Don't Tell the Moon

by LILY TEEGARDIN

  She tried, but with each word the up-until-now bottled tears sprang from her eyes anew, and she hiccupped at each attempt at speech.

  “Here,” he got up and brought her a glass of water. “Drink this. And take a deep breath.”

  She did as he ordered, wiping her face on her sleeve and blowing her nose into the tissues he pulled out of the pocket of his robe.

  “Alright. Well, you asked for it then.” She sighed, inhaled deeply, and started her story, not stopping until she reached the part where she had met Stuart on her way to the travel agency. She even included the night of the SIM awards, but neglected, of course, the most intimate details.

  “I’m a logical person and I know it’s stupid to cry about it, to go on hurting over it, Ian. I guess it’ll just take a bit of time for my heart to catch up with my head,” she said, blowing her nose into a wet and soggy tissue.

  Afterward she felt as though a stone had been lifted from her, and as he rocked her in his arms, she cried again, but this time in relief.

  “Well… ” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, touched by the outpouring of her emotions. “You got me with that one, lass. That wasn’t what I expected.” He kissed her cheek with the tender kiss of a father, patting her hair.

  “What did you expect, then?” she asked, curious.

  “Oh, I suppose a story of a minor crush. Stuart had said a few words about a possible ‘personal complication’ with your former employer. I just had no idea how excruciating this must be for you, after all those weeks of forming a friendship that turned into an obvious classic love affair; and then to end in that way.”

  “Yes, well…” She stood up and walked to the bar, scooping up a handful of peanuts. The lack of food in her stomach and the scotch on top of it must have triggered her outburst, she surmised, and now she feared that she had passed on a problem to him that he might feel obligated to solve.

  “Ian, please, please promise me that this will not go beyond this room. No matter how much you feel that you may want to help me, you have already. Just by being there for me and listening. In no way are you to try to play cupid or counselor. I would be mortified.”

  “Sara, I give you my word. No meddling. I can’t even speculate on his motives. I know Alex to be a decent and honorable man, and I can’t fathom that he would set up a convenient alibi to end your… friendship, as it did. But then again, we all do things when we are confused and emotional. Was it intentional on his part? Maybe so,” he spoke as if to himself. “But in that case you did the right thing. Not every story is meant to have a happy ending. You conducted yourself honorably and you should have no shame.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said, studying the last three peanuts in the palm of her hand. “I do blame myself a great deal. I should have insisted on returning to my own room after that first night. It just seemed much easier at the time to… ”

  “Well, who knows. Nothing to do about that now. Coulda woulda shoulda.” He stood up and hugged her again. “Alex is a grown man. He also coulda woulda shoulda done things differently. Obviously you both had a chemistry that wasn’t going to go away.”

  She rubbed her swollen eyes with the heels of her hands. “Yes. And too much damned moonlight. You’re right. I guess sometimes stuff just happens. Time to move on now.”

  “Can’t imagine it, though. Look at you. Nose bright red and blotches all over your face - poor homely little thing; hard to picture a theater idol falling for you.” He winked and laughed and kissed her on her eye, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “Piss off,” she laughed, hugging him back. “So you promised me a pleasant drunken evening and all I’ve done is cry. What say we have another drink and change the subject?” she stated with genuine relief in her voice, and climbed back up on the bar stool.

  “That’s my girl!” He gave her a wide grin and reached for the scotch bottle.

  Week after week Sara accompanied Ian to events that she had only previously dreamed about, now taking her job in her stride, dealing with actors, directors, producers, the media and thousands of idolizing fans. She was especially kind and considerate to his loyal devotees, remembering so well how it felt to be on the other side of the rope. She made it a point to carry extra photos for autographs, plenty of Sharpie pens. She even had a Polaroid in her bag for those fans who desired a picture of themselves together with Ian, but in their haste had forgotten to bring a camera. Within weeks she started to receive her own daily fan mail, a bundle of thank-you’s from grateful Ian admirers.

