Her American Classic (Part 2)

by G J Morgan

  “You fell asleep downstairs one night.”

  “I forgot about that. You could’ve left me, y’know. I’m quite prone to sleeping on sofas. I’ll sleep anywhere. Or on anything. Or with anyone. Ha,” she snorted at herself.

  “You’re the one who said you wanted to explore the island.”

  “Well I didn’t know it was going to be this treacherous, or so fucking cold either.”

  “We can go back if you like? I don’t mind.”

  “No, we’ve come this far. Besides I’m too windswept for party life. Is this safe? If they find our dead bodies down there on the rocks I’m blaming you, Tom.”

  “Look, I’m not keen on heights either. I’m probably more scared of being up here than you.”

  “Imagine I how I feel. My apartment is on a hill. The whole city is a fucking hill. Imagine being scared of heights and living on a fucking hill.”

  Tom smiled, it made me hold his hand a little tighter. I’d been holding his hand ever since we danced and I had no intention of letting go. I thought he was going to kiss me earlier, as we danced nose to nose, prepared myself for it, imagined what it would be like. Not kissing him was harder than kissing him and I very nearly did when he brushed my hair away from my cheek; instead, I rested my head on his shoulder until the song ended and my heart could beat normally again.

  “Here it is.”

  “Here’s what?” I said, looking around his body behind him.

  “The pub.”

  “It’s the size of mom’s pantry and it’s closed.”

  “Stop moaning. Here,” he said, passing me my hot chocolate. “It’s cooled down now.” I took it in both hands, appreciating the warmth, as we sat down on a wooden bench. “Nabbed these too,” he said, taking out two foiled parcels from inside his tuxedo. “Probably need my jacket dry-cleaned now. Smells of bacon.”

  “I’ll buy you a new tuxedo,” I said, my mouth full. “I’ll buy you a whole rail of ’em.”

  “Not a bad view, is it?” he said looking across the horizon, putting his jacket over my shoulders.

  “Pretty, though, all those little houses in the hills. You think anyone is sat looking at us? This crazy island. Our little Alcatraz.”

  “Probably.”

  “You sure you’re not cold, Tom, just in a shirt? Here, have some of my drink.”

  “No, I’m fine. Think I have enough Tom Collins inside my system to keep me warm.” He took a bite from his roll, as we both paused. No talking, our eyes outward across the sea as we chewed and thought. Black waves, black land, black sky, not even stars, not even a moon.

  “Wish you didn’t have to work next week,” he said.

  “Sucks doesn’t it? I could ring in sick.”

  “Do famous people ring in sick?”

  “I’m sure they do. I miss bunking off, I used to be pretty fucking good at it too, knew all the scams. Ferris Bueller had nothing on me.”

  “Would you actually do it? Ring in sick?”

  “Probably not. Skipping Geometry and skipping a multimillion film production is a different level of truancy. I’m brave but not that brave.”

  “I see your point.”

  “And remember Frank and Sally are back in a couple days too.”

  “Don’t remind me. Still can’t believe we’ve only known each for less than a week. How fucked up is that?”

  “Feels so much longer.”

  “It has been pretty full on.”

  “I don’t think so. We’ve spent most of it watching movies and getting stoned.”

  “No, I meant full on as in I don’t tend to spend six whole days with just one person. Especially not one I’ve just met.”

  “The whole thing has been surreal. Does it still feel surreal? Am I still the famous actress?”

  “I still have the odd moment where I freak out, but it doesn’t last long.”

  “Talk about extremes though.”

  “What extremes?”

  “When I get on a plane and travel ten hours in the other direction, that will be the end. This will be over.”

  “Calm resumed finally,” he smiled.

  “And you’re fine with that, are you? Never seeing me again?”

  “I’m not fine with it, but I always knew that was the case. I never saw it finishing any other way. Think I’m just happy I met you at all, that I had the best few weeks of my life with you. I’m happy I had that.”

  “I’m not.”

  “There was never going to be any other outcome.”

  “Unless?”

  “I know what unless you’re talking about. And you know why I can’t.”

  “I don’t know, Tom. That’s the thing. I don’t know why you can’t come back.”

  We stopped talking, I ate, took tiny sips of my drink, whilst Tom looked outward and downward.

  “You wanna know why?” Tom said.

  “I think I deserve to know.”

  “Surely you know already.”

  “And you think it’s acceptable for me to have to guess why?”

  “Would telling you change anything?”

  “No, but it would help me understand why you are happy to let me leave, why you’re happy for all this to be over. Cos at the moment I don’t. I don’t understand why you are willing to let this slip away. Your wife is dead. Not you.”

  He said nothing.

  “I’m sorry, Tom. That was out of order.”

  “No, you’re right, Lilly.”

  “About what?”

  “All of it.” He looked embarrassed. “Who told you? My mum, I bet. What else she tell you?”

  “Only a little.”

  “How much do you know about Cassie?”

  “Hardly anything. Bad car crash.”

  “You could say that.”

  “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.”

