Everything’s fine.”
“I know it’s not, Mac, so c’mon,” he pressed. “Talk to me, alright? Besides, it ain’t like I’ve never dragged you out of bed at all hours of the night, only in my case I was drunk and stupid, not mixed up and in trouble…”
She hiccupped a giggle.
“Now don’t make me hop a redeye out there and browbeat it outta you in person, because you know I will. Just try to calm down and talk to me, Mac. I’ve got nothin’ but time, and it’s all yours. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it. I promise.”
In the three and a half hours that followed, Mac proceeded to unload everything on him, starting with the fight at the club then chronicling each and every exhaustive element of her embattled life—from her constant dealings with obnoxious musicians, to her inability to escape the service industry, to the hypocrisy of the record business, and culminating with the complete and utter state of loneliness which she now found herself. Throughout the conversation, Lee was mostly silent—opting instead to listen patiently and let her get it all out, though occasionally reassuring her that he understood why she was so down and offering an uplifting compliment or a show of confidence in her where he could.
Once the call finally came to a close, and Mac had eluded sleep as long as she could, Lee hung up the phone and lamented the fact that he couldn’t be there for her in person. He’d known Mac long enough to know that by her very nature, she was a doer, and doers hate losing control. When faced with a problem, Mac would work herself into a virtual frenzy to fix it or drive herself nuts in the process. She couldn’t help it; it’s just who she was. Only in this case, no amount of hard work or dedication would bring her the answers she was looking for.
It also wasn’t lost on Lee just how much pride she’d swallowed to call him that night. Mac was always the first one in line to help someone in need but when the time came for her to be that person, it took a meltdown the size of a nuclear reactor to get her to speak up. Then again, it takes one to know one in the pride department and if his own set of demons at the time was any indication, he knew he couldn’t fault her much there.
In the end, he wasn’t sure if their talk had done any good. He only hoped that if Mac had taken anything away from their conversation it was that—no matter the circumstance or the hour—she could always “call home” when she needed, just like Greg Allman had said.
Much to Lee’s delight, that would be the first of many calls between the two over the next year; some angry vent sessions as the first had been, while others were more of the casual “What’s up?” variety. Still, regardless of the nature of the call or how busy he was when it came, it was just always nice to hear from her, and after a while it began to dawn on Lee just how true that was. Granted, the two had been close from the beginning, but their relationship had always been defined within the context of the group. However that was changing now and he, for one, was okay with that.
After several agonizing months of weighing the pros and cons of sticking it out in L.A. versus returning home, Mac finally managed to set aside her pride long enough to make three calls; one to her parents, alerting them to her decision; one to a children’s charity about her furniture and TV; then a third to a cabbie for a one-way trip to LAX airport.
Several hours later on the drive to the McKinsey house, Lee observed Mac’s quiet stare through the passenger-side window of his Jeep and tried his best to understand what she was thinking. It went without saying that the choice to leave L.A. had been a tough one for her, but he wondered if anyone (himself included) would ever truly understand the bitter taste of that decision. In coming home, Mac had effectively abandoned everything she’d spent her adult life working to build, and Lee couldn’t
“I know it’s not, Mac, so c’mon,” he pressed. “Talk to me, alright? Besides, it ain’t like I’ve never dragged you out of bed at all hours of the night, only in my case I was drunk and stupid, not mixed up and in trouble…”
She hiccupped a giggle.
“Now don’t make me hop a redeye out there and browbeat it outta you in person, because you know I will. Just try to calm down and talk to me, Mac. I’ve got nothin’ but time, and it’s all yours. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it. I promise.”
In the three and a half hours that followed, Mac proceeded to unload everything on him, starting with the fight at the club then chronicling each and every exhaustive element of her embattled life—from her constant dealings with obnoxious musicians, to her inability to escape the service industry, to the hypocrisy of the record business, and culminating with the complete and utter state of loneliness which she now found herself. Throughout the conversation, Lee was mostly silent—opting instead to listen patiently and let her get it all out, though occasionally reassuring her that he understood why she was so down and offering an uplifting compliment or a show of confidence in her where he could.
Once the call finally came to a close, and Mac had eluded sleep as long as she could, Lee hung up the phone and lamented the fact that he couldn’t be there for her in person. He’d known Mac long enough to know that by her very nature, she was a doer, and doers hate losing control. When faced with a problem, Mac would work herself into a virtual frenzy to fix it or drive herself nuts in the process. She couldn’t help it; it’s just who she was. Only in this case, no amount of hard work or dedication would bring her the answers she was looking for.
It also wasn’t lost on Lee just how much pride she’d swallowed to call him that night. Mac was always the first one in line to help someone in need but when the time came for her to be that person, it took a meltdown the size of a nuclear reactor to get her to speak up. Then again, it takes one to know one in the pride department and if his own set of demons at the time was any indication, he knew he couldn’t fault her much there.
In the end, he wasn’t sure if their talk had done any good. He only hoped that if Mac had taken anything away from their conversation it was that—no matter the circumstance or the hour—she could always “call home” when she needed, just like Greg Allman had said.
Much to Lee’s delight, that would be the first of many calls between the two over the next year; some angry vent sessions as the first had been, while others were more of the casual “What’s up?” variety. Still, regardless of the nature of the call or how busy he was when it came, it was just always nice to hear from her, and after a while it began to dawn on Lee just how true that was. Granted, the two had been close from the beginning, but their relationship had always been defined within the context of the group. However that was changing now and he, for one, was okay with that.
After several agonizing months of weighing the pros and cons of sticking it out in L.A. versus returning home, Mac finally managed to set aside her pride long enough to make three calls; one to her parents, alerting them to her decision; one to a children’s charity about her furniture and TV; then a third to a cabbie for a one-way trip to LAX airport.
Several hours later on the drive to the McKinsey house, Lee observed Mac’s quiet stare through the passenger-side window of his Jeep and tried his best to understand what she was thinking. It went without saying that the choice to leave L.A. had been a tough one for her, but he wondered if anyone (himself included) would ever truly understand the bitter taste of that decision. In coming home, Mac had effectively abandoned everything she’d spent her adult life working to build, and Lee couldn’t
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