by Isis Brown
Layla nodded. “Yeah, reminds me of my Dad.”
“What tricks does your Mom use to get him to take care of himself?”
Layla paused, looking up in thought. “I don’t know actually, and I prefer not to overthink it. I’ll ask her next time we face time.”
“Sounds good. Speaking of, when do I get to meet your family?”
“As soon as they’re back in town for sure. They only come to the states once a year or so, usually during a time when Sara is on a college break so they can all head down together.”
“Do they have a trip planned for this year?”
“They might be coming down for New Year’s actually, so if you still like me by then, you’ll have to come spend some time down here and meet with everyone.”
Isabel squeezed lime into the bowl. “Have they met any of your previous girlfriends?”
“They have.”
Isabel took a moment and seemed to hesitate before asking the next question. “Have they always been accepting?”
“For the most part. Lebanon has always had its share of queer people, but the culture has always been a bit at odds with religion. So people don’t really talk about it. It helps I live here, and they’re mostly there, so it’s not something they have to explain.”
Layla thought about how long the journey with her parents was. She never felt comfortable talking to people who weren’t middle eastern about it, because they never seemed to understand. So many of her friends were all or nothing, never having the deeper context or understanding of other cultures, religion, and how that impacts their ability to become culturally progressive against their entire lived experience. Layla knew that with her parents, it took time, and for parents who always supported and believed in her in everything she did, she was glad she allowed them to come around on her sexuality. They may not be participating in the pride parades, but they have always welcomed Layla’s partners with open arms, and have never asked Layla to keep herself closeted, which is all she ever asked of them.
Layla was brought back from her thoughts by a kiss on her cheek from Isabel. “That makes sense, I can’t wait to meet them,” Isabel said as she served them up two plates, and walked them to the dining table. Layla followed with their drinks, and they sat down next to each other.
“So I want to talk to you about TIFF,” Isabel said.
“TIFF?”
“The Toronto International Film Festival babe, come on, if you’re gonna be with me you’re gonna have to get with the lingo.”
“Not your friends?”
“What?”
Layla scoffed. “Spice Girls! If you’re gonna be my lover, you’ve gotta get with my jokes.” Layla broke out in song as she picked up the guacamole spoon, using it as a microphone.
Isabel laughed, letting Layla get the rest out of her system as she started eating.
“Okay, I’m here, TIFF. Ah, pardon me the Toronto International Film Festival,” she said with an exaggerated flare. “Tell me all about it.”
“Well, it’s coming up next month, and our film is in it so I will be going. There’s a whole red carpet, gala, and I’m nervous about it. My agent says they’re going to start asking me all sorts of questions about my personal life, so...”
“So what are you going to tell them?” Layla asked, taking a big bite of her taco, and watching half spill out of the other end onto her plate.
“I’m not sure, that’s why I’m bringing it up.”
Layla leaned back in her chair. “Well, what do you want to tell them?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve hidden my sexuality, but you’ve seen my social. I don’t post about anything other than work, memes, and Ramsey.”
“Yeah. Well, it’s up to you, babe. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” Layla wished she had a handbook for how to handle this situation.
“I just feel like if they ask, then it’s going to turn into this big thing about my personal life, and not my career, you know? What if I get typecast into just queer roles from now on? And what if they ask if I’m seeing someone and they want to know who that is?”
Layla could feel the stress emanating from Isabel and tried to lighten the mood. “You tell them you’re dating a brilliant Canadian television critic, obviously,” Layla said with her nose in the air as she dramatically swept her hair over her shoulder.
Isabel chuckled. “Be serious Layla. I don’t know what to say.”
Layla reached out and took Isabel’s hand, running her thumb over the top of it.
“How can I help?”
“Well, do you want me to talk about you?”
Layla shifted in her seat. One of the reasons she liked what she did so much is while the inner circle of political players knew who she was and what she did, but the greater public at large had no idea who she was. She got to affect change in the way that was meaningful and go out to dinner at the end of the day as an anonymous person. She wasn’t sure she wanted to change that.
“I mean, I guess? I’m not sure. I so enjoy being your girlfriend Iz, but I also like being behind the scenes, you know? All of the people who are important to me know about you. That said, I’m proud to be with you, Isabel. I am. So, whatever you want. You want me to stand there with you on a red carpet, I will. You want me to watch it here at home, and watch people fawn over you in a jealous rage? I can do that too.”
Isabel pulled her hand back, and Layla swore she could see her shut down.
“No, it’s fine,” Isabel said.
“What does that mean?”
“Let’s not rush to shout it from the rooftops just yet,” Isabel said as she stood up from the table, dumped the rest of her food in the trash, her wine in the sink, before heading into the bedroom.
“Uh, Isabel? What’s happening?” Layla asked, not knowing what on earth she just did to upset Isabel.
“Just tired. Goodnight,” Isabel said as she closed the bedroom door behind her.
For the second time in 24 hours, Layla had upset Isabel. At least this time, she knew she had made a big mistake.
Chapter Fifteen
“Okay Layla, wrap it up. You said five more minutes…” Marco looked at his watch, “Twenty minutes ago.”
