Cupcakes and Scrapbooks

I didn’t sleep last night, but hadn’t really expected to. I had the same thoughts swirling around my head over and over and over. My eyes felt as though they had dried out from being open so long and sleeping just wasn’t an option. I was up at 3am icing cupcakes, but that didn’t take as long as I had hoped, even being obsessively neat about it.

          I turned on my laptop, reported the three new hate groups, read a few messages from the delightful people on Twitter just to make myself feel even shittier, and went on to Van’s page. He hadn’t updated it again since the photo. I put on the TV, trying to find the most mindless show that I could. I wanted to turn my brain off and be distracted. Unfortunately, for once, everything was of an intelligent nature; documentaries, history shows and debates. I searched the movie channels and found one of Van’s. It was halfway through but I didn’t care. Seeing him on the screen caused the tears to start, and I sat there, wrapped in his robe, bawling my eyes out like a complete lunatic. The movie itself seemed to be a thriller, and my beloved was the bad guy, which was slightly unreal considering how sweet he was. His voice was lower, his sandy hair dyed brown and it was longer so it hung in his eyes. His character was utterly heartless and without morals, but I just enjoyed hearing his voice again. I dozed for a little while, and when I woke again, the sun was fully up and the flat was full of an orange glow.

          I was still shattered, but at least now I could get out of the flat. I boxed up some of the cupcakes and took them to the sweet guy at reception (he was very flattered and wouldn’t stop saying thank you.)

The sun blazed in a way I hadn’t experienced since I’d been here, but I wasn’t about to complain. I was still in love with the sun despite the thick coating of sunscreen I’d drowned myself in before leaving the building.

I’d had an idea last night (whilst staring at the ceiling for hours) and wanted to make a start on it. I would need a newsagent’s and an art supply shop. I could have asked for directions, but I really hadn’t explored as much as I should have. If I was still going to New York I wouldn’t be here much longer and needed to make the most of it. Besides, I had too much time to kill as it was.

          As I walked, I texted Sofia. I asked how she and Luke were and mentioned that I hadn’t heard from Van. She replied instantly saying that Van seemed really down, but insisted he was fine. He was hiding it well enough from Luke, but when he wasn’t around he looked morose and depressed. She said he was catching a flight back to me at 6pm, so probably wouldn’t be back at the flat until late. I thanked her and carried on searching for the shops I needed. This was not good. If he wouldn’t even talk to Sofia (and she is the easiest person on the planet to talk to) something must be really wrong. I ignored the guilt gnawing away at my insides as I really had no clue as to what I could have done. It was still there though, trying to get me to feed it with even more things I should feel bad about.

          I eventually found a newsagent that sold everything under the sun, or somewhere close. They had a scrapbook in the size I wanted, and a whole wall dedicated to magazines. I quickly had a look through them and grabbed any with Van in (over 20!) I was searching for more, when I saw a girl who looked a lot like me on the front cover of a magazine that is notorious for made up stories. I was on the front page of a magazine! How scary! They were still running the story that I was pregnant, but this time with triplets and I was only three months gone apparently. That was reassuring to know. We’d have to think up a third crazy name for when the triplets are born. I rolled my eyes as I read on, but had to buy three copies as I was so in shock at being a front page story (even if it was complete tosh.) I would send one to my mum, but I wasn’t sure if she’d find it as funny as I did.

          Lugging all the magazines back to the flat was not fun. The sun was getting insanely hot and the bags were really heavy. I made it eventually and laid them all out on the table to hack to pieces. Yes, I was scrapbooking. No I was not getting to that point where I was making them of Van so I could look at them and cry every time I missed him. I was making them for Luke. I knew his parents did everything they could to protect him from the craziness of their lives, which wasn’t always possible unfortunately, so I was trying to document everything his dad had done as much as possible for him to look over when he was older. Sure, he was twelve, but they were still keeping him out of photos and the media as much as was possible (not easy when you constantly have a camera shoved in your face.)

          I was happily cutting up magazines, surrounded by a sea of scrap paper, my hands covered in glue, and with a paper cut bleeding on to the table, when Van walked in. Fuck. I look like shit and the table is a complete mess! I was supposed to have time to clear up and make myself look…well, not pretty, but at least remove the glue from my skin and tidy myself up. I was staring at him in shock, my hands dropping to my sides. The blood dripped in a steady pattern onto the carpet. The cream carpet that we didn’t own. I barely noticed. Van’s expression was guarded, a frown on his face as he met my eyes. He was angry at me, it was obvious. I just wish he’d tell me what I’d done so I could at least try and fix it.

          “It would be nice to see you just once when you’ve not been injured.” He said in a clipped voice.

          “Shit!” I said, catching the blood in my other hand and running to the sink.

