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.
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.