  When production began for his newest film, they traveled around Europe in planes, trains, caravans and cars to various locations, and as busy as they were, Ian always made time for them to take in the sights, experience some of the local cuisine in the restaurants, and wander the shops for souvenirs and keepsakes.

  “Sara, come here.” He pulled on her elbow when they entered a small shop in the heart of the Black Forest in Germany. “Pick out one of these clocks. I’ve already ordered two to send back to Ireland, and I think you should have one as well.”

  Her eyes crinkled in merriment as she gazed at the large and ornate time keepers, carved with intricate detail. “Ian, I’ve told you a dozen times. I live in a very small house on a tropical island, and yet you insist on showering me with gifts that belong in a three story mansion. You have to stop,” she said, raising a serious eyebrow.

  “Well, that’s no problem then. I’ll just buy you the mansion to put them in.” He hugged her shoulder and pointed up to another row of clocks on the far wall. “Go ahead, choose. You can’t leave this country without a cuckoo clock.”

  “I think you are the one who is cuckoo, and thoroughly incorrigible.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and hugged him back. “But if you insist, I’ll take that little one with the magnet on the back and it will go on my refrigerator.”

  “Sacrilege,” he bristled, but plucked the magnet of the miniature clock from the rack and handed it to the shopkeeper. “Alright, you win, but only for the time being. There is a little frock shop next door, and I dare you to tell me that you don’t have room in your home for a new dress,” he said, a smug look on his face.

  Sara had to admit that the whirlwind days and nights were challenging and exciting, and a soothing antidote to the painful thoughts that continued to pop into her mind from time to time.

  A movie poster from The Beekeeper series had been prominently displayed in one of the arts shops that she visited, and just seeing his face once again, starkly handsome, wearing the tunic that they had so often joked about, had released a stunning wave of sadness.

  Ian had seen it in her face. “Come on darling. Nothing in here that interests either one of us.” They had left the shop quickly, and neither one had mentioned it again.

  She first spotted the Eiffel Tower between the trees of the city park, their recently bare branches looking now as though they were sprinkled with lime sugar, the buds straining to burst with the first wave of warm weather. It was an early spring, and the sun was dazzling.

  “Ian, can you see it? It’s still a good distance away, but I know that’s it!” she cried, her exuberant shouts eliciting small smiles from people passing by.

  “Yes, Sara, and not to worry. Tonight I will take you on a riverboat ride. The Seine flows past the Tour Eiffel, as the French call it, as well as the Louvre, the Notre Dame Cathedral, and dozens of other historical sites. You will see the tower lit up in all of its glory; I promise.” His face glowed with amusement at her obvious joy. “But you will have to sight-see on your own until then, I’m afraid. I have meetings all afternoon and, lucky for you, your presence won’t be required. I suggest that you go and grab a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a bottle of wine from one of the shops next to our hotel, and have a picnic in the park. It’s quite safe, and a great place to people-watch.”

  His description of the riverboat ride reminded Sara of her ferry excursion on the Thames with Stuart, and how it had upset Alex that he hadn�
��t been the one to share it with her. She shrugged the memory off like an annoying fly on her shoulder - he’d also promised her a picnic, but that too had been a pipe dream.

  It was a grand day to spend in the park. The quite unexpected spring weather was tempting both young and old to take advantage of its pleasures. Sara found an empty bench to settle in, and stretched her face up toward the warm sun.

  A group of elderly men played a game that she didn’t recognize, but thought it to be something akin to horseshoes. In her basic French, she couldn’t quite catch the rules of the game, but as is common to all participants of sports around the globe, she easily picked up some of their boastful phrases and friendly taunting wagers.

  Children flocked to the spinning carousel, tugging with eager hands on their mothers’ skirts in a rush to mount a colorful wooden horse or zebra that had caught their eye. The siren call of the hurdy-gurdy calliope music provided additional, irresistible temptation.