I washed my hands off and stuck a plaster over the paper cut. It was pretty pathetic, but wouldn’t stop bleeding. I grabbed a cloth and rushed over to the stain, dabbing it and scrubbing manically. It began to spread, turning pink and bleeding outwards. I was making it worse. To add to the fun, the plaster came off my finger and it began bleeding over the stain some more. Awesome. I could feel the tears coming and gave up trying to stop them. I was exhausted, confused and making things worse. I covered my face with my hands and just sobbed.

          I jumped when his hand began rubbing my back.

          “It’s just a carpet, it’s not worth getting upset about.” He said softly.

          “I don’t care about the fucking carpet!” I said between sobs. “I’ve been freaking out since you left about what I’ve done wrong and I still have no clue. If you want me to leave, I will, but please tell me what I did wrong.” I dissolved into a new round of tears, sniffling like an idiot.

He took a tissue from his pocket and pulled my hands from my face. He proceeded to gently wipe away all my tears, then the blood I’d managed to smear across my cheek. He sighed deeply, looking for the right words.

          “I haven’t been fair to you, I stormed off in a mood without any explanation…Let me get you cleaned up then we’ll sit down and talk about it ok?”

I nodded, swallowing hard to stop the tears from starting again. He lead me over to the sink and cleaned my hand up, wiping the dried blood that had run down my forearm to my elbow. His hands were deft and gentle. Being the coward that I am, I couldn’t meet his eyes, I looked at my feet, noticing droplets of blood on my socks. This country made me bleed a lot it seemed. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, so I stood there in silence as he stuck a plaster on my finger and lead me to the sofa. He sat and patted the cushion next to him. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

          This was going to be ‘the talk’. The ‘I don’t think we should work together anymore’ talk, or the ‘I don’t think we should live together anymore’ talk, or the ‘I’m taking out a restraining order against you’ talk. Regardless of its subject matter, the pained expression on his face made me think it couldn’t be good. Everything had been going so well though, we got on, we laughed at the same stupid things, we were good for each other, even if it was just as friends. Just as employer and employee. I didn’t want to think what my life would be like without him. It was pathetic and needy, but I’d never felt like this about anyone before, and it was pulling me to pieces.

          “I know Sofia told you about my last PA, but did she tell you about my latest ex?”

I shook my head, watching my hands fighting in my lap. I didn’t want to see if there was hatred in his eyes, regardless of how soft and gentle his voice was. This was the trouble with actors.

          “She was a lot like you actually; sweet, grounded, compassionate. She encouraged me to quit smoking, cut down on the drinking and made sure I ate three meals a day. She was also sleeping with most of the actors I worked with. She had one thing on her mind and it was her ambition. She didn’t care about me and stole phone number for contacts, insisted I introduce her to people she had no need to know… but I wanted to help her because she had helped me so much. Things fell apart quite quickly when she started selling stories to the papers about my alcoholism, drug taking and anything else she thought they might pay to hear. They didn’t care if it was true or not, and nor did she. There was no evidence, but that didn’t matter. My career was in shreds as no one wanted to hire someone with so many issues. Sofia and Luke were the only things that got me through it. Sofia would counter every story she told, providing evidence. Things gradually improved again, then I had the PA do almost exactly the same thing to me. My ex is still selling kiss and tells about all the people she has slept with, and none of them seem to learn from it. I ran away because…Georgiana I care about you far more than as a PA, as a friend. I thought you felt the same way until you said to your mom that I was just your boss. It scared me because it was starting to play out like it had with my ex and PA. You looked after me and ensured I looked after myself, you genuinely seemed to care and…” He trailed off.

          “I’ve never asked for anything from you.” I said. “Just your company and attention occasionally.” I said in a feeble voice.

          “I know. I pinned my hopes on this being different, but what you said on the phone…”         

          “I said that so YOU didn’t freak out! Jesus Van, you are so bloody blonde! I hang on to your every word! You’re all I think about, all I care about. The last two days have been utterly miserable. I haven’t known what to do with myself and I’ve spent a lot of it staring at walls and cyber stalking you!” I stopped myself before I sounded any more desperate than I already did. Well, the cards were now of the table, I would be kicked out in an instant.

          “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes were incredulous.

          “Hmmmm, I wonder. Could it be that you’re a hugely successful movie star and I’m just a freak from a small town in England? Or the fact that one of your ex’s is a frigging super model? Or it could be the fear of losing a job that I love. Why in God’s name would I tell you? That just leaves me open for fifteen thousand different kinds of rejection!” I met his eye and regretted it. His mouth was hanging open in horror, his eyes almost as wide. Excellent. Good going George, you’re not going to see him for dust.

He shook his head and thought for a moment.