  “You never want to trust me.”

  “Least she died quickly, painlessly. I’m sure you get told that all the time. I know it doesn’t sound much to hold onto. But it’s something.”

  “Painless, who told you that, Mum again?”

  “She said she died on impact.”

  “Well, she didn’t.”

  “Why does your mom think that?”

  “Because I told her. Because the truth is horrible. It’s better this way. Like you said, dying quickly and painlessly is something for people to hold onto.”

  “And what about you? What do you hold on to?”

  He didn’t answer, eyes somewhere else.

  “Who have you told about how Cassie died?”

  “No one. And it will stay that way.”

  “You can tell me. It might help getting it off your chest.”

  He still didn’t answer, took a few seconds before he could look at me.

  “Cassie didn’t die on impact.”

  “Did she know what was happening? Was she conscious?”

  He nodded. “She kept crying, screaming in pain, screaming for me to help. But I couldn’t get to her, she was trapped. I tried to get to her, tried to get through but I couldn’t. I held her hand. That’s all I could do. Told her she was going to be OK when I knew she wasn’t. There was blood, so much blood.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. Just kept hold of her hand. Told her to keep her eyes on mine, tried to stop her looking down at the blood and metal.”

  “And Molly?”

  “Molly was in shock. I don’t think she knew what was going on. But Cassie did, I could tell by the panic in the voice, she knew. The way she looked at me and Molly, she knew she was dying. I was helpless, pathetic, I should have been able to save her.”

  “I’m so sorry, Tom.”

  “It’s best to tell people she died instantly. It’s easier for peop
le to cope with, to cling onto when they are grieving. I couldn’t bring myself to look them in the eye and tell them what I saw, and what she said. To tell them she was pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “The doctors told me.” Tom’s face downward. “Four weeks pregnant. I didn’t even know myself.”

  “Did Cassie know?”

  “If she had known, she’d never told me.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “I lost my wife and child that day, Lilly. And I can’t even tell anyone about it. I have to keep it built up inside.”

  “Did you get any help? Doctors? Counselling?”

  “A little. None of it worked. The only thing that worked was this job, meeting you.”

  “I don’t know how you managed to be so strong.”

  “I didn’t manage at all. Took me a long time to get to where I am now. I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from it. The things I saw in that crash, it’ll never leave me, and nothing in self-help books or in medicine will ever change that.”

  “It will get better, Tom.” I put my hand on his. “Every day it will get better.”

  “Can you see why the lie is better for everyone? Cassie died quickly and painlessly. And no one will ever know otherwise.”

  “You could have told me about Cassie sooner.”

  “I was protecting you from it.”

  “I don’t need protecting, Tom.”

  “Well, protecting me then. I didn’t want you to see me as a widow, to give me that look you are giving me now. I’ve seen it too many times. Just because my wife died doesn’t mean every person I meet has to know. I just want to be Tom, not the guy everyone feels sorry for.” Tom looked across the horizon, so did I, the ocean had turned darker. “You don’t agree, do you?”

  “No, I do actually. Lies are necessary sometimes. The world is a horrible place. I mean it’s beautiful too, but there is so much pain and suffering, so much bad news. There is no benefit in her parents knowing the truth. Or Molly, it will just eat away at them, make things worse. And not everyone needs to know about Cassie, not until you want to tell people.”

  “Molly will ask questions one day. I can’t keep lying to her.”

  “You can. Tell her you saw a bright light, a beam from heaven, angels took her away, whatever makes it easier to digest, whatever makes Molly able to lead a normal life, one filled with hopes and dreams and naivety, not memories that rot and fester, that make her weak and fragile.”

  “I can’t lie to myself though. I know what happened.”

  “Oh, you can, Tom. You can. I lie every day.”

  “To me?”

  “To you, to myself, everyone.”

  “Like what?”

  “Small things. Big things.”

  “Like?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Tom. I lie to myself about my relationship with my mom and dad, pretend it’s OK when it’s not. I lie in interviews, pretend I’m this happy, successful career woman. I lied to Frank about the coke that night.”

  “You told me you didn’t take any.”

  “Well I did. If it makes you feel any better, I lie to myself too.”

  “Why do you need to?”

  “My life isn’t great, Tom. It may look like it is but my life is screwed up.”

  “What? Your parents?”

  “No, not them. I can’t blame them for everything. I’m equally responsible for fucking things up.”

  “Everyone fucks things up.”

  “Some fuck-ups are bigger than others.”

  “Like?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “You can tell me?”

  But still more quiet, more looking anywhere than at Tom.

  “Did you know at thirteen weeks a baby can feel pain when it is aborted? Real pain, I read that somewhere once.”

  “Lots of people have abortions, Lilly.”

  “Safety in numbers doesn’t make me feel any better. And is still no excuse. I stopped a beating heart, Tom. I terminated my own flesh and blood.”

  “You made what you probably thought was the best decision at the time.”

  “Best decision.” I laughed. “It had fucking fingernails, Tom, toenails, it had a face, my face. And I let someone murder it.”