“Fine,” Layla said as she locked her laptop and organized her paperwork into two piles. As she stood up to put her jacket on and grab her purse, someone knocked on her office door.
“What fresh hell is this?” Marco hissed under his breath as the door opened.
“Oh good, you’re still here. Just wanted to drop off the embargoed press release that we will drop first thing in the morning,” Sasha said as she let herself into the office, handing Layla a piece of paper. “I wanted to make sure you and the Mayor saw it ahead of time.”
“Thanks, Sasha, that was awesome of you to bring it by,” Layla said, glancing at Marco to gauge if she had time to read it or not.
“Go ahead, I can see you’re dying to read it,” Marco said, rolling his eyes. “But you have to keep me company until she is done,” he said to Sasha. “We were supposed to be happy-houring a half hour ago.”
Sasha laughed and sat down next to Marco. “Sorry handsome. How can I make it up to you?”
“How about you buy the first round?”
“Oh, I wasn’t planning--”
Marco interrupted her. “Don’t care, you have until she finishes that press release to cancel your plans.”
Sasha considered the offer for a moment. “Fuck it. I’m in. Here I thought Layla was bossy.”
“Who do you think she got it from?” Marco winked.
***
“So what is going on with you and Elliott?” Layla asked, taking a sip of her wine.
“Oh you know, we both pretend to play it cool, but it’s getting kind of heavy.”
“It’s getting, it’s gettin’, it’s getting’ kind of hectic,” Layla started singing.
Sasha joined in.
“It’s gettin’, it’s gettin’, it’s getting’ kind of
hectic.” They both sang and started dancing in their seats.
“Are you both done? Can I get back to my love story, please?”
They both immediately stopped like two kids who got in trouble from the teacher. “Of course, tell me more,” Sasha responded, sneaking a smile at Layla.
“It’s going well. We are taking it slow until he finishes grad school this coming summer, but then I’m hoping we can spend more time together. Like real time. He might come here.”
“That’s lovely, Marco!” Layla said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
“Hey, you’re not the only one who came home with some Canadian bacon.”
“I need to get on both of your levels and get me to Vancouver, STAT,” Sasha said. “Get me some maple syrup.”
“Nope,” Layla laughed. “Doesn’t work.”
“What? Why not?” Sasha asked.
“Too sticky. No one wants a sticky Canadian.” Marco said.
“It’s like bringing whipped cream into the bedroom. Great idea in theory, terrible in practice.” Layla said.
“What would you know about that?” Sasha asked with her eyebrow raised.
“A lady never whipped creams and tells,” Layla said, taking another sip of her wine.
Marco looked between them before giving Layla a pointed look.
“So, how are things with Isabel?” he asked.
“Oh you know, great, except for how I keep pissing her off and not knowing why.”
“How do you not know why?” Marco asked.
“Okay, so here’s what happened,” Layla said, setting down her wine glass.
“I can already tell you’re in the wrong when you start the story with ‘here’s what happened,’” Sasha said, eyeing Layla suspiciously.
“I agree. Case closed,” Marco added, making a show of wiping his hands.
“Wow. You’re not even going to give me a chance, huh?”
Sasha looked at Marco before waving her hand. “Fine, proceed.”
“Okay. Well, the short of it is, Isabel is going to TIFF soon, which is the Toronto International Film Festival, and--”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Marco said.
“Everyone knows that, Layla,” Sasha followed.
“CAN I FINISH?” Layla laughed. “Okay, so TIFF, apparently everyone knows what that is but me. Anyway, she is going to start getting asked about her personal life during interviews or whatever and asked me what she should say. So I told her I liked my privacy, but it was up to her either way and I’d support her.”
“Okay, sounds like you were supportive and gave her room to make her own decision. So what’s the problem?” Marco asked.
“EXACTLY!” Layla exclaimed.
“Wait, so you basically said you were neutral?” Sasha asked.
“Yes,” Layla said, feeling awfully proud of herself.
“Well, there’s your problem.”
“What? How?” Layla asked incredulously.
“When it comes to the woman you love, dummy, you shouldn’t be neutral. You should want to tell everyone all the time. That you’re together, that you’re in love. If she wants to preserve both of your privacy, that comes at the cost of that want. So, while she probably does want you to be understanding of whatever decision she makes, she also wants you to give a shit.”
“Ohhh,” Layla and Marco said at the same time.
“Y’all are so basic right now,” Sasha said laughing, taking the last sip of her drink. “You are both getting these next rounds, the amount of therapy I’m doing.”
Marco flagged down the server while Layla ran her fingers through her hair, wondering how on earth she was going to make it up to Isabel.
***
Hey, are you up?
Isabel picked up her phone and read the text from Layla. She considered whether or not she wanted to reply or if she should let Layla stew overnight. Her prudence won out.
I am. What’s up?
Isabel’s phone lit up with an incoming call. It was Layla. She took a deep breath.
“Hey, Layla.”
“Hey. You didn’t tell me when you made it home.”
“Yeah, sorry. I just picked up Ramsey and unpacked and it slipped my mind.”