          “This is entirely too grade school to be true. I like liked you and you like liked me and neither of us told each other.” He said in a cutesy sing song voice.

          “What?” I asked, my mouth echoing what his had just done.

          “George, I’m crazy about you and I don’t even think I’m very good at hiding it. In fact, I suck. First thing Sofia said to me when I mentioned you was; ‘You like her don’t you?’” His eyes were shining brightly.

          “Sofia is psychic I swear.” I said. “You…you want to be with me?”

          “A little slow on the uptake aren’t you Mac?” He said with a grin.

Well I was not expecting that, in fact it was the antithesis of what I had been predicting him to say. I’d actually packed my case this morning because I had expected this to go in the opposite direction.

          “I’ve been wandering around the flat wearing your robe. I even slept in it.” I said in a small voice.

          “And now you’re making a scrapbook of me?” He asked, looking over at the table, his left eyebrow raised.

I laughed.

          “No, it’s for Luke. I know you don’t let him read about you in the papers so I thought I’d start collecting them for when he’s older. I’m not completely whacked out just yet.”

His expression softened.

          “You’re doing it for Luke? That’s…that’s really sweet Iana.” His smile was contagious.

I took a minute to study him for the first time since he’d returned to me. He looked even more tired than usual, his eyes ringed, but perky and alive. He was growing stubble which was incredibly cute and made him look a little closer to his actual age. I still couldn’t associate him with a 30 something year old man, that was just insane. He was my age if not younger mentally. But we were both a pair of big kids. He wore a long sleeved blue top with the sleeves rolled back. I was guessing New York wasn’t as warm as Hollywood. He had the usual well-loved jeans which matched the ones I was wearing. He looked like a softer version of himself in the sense that his eyes were slightly dreamy, his voice almost a whisper when he spoke now. I guessed it was so I would have to lean in to hear what he was saying.

          “I really, really missed you.” He said, taking my hand between his and pressing it to his lips. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I was unbearable in NY. Sofia was getting seriously pissed off at the pining. She LOVED her picture by the way.”

          “How’s Luke?” I said, ignoring the fact that he missed me. I would be getting a gigantic ego if I thought about it too much. It was enough to know it and feel the relief in every part of me that he cared as much as I did.

          “He made you a comic book. He’s obsessed with drawing at the moment. It’s about Zombies as I told him you were a fan.”

          “AWESOME!” I said with a grin. “I made cupcakes. Pink, especially for you.”

          “You know me so well.” He rolled his eyes. “I only had three cigarettes the whole time I was away.” He said proudly, looking at my through his eye lashes. The sleeve on his top fell down and he twisted it around his fingers almost shyly.

          “If I asked you out on a date, what would you say?” He asked, pretending to be coy.

I laughed.

          “I’d have to check my schedule. I’m a very busy girl.” I said sarcastically.

          “So I gather from your voice mail. How in the hell did you get those tight fisted bastards to agree to that?”

          “I’m a girl of many talents. It was good to vent at someone as I wasn’t in the best mood over the weekend. I got recognised which was scary. This girl just came up to me, staring at my stomach to see if I actually was pregnant. She was hoping you were with me.”

          “Where was this?” He asked, still holding my hand. He traced circles into the back of it with his thumb.

          “I was out with Masa. See, I’m fighting men off with a stick at the moment.”

          “Masa?” I saw the exact second his eyes darkened and his hackles rose. I loved it. He was actually jealous! Don’t get me wrong, obviously I don’t want him to be unhappy, but at the same time, I was so flattered I felt like doing a little happy dance around the couch.

          “Masa is the guy that ran the Vegan bakery where I got the cupcakes. He asked me out. I’ve seen him a couple of times…” He was about to interrupt me. “…but nothing’s happened and I spent the whole time thinking of you. We haven’t even held hands, he acts like he’s scared of me. I really, really wanted to feel something for him because he is an incredibly sweet, good guy, but I couldn’t. I was just comparing him to you the whole time and it wasn’t fair.”

He smiled at that, clearly flattered, but it was the gospel truth. I didn’t think there had been more than two minutes where I hadn’t been thinking of Van when I’d been with Masa. It was awful because he deserved better. I would have to talk to him about where he thought we were going, because it wasn’t fair to make him think we were going to end up together. Maybe that wasn’t even what he wanted. I was leaving town soon anyway, so even if we had worked out, I wouldn’t have been around long enough to make a proper commitment anyway. Poor, sweet, lovely Masa. I didn’t think there was a girl in the world that would be good enough for him in my opinion. He was such a gentle, shy spirit. Actually, I’d pair him up with Sofia, she’d bring him out of his shell, but it wasn’t an option, not least because of the distance thing again.

