to do it,” I told her. “I’m happy to leave Addison alone. I’m in another relationship.”
So irritating. They made me feel like I was twelve years old. I didn’t want to be involved at all in this idea that I should have a parental restraining order. It was unprofessional, for one thing. And I just didn’t want to have that conversation.
CARINE FRATEPIETRO: Again, I must clarify that my lawyers have asked me not to touch too long on this subject. But yes, of course I hoped that the absurdity between Addison and Zach would fall into the bottom of meaninglessness.
Addison’s talent was pushing so hard to the surface. I’d been hearing about this piece called Bridge Kiss. Berger sent me a .zip file of images she’d sent of her studies. The faces and forms were no longer traditional representation, and the subject was no longer concrete. The bridge was so dense yet fragmented, the human subjects were fragile yet solid. It was intuitive and thoughtful, nuanced and skilled. She was becoming everything Coulsen had said she couldn’t become.