The Actor's Secret

by Susan Stevens

  "Your attendance so the wizened old widows can maul your husband and then get out their check books. Also, my wife says do you want to pop over sometime?"

  Sephora grinned, happy at being included in the Hollywood circle of wives. Kale's wife was a well known actress in her own right, and several years older than her, and so she was grateful for the invitation.

  "Sure," Sephora said. "Yes, and yes, at least on my end. Garrett?"

  "Sure," her husband shrugged, waving his hand at her. "Give my assistant here the details."

  Sephora raised an eyebrow.

  "On second thought,," she said, looking right at Garrett. "He may not be able to come, because I may kill him before then."

  "Mercy! Mercy!" Garrett put up his hands in defense as she gave him a few playful smacks. "Mercy! Marcy!"

  "You tattle tale!" Sephora cried, as Marcy turned from across the set, giving them a death glare. Kale laughed.

  "Right, we'll leave you two to your domestic dispute and see you later then?"

  "Yep. Thanks!"

  Sephora laid off on hitting him as Marcy seemed to threaten death from across the set. Kale and Nick said goodbye and headed back to their own set, as Marcy came hurtling over.

  "Ok, you two, enough. Back to work. Garrett, why the hell aren't you in makeup. And Sephora, do you think that the limos for tomorrow aren't going to call themselves? Hop to it."

  "Aye Aye," she nodded, and waited for Garrett to get out of his chair and head to makeup. She noticed he was taking his time, wincing as he slid out of it and the half foot to the ground. "You ok?"

  "Sure," he nodded. "Just getting old."

  "Garrett..." she said, cautiously, but he shook his head.

  "Don't worry about it. You have limos to call."

  He ambled off, although it was slowly and with a limp. Marcy and Sephora both watched him go.

  "Shit," said Sephora. Marcy nodded.

  "Let me know, ok?" the older woman said. "If he needs some time off..."

  "I..." Sephora took a deep breath, trying not to be overcome with emotion. "I don't know if time off is going to fix it."

  "Is he getting worse?"

  His wife nodded, fingering her wedding ring.

  "His kidneys are failing, slowly. Not enough yet to take action, but still. The thing with him is, this should all be a fairly easy fix. But no matter what, it comes back, or something else keeps causing it. I don't know what to do anymore. Every time we go back to the hospital, I pray that we can walk out of there again."

  "Maybe it's time to say goodbye to TV life, at least," Marcy suggested, but Sephora shook her head furiously at that.

  "No. No, please no. That would kill him outright, to not be able to work. He needs to act, to pretend to be someone else who's not in pain, who's not suffering. He needs to be around people who make him laugh, make him smile."

  "Well, that's why he has you, sweet thing," Marcy lay a gentle arm on the younger girls shoulder. "I never told you this before, or anyone really, but I was married once. I was such a fragile young thing, even younger than you. Walked down the aisle at 17 to a 19 year old boy."

  "Oh my God," Sephora's mouth unhinged. "Wow. Why? Were you pregnant?"

  Marcy shrugged.

  "Because I loved him, just as you love Garrett. I loved him more than I loved myself and I couldn't picture a life without him."

  "So what happened?" Sephora asked, entranced in the story.

  "He died. I knew he was dying when I married him. He had pancreatic cancer, 4 months to live. Even then, knowing that, there were people against our marriage, saying that I shouldn't put myself through such pain, I should just walk away, and dear God, saying what if he lived? And I actually had to be married the rest of my life to him. They didn't realize I prayed for that every day. Didn't do any good."

  "Marcy, I'm sorry," Sephora muttered, as tears filled her eyes.

  Marcy shook herself, trying to get a grip on her emotions.

  "It's ok. I knew what I was going into. And I enjoyed every second that we had together. Wouldn't trade it for the world. So I understand how hard it is to watch, Sephora, and I also understand how brave you have to be. If either of you need anything, you let me know."

  "That's why you forced me to come home," Sephora said, a smile slowly growing on her face. "That's why you called me when I was still in Victoria."

  "Because I couldn't stand the fact that you two might not get a chance to be together," Marcy replied. "You were perfect for each other, every step of the way. And I wasn't going to watch that go down the tubes. All the pain, all the memories, it's worth it. My only regret is that we didn't have a child together, that I don't have a piece of him left." Tears flowed down her face and she reached up to wipe them away. Sephora put a manicured hand on her own flat stomach.

  "You can be Godmother to ours, if that helps. We were going to ask you anyways."

  "Thank you," Marcy smiled at her. "You let me know when..." and then she stopped herself, her eyes lighting up. "Wait, what do you mean ask me anyways? Are you...?"

  Sephora couldn't contain the grin that escaped her mouth.

  "Yes!" she cried and Marcy threw her arms around her.

  "Oh my God, that's amazing! When are you due?"

  "7 months from today. Don't tell anybody though! We obviously haven't announced it yet."

  "Garrett knows, right?"

  She nodded.

  "Although I think he's still coming to terms with it. They told me I'm not supposed to tell anyone for three months, but I don't know how I'm supposed to keep that a secret. I mean, a baby! A child, with Garrett. I can't believe that we created a life. We heard it's heart beat for the first time the other day and I nearly passed out."

