What Happened to Julia D.

The name Julia D is uttered a dozen times a day in a hundred different cities, but usually for the same reason. A husband sits by his wife on the couch in the suburbs of Seattle, arm draped over her shoulder as they show their begrudging kids an old movie. “This one was my favorite when I was your age.” As the movie plays, sometime before the third-act miscommunication occurs, the husband will lean into his wife and ask something like, “I wonder what Julia D looks like now?” Maybe instead the wife will be the one to turn and say “Remember when Julia D dated that kid from ‘Raise a Toast?’” The couple whispers this all as one switches tabs on their phone to make the search. They only get so far as “What happened to jul-“before it autofills with the rest. Married. Peter Haywood. Thirty-one. Four kids. Tommy. Callie. Stella. Delaney. Last acting credit- 2012. “Can I have some popcorn?” The phone goes down, and she’s forgotten with it.

Across the country in Ironwood, Mississippi, Diana Haywood is driving home from a long day of haircuts and small talk. As she turns left on Main Street, she can’t help but squirm in her seat thinking about the walk up her front porch steps. Inside, Peter will sit legs-spread at the kitchen table, eyes locked on her as she beelines to the fridge and throws her bag on the ground. Stella will be coloring beside him and Delaney in her highchair. As she lets yesterday’s casserole revive itself in the microwave, Tommy and Callie will run inside, somehow out of breath but overflowing with energy still. They’ll all watch and wait until they pounce and scatter. Turning the corner into the driveway, Diana can’t help but hope today will be different. She prays in the driver’s seat of her 2011 Subaru that she can find gratitude in the little things as she curses herself all the way to the front-door. Inside, Peter sits at the kitchen table with Stella engrossed in her artwork beside him, Delaney babbling and drooling all over her new collared shirt.

Diana wakes to a smiling toddler leering over her bedside. She tumbles out of bed with both hands rubbing her eyelids before crescendoing in an arch above her head. She follows her daughter’s path to the kitchen to make cereal. To the bathroom to braid her hair. To the top bunk to wake “Baba.” To the other room to feed “Dede.” To wake Stella sleeping across the room. To the bathroom to braid her hair. To the kitchen to make cereal. To the door. To the school. To the salon. To the backdoor.

Diana inhales. She reaches in the pocket of her bag to grab a small pouch. After fiddling with the zipper halfheartedly, she pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. She exhales. She checks the time. Fifteen until Mrs. Janie is supposed to arrive which means Diana is already five minutes late to greet her.

“Hi Mrs. Janie”

Within seconds, she is wrapped in an enthusiastic hug, clenched tightly to her bosom.

“Hello Diana! It’s just so good to see you! Those pants are just so flattering on you- and the new hair is very mature!”

Diana smiles a polite smile, says a brief thank you and begins to color Mrs. Janie’s hair as Mrs. Janie complains about her gray roots and compliments Diana’s natural red color.

“Just give me what you have.” Mrs. Janie laughs with her whole body.

“Let me tell you, Peter is such a gifted speaker. His sermon on Sunday was just magnificent.”

“Thanks Mrs. Janie. Really don’t know what we would do without you and Rodger. I mean, Peter’s gotta have learned his sermon tricks from someone.”

Mrs. Janie finds this hysterical, and Diana waits until she composes herself to attend to her dead ends. Small talk of Peter’s great work and God’s divine will is intertwined with goodhearted gossip about what to do with Macy Hummel’s out of control second-grader and Ada Thompson’s quick wedding to baby turnaround despite both Diana and Mrs. Janie having miraculous honeymoon conceptions themselves.

As Mrs. Janie waves her goodbyes, Hughie comes literally knocking on her door and lets himself in. After a polite apology for the late notice, he looks up at Diana, his eyes beady and his smile greedy. They chat through lunch about what Peter and the kids have been up to, and she promises to tell Peter hello for him before falling into the chair, scissors still in loose in hand.

The ceiling still has a water stain, Diana notices before rising yet again with a smile painted on her face. She checks her list for her post-lunch appointments, praying a good prayer that she doesn’t have an appointment until two. Her luck has not changed. She rises to her feet and calls out for Spencer. From behind her, a man shyly creeps from the behind the back door. To her surprise, this was not Spencer Young, but rather a man she couldn’t place. He was distinctly tall, with pale skin dotted with freckles. Thining red hair topped his shiny head, his glasses were foggy and his suit appeared almost dusty. As he approached Diana, he seemed to be almost dreading it, delighted. Diana was stumped, trying to place him.

“Spencer, right?”

From his childlike surprise, Diana felt relief. She hadn’t forgotten this man. She didn’t know him.

“You can take a seat here. What were we thinking today?”