  Tom came over and sat beside me, put his arm around my shoulder, held me till my tears stopped.

  “I’ll never be happy, Tom.”

  “I’m tired of it though. Aren’t you? I’m tired of being sad, feeling hard done by.”

  I nodded.

  “I won’t lie to you anymore, Lilly. I’m sorry for keeping so much back from you.”

  “I don’t mind lies, Tom. Just try not to hurt me. I’ve been hurt before. I can break at any time.”

  “We make a great fucking couple don’t we? Fucked up, screwed up. Lying to others, to ourselves.”

  “Please come back with me to LA, Tom.”

  “I can’t.”

  “It wasn’t LA’s fault what happened? I need you, Tom. I can’t do it on my own.”

  “I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Then I’ll stay.”

  “Don’t be silly, Lilly.”

  “I’ll stay. Move to England.”

  “What about your family? Your friends? Your career?”

  “I can do all three from here.”

  “You couldn’t. It’s too much for someone to give up.”

  “I’m not given anything up.”

  “You’re drunk and it’s late.”

  “Tom, I’m not that drunk and it’s not that late.”

  He looked at me, smiling. “You’re fucking wild y’know? I thought I was wild but I can’t compete.”

  “I mean it though, Tom. I would move here.”

  “I know you would, that’s why I can’t let you.”

  “And you think not having your permission would stop me?” I leant over and kissed him.

  Lips cold. Trembling hands.

  18

  Outside storm pelted thin glass, music was playing from our stereo, sweeping guitar riffs washed over the room, inside it felt silent. Lilly was still undressing herself, first her jewellery, the pins from her hair, I felt inclined to do the same, unbuttoned my shirt, took off my trousers, now I was laid on the bed, waiting as Lilly unrolled her tights, peeled off her dress. It was slow and intentional and it could have gone on for forever and still wouldn’t have been long enough. In our half-lit room her body looked mesmerizing, the way her back moved, her curves, it was a temptation no man could refuse, so why was I talking myself out of it, why was I so petrified? The word ‘marriage’, the word ‘vow’, the name ‘Cassie’, the name ‘Lilly’, my heart filled with enough love for both, when neither should have to have been shared.

  Breathing became a conscious decision as she removed her bra and laid beside me. I could tell she was scared, I was too, but I should have been strong enough not to be, she deserved better than indecision and I felt the fool being inches apart, eyes to ceiling, one bed and two people not sure what to do next.

  The goddess and the coward.

  19

  I’d been nervous before but never like this. My hands trembled as I removed my earrings, my heart pounded as I unclasped my necklace, I consciously took my time, it felt significant, ritualistic, the removal of my clothes and make-up, my jewellery, becoming natural again, like an ancient tea ceremony. I’d never felt like this, never had sex like this before, so calm and meticulous. I knew how hard this would be for Tom, the conflict going through his head, but I wanted to be sure he was ready, let him have enough time to make his decision. For me, too; we were both as damaged and fucked up as each other, it wasn’t the time for passion and impulse, it needed to be rational. Despite what the world thought and what everyone had read about me, includ
ing Tom, I hadn’t actually slept with anyone since Max. And even though I’d kissed a few guys whenever they’d tried to take it to its next logical step I always found an excuse, not that I even understood what the actual excuse was. I just knew I wasn’t ready, the thought of giving myself to someone again both emotionally and physically, like I’d forgotten how to do it, how to enjoy it, my body and my brain over-thinking it. Tom was the only person I’d met who would have the patience, who would understand how difficult it was and how fragile we both would have to be with each other.

  I caught a glimpse of him in the corner of my eye, he was topless, tattooed, toned, how I imagined him unclothed. I’m glad he couldn’t see my face, I was blushing, smiling too, a smile that hadn’t left my face since our kiss on the cliffs. Tonight would change things, what happened next could make things unrecognisable and I was frightened by its extremes.

  I removed my clothes, stripped myself down to underwear, as I laid beside Tom. I couldn’t look at him, I wanted to, I just couldn’t, lay there working out what might be going through his head. Maybe he wasn’t ready, maybe this was a mistake. Someone had to say something, do something, two chess players fully aware of the danger and reward of who moved first.

  We laid there for minutes, hours, I couldn’t tell, the room felt different, the world felt slower.

  Accidentally our eyes caught one another, I smiled, laughed, he smiled back, took my hand, kissed my head as I cuddled into him as tight as I could, his arms wrapped around me, rain and wind and music, but I’d never felt so warm and protected or so happy.

  Nothing else happened that night, it didn’t need to, we both knew the significance of what it meant, sex would have cheapened it and wonderfully and incredibly not making love had only made me love him even more.

  Part Two

  The island/ April/Shot 268

  20

  The set was quiet today, I’d forgotten my love scene with Rogan, forgotten my handbag. I’d only been away for four days, but like returning from school after summer vacation unable to write or read, I was the same, scrambling around like the new kid, asking where everything was and where I should be.