On the other hand, there was a chance—a slim chance—that Haley would refuse Allen’s offer. Then what? If she chose Marc over Allen’s career opportunity, that would put a damper on Allen’s plans; more than a damper, really. It would smother any possible chance of Allen and Haley’s future together.
No, Allen simply could not let that happen. He’d have to redirect Haley’s focus. Or perhaps redirect Marc’s focus away from Haley. It would take some creativity to break the couple up, but Allen was a film script writer—that’s what he did for a living! Create ideas. And execute them. Yes, that would be Plan B. If Haley didn’t come on her own, Allen would orchestrate some motivation to help guide her to the right decision—joining Allen in Los Angeles as a pupil and his future wife.
Allen’s Mercedes hit a pothole, jarring his focus from his devious plans back to the road with more holes than Blackburn, Lancashire. Thumping along the concrete chewed away by too much salt, he passed quaint houses with friendly picket fences and neglected tire swings swaying in the bitter breeze. It was nothing like Los Angeles where people lived in apartments or cramped houses, fighting traffic and avoiding bad neighborhoods. Would he ever have a place to call home with Haley? If this laid-back atmosphere was her life—a life that perhaps she loved—would she ever settle for someplace different? It was at that moment as he pulled up to a pitch-black empty house, where he and a month’s worth of clothes adequately fit into a meager single-bed room, when he realized he was truly alone. He was in love with Haley Louise Montgomery, but he might never have her, no matter how much he fought. For she was in love with Marc Vincetti, a vital part of her world here.
Chapter 26
The mailbox was stuffed more than usual for a Saturday. At least three days’ worth of ads, coupons, and bills were crammed into the spruce green metal box with a broken red flag that had at one point matched her green shutters. Time and weather had changed that, though.
Haley hastily gathered up the mail before heading into the house. Several sheets of advertisements escaped her grasp and flittered to the wet ground below. With a dramatic roll of her eyes that no one would see, she bent down and collected everything, then treaded up her front walkway, feeling the slushy ice mixture seeping through her shoes and socks to her toes.
She didn’t care about the sopping mail.
Or her frozen feet.
All she cared about was what waited for her on the other side of the door. On her answering machine. She wanted a message from Marc. Anything to show that he thought of her, cared, anything.
Timidly pushing open the front door, her machine stared back at her from its place on the kitchen counter. Lo and behold, a bold yellow “1” awaited her. Still clutching the stack of snow-drenched mail, she pressed the button.
“Hi… crackle… wanted to see… crackle… you’d want to… crackle… really need… crackle… talk…” Dead silence. The voice was indiscernible due to the heavy static on the other end, but it was male, nonetheless. Apparently the caller had lost his signal. If her machine had feelings, she would have told it a thing or two, but instead she saved the message and debated whether to call Marc or not. If it wasn’t him, she’d seem overeager. If it was him and he didn’t know the message got cut off, he’d think she wasn’t interested if she didn’t call. Haley had never been much of a gambler… but it wasn’t too late to start, was it?
Maybe some ice cream would aid in the decision. She tossed the handful of papers and envelopes on the kitchen counter, and a large yellow manila envelope dropped out of the pile onto the floor. When she picked it up and examined the label, she saw no return address and no postage; nothing but her name and address written in perfectly scripted handwriting. Odd. Her usual anonymous writer always used standard envelopes, not manila. And while the handwriting definitely looked familiar, it didn’t match the fluid style she knew so well. She couldn’t pinpoint where she’d seen it before.
Curiously peeling off the adhesive binding, she tore it open.
She slowly reached inside, searching for the contents with her fingertips. She pulled out a second smaller, thick envelope from within, along with a letter. She read the letter first:
Dear Haley,
I wanted you to know how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know you as a fellow writer and as a friend. You are an amazing individual, among the most creatively brilliant that I know. That is why I am offering you this opportunity.
Perhaps it feels somewhat premature for me to offer you this before you’ve completed the last class. But it didn’t take me long to see your potential, Haley. I have watched you grow as a writer, and you have not only impressed me with your talent, but you’ve earned this more than any other. As you know, I planned to select one individual from the class to accompany me to a Hollywood premier. Out of all your classmates, you are the one most deserving of this opportunity. Every aspect of your growth has proved time and again that you love what you do and are passionate about a future in this industry. That’s what I was looking for all along.
Enclosed you will find one airplane ticket to Los Angeles. This ticket is specifically for a trip to a Hollywood event that all the most prominent movie writers, producers, and directors will be attending. You belong among us, Haley. I believe you are ready to move forward in your career. I hope you see your potential as I do, and seriously consider this opportunity.
Though I’m sure you would have hoped for more time to consider, the flight leaves this upcoming Sunday, the day after our last class together. If you choose to accept the invitation to join me at this event, I will look forward to working with you for years to come. If you choose not to, may you find happiness and fulfillment in all you do.
I’m honored to have known you and worked with you, no matter how short the time.