Spencer’s chin rose to meet Diana’s. His eyes were second to rise. They sat there, dormant, still. Diana giggled and Spencer echoed the sentiment, eyes locked and face flushed.

“A trim?”

Spencer nodded like he was being pulled by wires to his skull. This was very odd to Diana. While she felt uneasy, she still didn’t feel wary. She attempted to read this man’s mind and snipped away at the few hairs on his head. In silence they remained, except for the hum of country twang dull in the background and the thoughts swirling in Diana’s mind.

“I’m sorry, but you’re Julia D.”

Diana paused only briefly. You can hardly expect a woman to continue in confidence when she hasn’t been recognized for the first time by someone in many years. Her stint of fame had long passed through town gossip and was just a simple fact in people’s minds in Ironwood now. So, Diana paused briefly, but what do you do when you don’t know what to do, so she did what she did know, which was to keep cutting. Snip. A clump of hair fell to the ground. A nervous giggle this time, paired with a smile.

“Yes, that’s me. I usually just go by Diana now.”

“Yea, I know.”

“So,” Diana began to snip faster, “What brings you to town?”

“You, Julia.”

This time Diana put the scissors on the counter and hands to her hips. Her eyes darted quickly across the room before assessing that her co-workers had left her alone for lunch.

“I’m a really big fan, and I’ve always wanted to meet you. Really, thank you for your time. This is a dream. I mean, you are a dream.”

Another brief pause of uncertainty later, and Diana finished the trim in a silence that’s echo-filled.

That evening, Diana arrived home early despite leaving the salon at the same time on the dot. She made dinner, but not small talk. Her children sat in awe of their mother, cooking in silence, not uttering a word about their muddy shoes or asking what they would like to drink. Peter arrived home late despite it being a Monday. While he may have noticed the silence that permeated his home, he did not comment. Rather he ate his dinner by fencing his chicken, asking meandering questions of her day in spite of the silence.

“It was good.” She paused. “Oh-Hughie came by. He says hello.”

“Oh that’s nice of him. Next time you see him, tell him that he was right-we should play less hymns up in youth.”

Peter smiled as if he told a joke. Diana returned a smile, taught at the corners. An awkward chuckle spewed from Peter’s lungs.

“What did you do today Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged while blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk.

“Quit playing with your food. I asked you a question.”

“Nothing.”

Tommy hung his head so low that his nose was almost painted with his mashed potatoes.

“Tommy, did you breathe today? That’s definitely something, and it’s an awesome thing.”

“I went to school. I hate the bus. Why am I the only kid that rides the bus?”

Tommy’s fists were curled around his fork as he shoved a chicken nugget in between his teeth. Diana begins one by one to clear the dishes from the table, scrubbing them each gently in the sink.

“Chew with you mouth shut. Well Tommy, you aren’t the only kid who rides the bus.”

Peter smiles as he looks at Callie.

“That would be one empty bus.”

Callie giggles at this joke, hand over mouth.

“Shut up Callie!”

The moment the words dart from Tommy’s lips the room is thrown into chaos. Eyes wide and face rigid with rage, Peter roars as loud as his brassy voice allows.

“Go to your room!”

Tommy has succumbed to a blubbering mess, all the manhood he shortly possessed, extinguished to reveal the beating heart of a little boy now exposed in ultra 4k to his father towering over him in fury. He mutters out bits of apologizes, too frightened and ashamed to find full sentences.

“Now!”

Tommy whips around the corner to his bedroom as Callie begins to whimper and Delaney wails. Peter bows his head, asking for patience and understanding, each word mechanic and strained. As Peter fiddles with the buckles on his belt, his neck switches towards the sink where Diana stands awaiting.

“This is why I asked you to work less shifts. He’s the only boy without a mom to pick him up and why?”

Peter yanks at his belt, removing it one loop at a time until it is now firmly gripped in his left hand. He shakes it a little as if to make sure it still cracks the air. He points at Callie between her eyes.

“Go help your mother with the dishes.”

As Peter marches down the hall, Callie toddles to her step stool and grabs a rag from the drawer. Diana notices the spoon in her hand has already collected a small pool of water from her eyes and places it by the drain. She dries her eyes with her blouse and takes Callie by the shoulders off the stool. Diana envelopes Callie in a hug before telling her to go play in her room. She removes Delaney from her highchair. She rocks her to sleep. She places her in her crib. Washes the dishes. Dries the dishes. Puts them each away. Removes her makeup. Takes a shower. Accepts the apology. Kisses him. Holds him. Lights out. Then, she can’t help but think of the peculiar man who calls her by the name of her memory.