“Isabel…”
“Layla, I’m tired. Sorry I didn’t call, ok? Can we drop it?” She exhaled in frustration.
“No, I’m the one who is sorry.”
Silence lingered between them for a few moments.
“For what?” Isabel asked hesitantly.
“For being a total fucking idiot. I dropped the ball last night when you told me about TIFF, and the night before with our phone date. I feel like I’m just fucking up all over the place, and it’s making it seem like I don’t want to be with you or that I don’t want people to know we are together.”
“That is how it feels,” Isabel conceded.
“I’m so sorry. That’s not how I feel. I love you. When you are ready to tell the world about us, I will be ready and right there by your side, excited and proud, every step of the way. If you aren’t ready yet, I will wait semi-patiently, but hate every second that people think you are this amazingly eligible bachelorette and not my girlfriend.”
Isabel felt the smile tug at her lips. “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” With a little more life to her voice now.
“Are you kidding? Self-improvement is exhausting. One minute I have to learn what TIFF stands for and the next I have to take accountability for my actions. No thank you.”
Isabel laughed. “I wish you were here.”
“Me too. So what do you want to do? About TIFF.”
Isabel hesitated. “I think I’ll try to keep our private lives private, for now.” While she was happy to have addressed the elephant in the room with Layla, she did not have the confidence she yet needed in their relationship and its future to talk about it publicly.
“Oh, okay,” Layla said, sounding somewhat disappointed. “Are we okay, though?”
“We are fine, Layla.”
“Okay, call me in the morning?”
“I will. Goodnight babe.”
“Goodnight.”
“Hey, Isabel? I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Chapter Sixteen
From the moment Isabel arrived at the Toronto International Film Festival, she was welcomed with open arms. She and Toni attended the screening of Isabel’s first feature film together and stayed for a discussion panel with the writer, director, and other actors from the film. She loved being surrounded by so many brilliant people who shared her love and passion for telling good stories. She had stars in her eyes as she recognized a ton of actors she had admired for years.
After the film and panel, Isabel and Toni hung out in a reception area to meet other attendees and artists.
“I can’t believe how many famous people are here,” Toni said to Isabel, swirling the remainder of coffee in her cup.
“I know, right? It’s all I can do to play it cool right now,” Isabel replied, taking a steadying breath.
“Oh my God, ten o’clock coming your way, Isaac Dent,” Toni said.
“Isabel? Forgive me for interrupting, I just wanted to introduce myself and congratulate you on the film. Truly transformative. If people didn’t know who you were before the festival, they will after.”
Isabel felt all the blood, just all of it, head to her face. “Thank you so much, that means a lot. Especially coming from you,” Isabel said, shaking his hand.
“Well, I hope we will get a chance to work together in the future. After what I saw today, I have no doubt they’ll be beating down your door.”
“It would be a dream come true.”
“I’ll let you ladies get back to your day, see you around.”
“Thanks, you too,” Isabel said, waving.
Isabel and Toni watched him walk away before turning to each other and doing their best to contain an excited squeal.
“Okay, that was awesome. Also, what the fuck,
woman!” Toni joked.
“What?”
“The gorgeous and recently single Isaac Dent, according to the magazines I keep at the salon anyway, came up and introduced himself to you. You didn’t for one second think to introduce me to him? What have I done to deserve that? Since we were kids I clothed you, and I did your hair, how could you?”
Isabel laughed. “I honestly just blacked out for that entire conversation.”
“Academy Award winner Isaac fucking Dent. Hooooly shit.” Toni fanned herself.
“I know. Crazy. This whole night is crazy.”
“AND I LOVE IT,” Toni said as she nudged Isabel. “More importantly, you deserve it. This is so great Isabel, and I’m so happy for you.”
“I bet you’ll be even happier when I get around to introducing you to Isaac.”
“Oooh first name basis, huh? You better. Him, and every other eligible handsome movie star in your near future.”
“Aye aye captain,” Isabel saluted. “So, what do you think we keep making the rounds and introduce ourselves to people?” Isabel smiled at the realization that she was having a wonderful time at the festival, and with every passing moment and interaction, she could feel her confidence rising. Perhaps she could do this movie star thing after all.
***
“Okay, let me see the whole shebang,” Layla said into the phone as she face-timed Isabel, standing up from her desk to close the door to her office.
Isabel handed her phone to Toni now that she was done with the final touches on her hair.
“Hey Layla, how are you sugar?” Toni asked.
“Missing you babes, how are you, Toni?”
“Good, proud of our girl here, all grown up and about to hit the red carpet. She killed it last night Layla. She is now the proud owner of TIFF.”
“That’s our girl. It’s really great that you were able to go to Toronto with her.”
“Right? The glamorous life of a hairstylist. Anyway, I know it’s not me you want to talk to, so here, let me switch this view around so you can see my handiwork.”
Isabel was standing in the large hotel bathroom, completely decked out in a beautiful floor-length green dress that hung off her shoulders. Her hair parted at the side and curled into an elegant updo showcased her diamond earrings and the softness of her neck and shoulders.