Allen Michaels
Haley stood transfixed, reading and re-reading the letter, dumbfounded. The dreamlike moment was how she imagined it would feel if she’d won Publisher’s Clearinghouse. Had she spent more time thinking about it, she probably would have thought it odd that the final projects had apparently counted for nothing, since hers was still saved on her computer waiting for the last few changes before turning it in next week. She didn’t have enough space in her brain to consider that, though. She had only one week and a day to decide her fate.
There were two options. If she left, she wouldn’t come back. Hence, she would probably never see Marc again. Or she could stay and pursue a life with Marc and kiss her dreams and ambitions good-bye. So which was more important—love or success?
She went to tuck the letter back in the envelope when she felt something else. There was another piece of paper. And it felt thick. Something was inside.
She pulled out a plane ticket that was wedged inside and a ticket to a Hollywood premier. Turning them both over in her hands, she studied them. They seemed legit. This was actually happening. Everything was coming together as she had once hoped it would.
As a young woman, this day was what she had journalled about for so many years. Now she was an adult with adult decisions to make. With the choice here in front of her, she didn’t know if this was what she wanted. The timing couldn’t have been worse. She was still getting to know Marc, and so far, her feelings for him were growing deeper. She wasn’t sure she wanted to leave.
Oddly enough, when the whole screenplay writing venture was stifled in a dream, it felt right. But the birth of a realization that she would actually live a life of last-minute meetings and premiers, while hibernating until a script was complete… Was this what she had chased for so long?
The more she stared at that plane ticket, the more uneasy she felt about the whole thing. There was no guarantee of how long she would be gone. A loitering insecurity told her that perhaps she wasn’t ready for this step, that she should wait until she had a little more experience under her belt. If she left, she’d be passing up Marc. If she stayed, she’d be giving up her dream. Would she ever get a second chance at Hollywood… or Marc?
Secure in her vegetative state, she scooped spoonful after spoonful of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream into her mouth until she hit the bottom of the container. Now that her stomach ached, and the Seinfeld rerun no longer provided the comedic distraction she needed, it was time to do something else. Haley didn’t feel like writing anymore—her hand was sore from last night’s journaling—and she lacked the energy needed to spill out all these new developments and choices to her mom.
Pushing herself up off of the couch, she had an idea. She darted up the stairs to her office and threw open the lid to the window seat that stored a hodge-podge of odds and ends and memorabilia. After a second or two of digging, she found what she was looking for—her Canon EOS with an exchangeable 50mm 1:1.4 lens. Right where she had last stored it.
Throwing the thin black leather strap over her shoulder, she ran down the stairs, skipping every other step. Within a couple of minutes, she was driving down Main Street, where two-feet-high piles of slush had been plowed aside. She passed through one set of lights, then the second, looking for the sharp left turn up ahead. She could drive this route blindfolded.
More recently, as tension harbored inside her, she found her latest hobby to be the perfect source of relaxation. By the time she arrived at her destination and left her car near the berm of the road, the sky had darkened to a midnight blue and the moon glowed brightly overhead, guiding her steps. She found her familiar spot and pulled out the black leather pouch that still had remnants of dust on it. Before she had only come here to relax, but now she came out of necessity.
She sat in her usual spot and retrieved the camera from the case. Normally she would have brought her tripod for an evening landscape shot, but she hoped her wide-angle fast lens would suffice tonight, with the aid of the celestial bodies above. She used her pocketknife to pry off the lens cover that always seemed to stick, put the viewing lens up to her eye, and found her target up ahead.
It was the perfect picture where the sky met the earth. Even in its darkness, the distant glow of Erie, Pennsylvania, illuminated the horizon enough to reveal that distinct place where land ended and the heavens began. Clicking picture number one, then number two, Haley felt the tension release with each shot. Adjusting the angle, she refocused, then snapped a few more. The whir of the shutter was the only sound to be heard. The cold air invigorated her as she captured a frozen snapshot of life. Her hot breath left a mist in the night air, barely visible in the faint glow. Sure, it felt crazy to be out in the dark taking pictures, but it was part of living in the moment for Haley, the new Haley. The Haley that decided life didn’t have to be dull and boring and conventional.
After one roll of film, she reached for a second and found her case empty. Though she was only halfway to feeling better, she stood erect from her crouched position and crunched along the gravel path to her car. She rarely shared her love of photography with anyone, but she would make an exception just once more. For Marc wasn’t just anyone. He was special.
Though it felt hasty to throw away Allen’s offer, nurturing her relationship with Marc seemed more important. With her night now planned, she’d spend the evening picking out the perfect picture to give Marc. One for his dining room.
Being outside tonight, consumed by the endless blackness, was a nice reprieve. Fresh air always seemed to clear her head. She decided two things as she stood there: One, that she would call Marc. And two, that she would put off Hollywood. For now, at least.