  A boy of about sixteen circled a pretty, dark-haired girl around the trunk of a poplar tree, she squealing in mock protest as he caught her and planted a quick kiss on her cheek, both of them laughing as they raced away for another chase.

  Sara breathed a contented sigh, and unwrapped the sandwich she had purchased at a boulangerie next to their hotel, two blocks from the park. It was a warm crusty bun, with a buttery cheese center that had cooked golden brown around the edges.

  She was about to take her first bite when she saw him.

  He was walking, head down, obviously deep in thought.

  Sara froze, not moving a muscle, her face burning with the shock of his sudden appearance.

  As he passed her, she could see his face clearly.

  He looks so sad, she thought, starting to cry out his name, forgetting for the moment that they were no longer… what? Friends? She pulled back at the last second, the word remaining in her throat.

  He was almost out of her eyesight before she remembered to breathe again.

  She took a bite of the sandwich, but couldn’t swallow it, and tossed it into a receptacle. “Oh, Alex,” she murmured, a pain stabbing her heart. “At least you seemed to be happier before you threw me away.”

  It was little consolation, but she did feel a tiny sense of closure.

  As Ian’s filming schedule was nearing its finish, Sara felt a pang of sadness to be ending this incredible experience. They had both worked endless hours, often collapsing long after midnight, only to awaken again well before the first light of dawn. There hadn’t been much down time, but they had enjoyed as many sights as possible. He had treated her more like a princess than an employee, despite the long hours he had spent preparing and delivering his performances.

  Returning from Poland, the last of the film shooting sights, she sank into the sofa and smiled at him as he carried large drinks in his hand toward her.

  “Well, that went well,” she sighed. “I was really nervous for you insisting on doing so many of your own stunts. A man of your age, feeble and fragile… ” she said, taking a sip and grinning into the glass.

  “I’ll show you fragile!” He started to unzip his fly and Sara spat out her drink in laughter.

  “No, No! I was joking! I’m certain that you are hung like a horse, and ready to go at the drop of a hat.” She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had any offers lately,” he groaned, collapsing on the sofa next to her.

  “Yes, poor undesirable you. I saw that blonde yesterday at the press conference who all but stuck your hand down her blouse,” she giggled, crunching her ice cube.

  “Yes, but when I reached for her crotch I found out that she was a he.” Ian rolled his head to her shoulder and laughed deeply.

  They enjoyed their drinks this way, recalling moments of the trip that had been particularly outstanding.

  “I loved the journey on the Eurostar, from London to Paris, traveling underneath the English Channel. What an amazing experience,” she recalled, eyes wide with the memory.

  “You did not. You were pale as a ghost. I still have the imprints of your fingers on my arm,” he chuckled.

  “I did so. It was very memorable.”

  “Did not. Tell me then, what part was so memorable? I only remember you swallowing repeatedly to clear your ears,” he tittered, squeezing her shoulder.

  “Yes, the swallowing - that was my favorite part. Don’t you remember bringing me that chocolate croissant from the food car? It was so flaky and so chocolately, I nearly swooned from happiness.”

  “Hear ye, hear ye: we are speaking of one of the most astounding examples of engineering known to man; and what is it that has most impressed the girl? A pastry from the food car.” He threw back his head, laughing at his own words.

  “To each his own,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him, her eyes dancing with a smile.

  “Sara, can I change the subject for a moment to something a bit more serious?” He set his drink down on the coffee table and turned to face her.

  “Sure. What’s up?” She was now curious. Ian rarely had a serious moment, outside of his craft.

  “Tomorrow I have a cocktail reception to go to, and I have been made aware that Alex will be present. I thought it a good idea to let you know ahead of time. I would have no problem if you decide to skip this one. It will be purely social and I can manage without you, if you feel that it may be uncomfortable for you.”

  She reddened a bit, the sudden heat from her belly flushing her face.