The next morning, Diana arrived to work early to find Spencer waiting at the foot of the door. He smiled at her. Diana knew that she could tell him to leave. She could tell him that she was calling the cops. She could tell him her husband was going to come and beat him to a pulp. But, Diana didn’t say these things. Instead, Diana invited Spencer to take a seat. She thought to herself that to build her case, she needed more details, so she would trim his beard.

“What’s your last name Spencer?”

“Bush. I’d ask you yours but-“ Spencer grinned and looked back at the floor where his eyes previously seemed stuck to.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m originally from outside of Boston, but I’ve spent the past thirteen or so years outside of LA.”

The pause was loud.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from LA too.”

“I thought you were from Fresno.”

“I don’t really remember much about Fresno.”

Diana leaned into Spencer’s face to get a closer look at what she was working with before sniping each hair, one at a time. Snip. Snip.

“My parents moved with me to LA when I was just eight for the pilot, and then I never left until I moved here.”

Snip. Snip. Diana looked around the room as she worked tediously on the thinning beard of Spencer Bush, his face gripped in her hands as his eyes looked tenderly towards hers.

“So,” Diana crooned, “I know you know all about me. Tell me something about you.”

Spencer’s face flushed bloody red and a smile took over the latter half.

“Well, My name is Spencer Bush. I’m moved to LA from Boston cause I’ve always really liked LA. It’s where Take Your Time was set. You know I watch TYT every night? I have since I was twelve. I really think that that’s the thing that got me through my parent’s divorce. What else…?”

Julia’s phone began to buzz, but she turned it mute, face down on the table as if to make sure the next words were truly heard.

“Spencer, I’ve never had a fan come all the way down here.”

“Anything for you. After I moved to Los Angeles, I was a little lonely. That’s when I would watch reruns at night, and that’s when I fell in love with you. I mean, you’re so spunky and kind. You don’t take shit, but you aren’t a bitch either.”

Spencer laughed one of those laughs that sounds a bit like car struggling to start. Julia wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Well Spencer, you’re all good to go now.”

As Spencer said his goodbyes, Julia thought to herself that she would go to the police that night.

The fall had vanished into the winter and the weather was finally beginning to drop below 65 degrees. Spencer moved into a motel downtown and became a regular customer each Tuesday evening. Each evening as shop began to close, she would sit him down, and they would talk about life. The conversation was pointed, without straying much from the same few topics. Julia would ask about Spencer, pretending she cared to know more. Maybe she did. She asked about his family, his work, his life. Mainly, however, Spencer had a list of questions for Diana. He told her that he was a moderator of her online community. He collected all the questions he could ask her from her other fans. Julia offered to answer them directly, but Spencer told her not to worry about it. He told her she was busy and had important things to do. He told her that she shouldn’t have to worry about little things. He told her she was lovely. He told her she was perfect.

For Diana, these conversations became part of her routine. Wake up. Go to work. Have lunch. Work. Talk with Spencer. Go to bed. For the first time in a long time, Julia felt free. Each session became longer than the last and each night grew later into darkness. At some point, Julia forgot to be frightened. In turn, she felt exposed. She could be seen.

It was cold for Mississippi this evening. Julia waited by the door for Spencer’s arrival. At the sight of him walking from his car, face flushed and hat covering the tips of his elephant ears, Julia couldn’t help but smile a giddy girl-like smile. She leaped to grab him by the arm and led him inside. She removed his hat, but he insisted that he handle it instead. She began to shave his face, light and warm.

“What’s it today?”

Julia worked carefully to make the process as tedious as possible, but today she felt too young to know anything of patience. As they talked about the season four finale, she flew around him, waving her blade like a wand to make him fresh and new. She was in such a state of joy that it’s no wonder she didn’t notice how he shook his knee so rapidly that evening. Nor did she notice the way he wasn’t smiling with every tooth. In her hurry, she found herself at a record-breaking shaving time. No worries, they were friends. They could just chat after. Embarrassed for her speed, she pulled up a chair with cheeks to match his. Not a breath could have been found between each of her thoughts for the past hour as she chatted away until-

“Jules…can I ask you a big question tonight?”

Julia was taken aback by the sincerity in his voice and the earnestness in his eyes. Her voice switched from that of a bird to that of a woman.

“Yes, Spencer. Of course.”

“Why are you with Peter?”

“We met at the season seven wrap party. His uncle, Wally, was the accountant for the show. I guess I just loved that he had no clue who I was. He walked up to me and asked me what my name was and that was that.”

All the joy had been sucked from the air. Julia broke eye contact first. Spencer cleared his throat.

“Yes. I know. But why Jules?”

Julia looked back into his eyes, her brows furrowed to a point and lips downturned as if they were painted on.