  "I'm so happy for you!" Marcy exclaimed. "And I would love to be the God-Mother. Is it going to be an actor, or a crew member?"

  Sephora laughed.

  "I don't know. Whatever he or she wants to be. Hopefully, nothing to do with show business at all though. Something boring, like an accountant. We've had enough excitement in the past 2 years to last a lifetime."

  Marcy chuckled.

  "Well, I wish you and your little accountant a lifetime of happiness. It has great parents."

  "Yeah, it does," Sephora said, looking far off in the direction Garrett had left. "It does."

  ***

  The day of the ball, she had dread filling her from her toes to the top of her head. She could see all day that something was wrong. He hadn't eaten anything, and had barely moved from the couch, where he was pretending to be devouring a novel, but really dozing off. Every time he shifted, she could see the pain cross his face.

  "Garrett..." she finally said, at 3pm when they needed to start getting dressed. "You don't have to go. I can go. Or maybe we should go to the hospital..."

  "No," he shook his head and she noticed, in the evening light, that his skin had a yellowish tinge to it. "I'm fine."

  "Why are you lying to me?" she inquired, and he sighed.

  "We both have to go, this is going to be ground breaking. Kale raises millions of dollars, and it's the first event we have. I need to go, to be the face of it."

  "Garrett..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "Fine. But one sign of trouble, and we're out of there, you understand?"

  "You're the boss," he said, pushing himself up from the couch. He broke out in a thin sweat just with the effort, but Sephora kept her mouth close as she watched him cross the living room.

  "God, this is far," he managed to joke. She rolled her eyes.

  "We should have kept my apartment instead of moving into your mansion. Then you wouldn't have to walk so far."

  "Right," he managed a grin at her as he headed into the bedroom to get dressed.

  She was planning to wear a form fitting A-line gown, in a scarlet red that complimented her figure. However, when she tried it on, it didn't fit at all. Normally stick thin, her 9 month pregnant figure was more of a change than most women. She swapped A-line gown fo
r a princess gown, with tiers of lace, and a high waistline, so that the bulge that was her son or daughter was hidden below it.

  "You know," she said, as they got dressed. "If I'm showing so badly, maybe it is triplets. Or octoplets. Or something terrible like that."

  "How is that terrible?" He was fumbling with his jacket buttons, and eventually, she came over to help him. His body burned with heat, and up close, he looked terrible. They had elected not to know the gender or the number of the babies. Garrett, ever the child, wanted it all to be a surprise. Still, if he wanted to be stubborn, than she would say nothing.

  "I only have two breasts," she pointed out, and he laughed.

  "Well then, guess you'll have your hands full."

  "Um, you'll be doing midnight feedings too," she said, buttoning up the last button. Garrett took her hands before they dropped, holding them close to his heart.

  "Sephora..."

  "Don't." She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it. "You'll be here to see your child."

  "I just don't want you to feel trapped to do this," he muttered. "In case..."

  "I'm not discussing this. I have makeup to put on," she replied, and pulled out of his grasp, heading to the bathroom. Only when she was sure the door was closed did she let the tears fall down her face, putting her hands on her stomach.

  "Hang on, baby," she whispered. "Hang on."

  The limo was 10 minutes early pulling up at the house, but thanks to Sephora's tight schedule and insistence on being ready, they were able to slide into it. Garrett was surprisingly silent on the ride, his jaw clenched and his hands fidgety.

  "You ok?" she asked, and he nodded, but didn't look at her.

  It wasn't far to go, as they pulled along winding streets and took the one way back roads to avoid attention. The roads were curvy though, and although she felt fine, it must have been enough to affect him. 1 street before the red carpet, Garrett doubled over, and with preciseness and dignity, vomited onto the floor of the limo.

  "Oh, baby," she said, reaching out to take his hand and rub his back. He dry heaved a few times, tears coming to his eyes with the effort, before straightening up, leaning back against the seat.

  "I'm ok. It's ok."

  "It's not," she said, cracking open a bottle of water and handing it to him. He took a few grateful sips, and wiped his mouth with the tissue she produced.

  "We don't have to go," she said. "We can go home right now and I can send apologies. They are still going to donate, Garrett. In fact, they might donate more knowing that you are too sick to come."

  He shook his head, reaching for her hand.

  "I love you, Sephora. Did I tell you that today?"

  "I love you too," she said, squeezing his hand.

  "I really love you," he replied. "No matter what happens, ok? I'm always going to love you. And I'm always going to look out for you."

  "I know," she couldn't help but feel emotion well up in her throat.

  "Take care of my little one, alright?"

  "Garrett..."

  He shook his head.

  "Listen to me. Take care of it. Whatever it needs, or wants, whatever it wants to be. Never stop encouraging it to grow."

  "I love you, Garrett," she managed, choked on tears. He gave her one last smile as the limo pulled up, and then opened the door.

  It all happened so fast after that. He got out first, the flashbulbs blinding her even through the open door. She was busy trying to figure out how not to get her dress covered in vomit, and it took her a few seconds to get out as well, quickly checking her reflection in the mirror, wiping away the mascara tears.