  “Yes, I would rather avoid that one, if you don’t mind, Ian.” She brushed her finger lightly over the back of his hand, tracing a vein that stood out in bluish color against his sun browned skin. “And thanks for the warning. I think that I am doing much better. Perhaps it was a good thing, spotting him in Paris. I guess I needed to see Alex one last time in order to close down that chapter of my life.” She winced involuntarily as she spoke the name that her tongue hadn’t formed in many months.

  “I thought you might feel that way, but still I wanted to give you the choice. I know that almost a year has passed since you left his employ, and you seem to have your feet solidly on the ground, but I’m in agreement with you – why rip the scab off when the wound is nearly healed. I’m going to miss you terribly when you go back to the states next month, but if you have to go, I would rather see you go back whole and happy.” He cupped his hand over hers and gave it a firm squeeze.

  Yes, Sara’s time with him had almost passed. Emily would be returning to her position as his assistant in less than four weeks. It had been a wonderful year, far surpassing her expectations. She had traveled to so many places, seen so many things, made so many new friends.

  With each day, Alex was becoming a distant memory, with no pain attached, she told herself, and it became her daily mantra.

  If only she could convince him to stay out of her dreams at night.

  She hadn’t expected to be so nervous or restless, but as the day wore on into the evening, Sara found herself pacing the floor, butterflies in her stomach. She chastised herself several times in the hours that passed, and at long last, made herself settle down on the couch, book in hand.

  “So, how did it go?” She looked up from her reading as he entered the room.

  “It was fun. Lots of old faces I hadn’t seen in a while,” Ian said, sitting down next to her. “And stop fidgeting; I won’t keep you in suspense. He was there. We spoke for a bit.”

  “Oh?” Her attempt at nonchalance failed miserably, as she lifted her thumb to her mouth.

  “Stop chewing your nail,” he reprimanded, taking her hand into his own. “I did not say one word about… well, you know.”

  “Alright,” she smiled, letting out her breath. “I knew you wouldn’t. You are my best friend on this side of the world. I trust you.”

  “Although, something a little strange did occur.” He puckered his lips in a lopsided twist, remembering the moment.

  “What?” She was suddenly
agitated once again. “Does he know? Has Stuart told him I work for you?”

  “No. I spoke with Stuart months ago, right after our tearful night of scotch and peanuts,” he grinned. “I warned him not to say a word. Stuart wants me to star in his next film, so I have no doubt whatsoever that he will do everything I ask of him.”

  “Well, then, what was so strange?” she asked, her face relaxing somewhat.

  “As we were talking, Colin walked by and greeted us, then looked around and asked, “Where’s Sara?”

  “Colin? Well, of course he would.” She smiled at the memory of Colin’s handsome, boyish face, quick to tease and flirt at every opportunity. “Colin and I have become pretty good buddies over the year. He is always kind enough to include me in his conversations. I think he likes Americans.”

  “Yes, well, at the mention of your name, Fleming’s eyebrows shot up, very obviously startled. He gave me one of those classic Alex Fleming looks and said, “Sara? Who is Sara?’”

  “Oh? And what did you say?” She returned to chewing her nail.

  “I told him that Sara was my personal assistant, but wasn’t able to attend this evening’s event.” He plucked the thumb out of her mouth once more. “After a moment Fleming said, ‘Oh, yes, the little red head. I didn’t realize her name was Sara.’”

  She pictured the scenario, seeing Alex’s expression clearly in her mind’s eye, his brow crease as he struggled to place name and face.

  “I just dropped it at that point, knowing that he was referring to Emily, and I wasn’t about to correct him.”

  “Hmm,” she said.

  “Yes. Very curious, though, the way he jumped at the name,” Ian said, cocking his head to one side as he recalled the incident. “Oh well, I suppose we’ll never know why,” he shrugged.

  He got up and walked over to the bar, preparing to pour a night cap.

  “How did he look?” She tried to make it sound casual.