“Peter and I hooked up that night. He wanted to do right by me and proposed. I loved him. He loved me. We got married, and he took me as far away as I wanted to go from everything.”

Spencer let out a sigh and opened his mouth only to be cut short.

“He’s my husband.”

“But you don’t love him. True love is following someone to their study abroad to ask them to the prom. It’s standing in the rain in front of a house. Peter doesn’t love you. He was jealous of your attention. He removed you from your fans, you life! You’ve told me how he doesn’t appreciate you. How he isn’t a fan of yours, he just expects you. You! You are Julia D. You should be cherished, loved, adored. I adore you. So many people adore you. Why are you with him?”

His voice passed the four cement walls of the four person barber shop in Ironwood, Mississippi. Julia couldn’t see more than a distant blur of his shape through the tears in her eyes. As she desperately wiped them away on her blouse, she threw her body into the palms of her hands before stretching her fingers far into her scalp. Finally, they came to a close around her trembling lips.

“He’s my husband. Spencer.”

This time it was a whisper and her face had relaxed into putty. In an instant, they were intertwined on the floor. Who’s to say how it began. All that is known is that Julia felt that he loved her. She felt seen. She felt.

As Julia arrived in the driveway, she rehearsed her lines in her head again and again and again and again. She walked inside and threw her bag on the ground before heading into the kitchen where Peter sat waiting, legs spread. Something about the look in her eyes, the way the corners of her eyes were soft, made Peter’s body lose its rigidity. Julia crossed her arms at the end of the hall as the sun set behind Peter’s frown. This frown somehow made him seem young. It was genuine.

“Diana. What’s going on?”

Peter’s hair is turning gray, she noticed. He exhaled, rigid and long.

“Diana. I need you to tell me what’s going on. The kids are at the Shepard’s. I am asking you, please.”

His hair used to be brown and while she had noticed it was not anymore, she never really thought of how it was gray. His hairline has been different for a while, but she had never taken the time to see how it was thin and reflective at the top of his skull.

“I’m not happy,” she said.

Peter sat, hands frozen rubbing his face. As soon as Peter’s anger began to etch itself on his face, Diana rose, swift and floated towards the door. The sounds of Peter’s cries echoing in her peripheral.

The rush propelled her to the motel and to the doorstep. She found herself yet again entangled with Spencer. Under the covers. On top. Screaming boldy. Smiling loud. He cried and she held him.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

They lay in the night, him snoring rhythmically beside her as she lay on her side, wrapped tight in his arms. She stared at the stain on the carpet and wondered where it came from. Julia had always loved motels since she was a little girl, but she wondered how she had never been to the only one in this town. The thought made her sick. She smiled.

In the morning, they decided to leave town. In the hurry, Julia had only remembered the clothes on her back. As she rolled to the edge of the bed and slipped on her socks, she felt the bristles of new stubble on her neck.

“Could you put your hair in two braids today instead of one Julia?”

Julia nodded, gave him a quick kiss on the shoulder and walked into the bathroom. As she twisted her hair into two braids, she ran the sink to get the water warm. It was frigid, so she put her clothes from the day before on as well.

“Hey Spencer,” she hollered through the door, “before we leave town, can we stop and get me some more clothes?”

Julia finished tying off her braids as she listened into the silence. With a sigh, she opened the door to reveal Spencer lying peacefully on his back, eyes shut and head empty. As the sun rose, it made his hair almost glow and his skin appear illuminated. It was perfect. Julia sighed contently and grabbed Spencer’s phone from his nightstand to capture this perfect moment on this perfect day. There. Perfect. She snapped the picture and grew delighted at the thought of Spencer’s reaction when he found it. Just one picture wasn’t enough, so Julia decided to take a selfie, commemorate them together for the first time. As she did, a notification appeared on his phone from the fan-club he told her so much about. This was the moment Julia had waited for, the perfect gift she could give him.

She opened the page to post the news, to give him bragging rights of the century. After all, he had been so careful to keep her privacy a priority. But, this was over now. She wanted to do this for him. As the page loaded, the first image to appear was of Julia. It was Julia at thirteen years old, photoshopped naked on the beach. Julia was stunned. She stood petrified and silent, scared to move or breath. Scared of comfort. Scared of herself. The only thing she could do was keep staring, so she did. She scrolled to find her at fourteen, fifteen, twenty-two, eleven. She was naked or in tight clothing. Her body exposed in swimsuits or “booby tops.” The threads were titled. Julia D Good Boobs. Julia D Ass. Julia D I Want to do Her.

Page Owner: Spence307TBush

Julia threw the phone to the ground. Stoic she sat before swiftly she left. She grabbed her bag and with the water still running, Julia D walked outside. Her feet were cold, her hair in two braids. She lit a cigarette and began to cry.