Chapter 27
As the week passed, the talk of the town had been the weekend Ice Festival—but Haley hadn’t gotten irritated with it yet. Heck, she was looking forward to it. This year would be one for the books. She had a date.
As she meandered the perimeter of the Ice Festival grounds, searching the area for anything of interest, she watched volunteers apply tasteful light decorations, set up their booths serving food dishes and pastries, and gather and position the wood for the bonfire. Though in years past Haley had managed to avoid the Ice Festival volunteer draft, this year she stepped forward on her own. Being among the charitable donors of time, Haley’s efforts were dedicated to taking press pictures to accompany the latest articles promoting the big event.
The last of the setup crew was dispersing. Though it was early evening, a quarter past five o’clock, the winter sky was already dark. Haley packed her camera in its case and waved a quick good-bye to her fellow workers. She nearly floated over dirty slush puddles all the way to her car as she thought about tonight’s date with Marc and mentally selected which outfit to wear for a brisk night of romance. Though typically one wouldn’t consider the sub-freezing temperatures of the outdoor event romantic, the Ice Festival had its charm. The smoky smell of a roaring bonfire and the twinkling stars dotting the sky would be the perfect setting for such an anticipated moment. Yes, tonight would be the night—their first kiss. Something inside her just knew.
She shook off her soaked boots before stepping into the car. Cranking up the defroster, she targeted the heat on her window, then onto her frozen feet. She still had a couple of hours to spare before tonight’s date. A reminder haunted her, something she had avoided taking care of all week and earlier that day at her final screenplay class. When Allen approached her after class to talk about flight arrangements for tomorrow, she politely brushed him off and told him she’d call him, then rushed out of the classroom. Something inside her told her not to cancel on him in person, and she heeded the warning.
Over the course of the week he had called her house five times, each time leaving a message about transportation arrangements and what to pack and their itinerary upon arrival. Obviously he still assumed she was going with him, for who in their right mind would pass this up? No one, unless they were an idiot. She didn’t want to be reminded of just how stupid this might prove to be.
Tomorrow Allen would leave without her. She had to let him know of her decision—now. Her fingers searched the corners of her purse for her cell phone and she dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Hello, this is Allen.”
“Hi, Allen. It’s Haley.”
“I assume you’re calling about tomorrow.” Ugh. He sounded so excited; she hated to drop the bomb on him like this. “Are you packed?”
“Well, that’s what I am calling about.”
Breathe, she commanded herself.
“This doesn’t sound too good on my end,” he said with apparent reserve.
Just tell him—fast and painless, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
She inhaled deeply and swallowed the remnants of uncertainty. “I feel awful doing this, but I’ve thought about your offer and I’ve decided to stay here.”
“Tell me this is a joke.”
“No, no joke. I’m so sorry, Allen, but Los Angeles isn’t my calling.”
Silence.
“May I ask what changed your mind.” It was more of a statement than a question.
What did it matter? It was her decision, period.
“A lot of things.”
“Is it because of Marc?”
“Uh… what?”
“Just tell me the truth, Haley. You’re staying back—or should I say holding yourself back—for a guy. A guy who doesn’t love you.”
Now he stepped way over the line; she had no choice but to put him in his place.
“Allen, I think that’s for me to figure out.” She had to admit, it wasn’t the best start to shutting him up, but she was only getting started. “And yes, I did m
eet someone that I really care about, and I feel it’s more important right now for me to commit to this relationship instead of to a job. I know that sounds dumb, but it’s just something I have to do. Not that it’s any of your business.”
The moment the words came out, she chastised herself for being so open; she didn’t owe him any explanation. Allen didn’t care about her and Marc; he had his own agenda and was basically judging her decision. Why didn’t she just keep her mouth shut?
“A job?” Allen retorted, the word eeking with disgust. “This isn’t just any job, Haley, and you know it. And it’s more than a career path. It’s a dream come true. A dream you only get one chance at living out. A dream that others would die for.”
“I’m sorry, but I hope you understand,” she said finally, not wanting to make more waves. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Allen. I hope you know that. But my dreams have changed.”
The line was so quiet that she thought perhaps he had already hung up on her. Then he spoke up.
“Do you love Marc?” he asked point-blank.
“I don’t think we should be talking about this. This is my personal life, Allen.”
“I think we should,” Allen replied. “You wait until the day before we’re supposed to leave to bring this up, and now it’s too late for me to find another student to take your place. You owe me more than a ‘thanks but no thanks,’ Haley.” She wondered how Allen managed to keep his voice calm and monotone while he verbally slapped her.
“Fine. You want an answer, then yes, I do love Marc. And we both want to see where this leads. If I go with you, I’ll never know. Does that make sense to you? I mean, haven’t you ever been in love? If you knew this feeling, you’d know love is worth giving up everything else.”
“Perfect sense,” he hissed. “And yes, I’ve been in love, but apparently not loved back.” While he was thinking of her while he said it, Allen hoped Haley didn’t pick up on that.
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