  Her one high heel the ground and then the other, and she put on her Hollywood face, all smiles and rosy cheeks, raising her arm to wave to the crowd as she placed her other foot on the ground and rose. Just as she was fully in an upright position, stable and secure, Garrett, who was in front of her, stumbled backwards into her arms.

  The weight of him pushed her backwards onto the limo, as she wrapped her arms around his chest, trying to keep them both upright. Her stomach was holding nearly his full weight, and she felt pains shoot through her belly as she struggled.

  "Garrett!" she cried, and screamed when she looked down at his face. His eyes were unseeing, staring past her, and he was completely unresponsive to her shrieks. "Help! Help me!" she cried to security, who rushed forward. "Someone call an ambulance."

  "Get back in the car!" A security guard screamed at her. "Go to the emergency room yourself, you'll get there faster! Do you understand me? Do you understand me?"

  Sephora nodded, and leaned forward so someone could open the door. Somehow, within seconds, they were both in the backseat of the limo again, the driver given strict instructions to speed. Garrett's head was in her lap, and she was shrieking at him, begging and pleading with him to respond, but there was no answer. The pains in her belly began to nearly rip her apart, and when they got to the emergency room, she needed as much assistance as him.

  "Let him go," a nurse barked at her, when she tried to follow. "Let him go, we've got him now!"

  "He's my husband!" Sephora screamed, tears pouring down her face. "He's my husband, he's the father of my child!" She doubled over in a shriek, her labour already starting. The nurse looked at her in alarm.

  "are you full term?"

  Meekly, Sephora nodded. The nurse grabbed her hand.

  "Then come with us. You've done all you can, and now it's our turn to help you!"

  Sephora wanted to follow the stretcher that took Garrett with all her heart, but the labour pains were debilitating. She was already 9 cms dilated, and would be delivering that day, they told her. She begged and pleaded for information on Garrett, but none came as they told her she needed to push. She pushed with all of her might, the pain in her body barely matching the pain in her heart. She gripped the bed sheets, and focused on her Claddagh ring on her clenched hand as she pushed, focused on the love they had felt when he had given it to her.

  It's just to say to you that no matter what happens to us, I will always love you, respect you and be here for you.

  I need you NOW, Garrett she thought, with a broken heart.

  Suddenly, a calm came over her, a peaceful feeling that she never expected. The pain eased, and she felt the weight lift from her chest. She felt that all would be well, felt warm arms wrap around her and soothe her.

  She gave one last push and heard the cry that would change her life. Seconds later, a beautiful baby boy was placed in her arms, looking every inch like his father.

  10 years later...

  .

  .

  .

  .

  "Sephora! Sephora!"

  She responded to the screams of her name with ease, turning her head towards the endless flashbulbs and expertly not blinking, even as they blinded her.

  "How does it feel to be the mother of an Emmy nominated child?"

  She grinned, her hand on her son's shoulder.

  "Garrett Jr. is incredibly talented. I know every in and out of this kid, and I could barely recognize him in that movie. I'm just surprised, with his talent, it didn't happen sooner."

  "And if he wins tonight?"

  She grinned at her son, who was beaming beside her.

  "If he wins tonight, than he can stay up just a little past his bedtime."

  "Sephora, how does it feel to be back at the Emmy's after 11 years?"

  She bit her lip, knowing that question was coming, but unprepared for it, regardless.

  "It's bitter sweet, I think. The last time I was here, I was a child myself, on Garrett's arm, and it all seemed so glamorous and wonderful to me. Now, I know this business well, and I know there's a lot of hard work...and pain, that goes into it."

  "And you are working on a new movie now, aren't you?" The reporter shoved a microphone in her face.

  "I am. It's kind of an autobiography story, and half the proceeds from ticket sales will go to curing Rhabdomolysis for good. It'll be out nex
t year, and we've got a wonderful cast and crew."

  "Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to us, Sephora, and good luck tonight, Garrett."

  The reporter smiled at her, but her heart panged. 11 years ago, she had heard those very words, but it was a man on her arm then.

  The reporter turned back to his camera.

  "We were just talking to Sephora, the young widow of Garrett. 11 years ago, they walked this very path and now, she is here with her son, who is nominated tonight for his role in Tower. Next up..."

  The reporter droned on and the pair continued to stroll down the red carpet, smiling at the cameras and waving to the crowd.

  "Mom, do you think dad would be proud of me?" asked the carbon copy of his father, giving her the same grin. She nodded.

  "He would be very proud of you," she replied.

  "Are you sad, that he's not here?"

  Sephora bit her lip, and rubbed the silver ring on her finger, now tarnished with age. She offered her son a sad smile.

  "But he is here with us. Everywhere we go, everything we do, he's watching and making sure we're ok. He promised me that, and he was no one to break his promise."

  "If I win tonight, I'm dedicating it to him," said the son who never met his father. His first breath had begun when his father's last breath had expired. Sephora put an arm around his shoulders.

  "You already have, my love. You already have."

  Thanks for your support

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  Susan Stevens