          Van was staring at me as all these thoughts were buzzing around my skull. I’d spent all weekend waiting for him to come home, and now that he was here, I was having weird little ‘thought spasms’ where I was linking a million things that I really didn’t want to be thinking about when that beautiful man had his eyes on me.

          But what now? Did we carry on as we had done or did the fact that we (and I hated this phrase) ‘liked’ each other now make everything weird?

          “So, you gunna ask me out or what?” I said.

          “I’m going to wait until you least expect it.” He said, twisting his sleeve.

I took a cushion from the sofa and hit him with it repeatedly.

 

We talked through our options, but I told him I didn’t want things to change between us for now. Obviously I’d love him to ask me out, but until he stopped being a bastard and did it, things would stay as they had been with the banter, the pillow fights and the domesticated bliss. He admitted that that was one of his favourite things too. He’d never had a relationship that had been as ‘normal’ as ours was. It was far from normal, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. He’d dated super models and pretty girls who had false nails that they didn’t want to ruin. My nails were chewed to oblivion and since having the false ones removed, were still covered in flecks of adhesive. I did very much like being a proper blonde again though, that was one thing I might keep up from the premiere prep that I’d gone through. I hadn’t had hair this colour since I was tiny. I was still shocked by it

when I looked in the mirror every morning.

          We spent the afternoon practicing for his auditions by going through lines and looking over the notes I’d written for each one. He said he found them invaluable, and it was probably something he should have started doing years ago, but everyone wanted Van, he didn’t really even have to try. It was a lot of fun actually, and I got to show him how utterly horrific an actress I was. The dying swan act for one of the scenes was pretty spectacular if I do say so myself, even if I will be bruised tomorrow from throwing myself over the back of the sofa.

          Mid-afternoon there was a knock on the door. It was the lovely guy from the desk with a huge, thick envelope for Van.

          “I also wanted to thank you again for those cupcakes. My waistline doesn’t appreciate them, but my taste buds did.” He smiled warmly.

          “I’m so glad you liked them. They’re vegan.” I said, knowing that would shock him.

          “Really? I’ve never had vegan food before.” He said with a smile, excusing himself politely as he had to get back to the desk.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he frequently ate ‘vegan’, every time he ate a piece of fruit or had a salad with certain dressings. Masa’s recipe was proving popular. I’d have to make some for Sofia and Luke when we moved to New York. I was looking forward to seeing somewhere new. It seemed the girl who used to be scared to step outside her front door in the town she grew up in, had finally found her feet and grown a pair of balls.

          “Delivery Mr. Murphy. I’m guessing it’s scripts. I obviously put the fear of God into your agents if they’re hand delivering on weekends.”

He grinned, kissed the tip of my nose and opened the envelope. It was full to bursting. I had been right, they were scripts of every kind; TV, movies, even ones for music videos - now that would be cool. Van had already done three or four, but I wanted to see how it was different from a ‘normal’ shoot. Had he ever had to do a dance routine? Now that was something I would pay good money to see.

          We ate too many cupcakes, the wrappers all over the evil coffee table and the floor around it, as we picked through the scripts. They were all good scripts. The agents were obviously vetting them as before whenever they’d sent them over, there’s be three or four and most of them would be awful.

          “Miss. MacManus, I believe I have you to thank for this.” He said waving a handful of papers around. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many options at one time. I’m going to struggle to pick.” He didn’t look so tired anymore, a new energy awaked within him.

          “Leave them. I’ll go through it all whilst you’re at auditions tomorrow. I won’t have anything to do otherwise and will spend the time looking up how hated I am on the internet. At least now there’ll be a good reason.” I winked at him in a cocky way, he just shook his head.

          “I was thinking, in a couple of months, we should borrow someone’s baby just to freak everyone out.” His grin was so utterly evil I had to laugh.

          “I don’t think my mum could handle that. Wanna watch Breaking Bad?”

          “I would love to Miss. MacManus, but first please take the cupcakes away or I will keep eating them until I vomit. Who’d have thought your hippy vegan crap would taste so good.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh of righteous indignation.

          “You love my fake meat crap, you said it was just like chicken.” The amount of times I’ve switched meat for fake meat on unsuspecting people is not funny, and they can NEVER tell the difference!

          “I never did ask what it was made from…”

          “Mushroom protein. It’s not so appealing when you know that is it, especially as I hate mushrooms. C’est la vie.”

I put the cupcakes away as I was starting to feel like I’d had about six too many, and wandered back to the sofa. Van stood, scooped me up in his arms and plonked down on the seat with me on his lap. He moved to lie down and I did the same, spooning in front of him. His arm snaked around my waist and his breath was tickling the back of my neck. Breaking Bad had never been so good. If I could die right now, I’d die so euphorically happy.