If Ever

by Angie Stanton

  "Hey, what's wrong?" He tilts my face back to his.

  Everything. He left with Barbie. I don't really know him, and I'm so sick, I can't think straight. I try to roll away, but I'm helpless in his gentle hold as tears roll down my cheeks.

  "Please, don't cry, love. It's going to be all right."

  "You left with her and didn't come back," I choke.

  His eyes cloud. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. We had something serious that we had to discuss and I promise to tell you everything when you're feeling better. All that is ancient history."

  "But I thought."

  "I know. But I don't want Barbie. Not now, not ever. I want you."

  And seeing the sincerity in his sky blue eyes is such relief that the floodgates open and I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my gulping sobs.

  "What's wrong?" He pulls me close.

  "I thought we were over," I cry.

  "Why would you think that? It was one misunderstanding. That's all." He says with disbelief.

  "I thought you wanted her. You walked out. You left me. I was alone and you didn't come back or even call."

  "Oh, baby. My phone died and I had a last minute call because a director wanted to see me again." He kisses my forehead and cradles me in his arms. The touch of his chest is solid and warm and everything I need.

  I nestle my head under his chin and place my hand on his heart, letting the heat of his body warm away my chills. My tears soak his shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind. I heave one skittering breath after another as he gently rubs my back. And suddenly I realize how much he's risking his own health.

  "You shouldn't be here, you're going to get sick." I try to edge out of his embrace, but he won't release me.

  He lightly runs his hand along my forehead down to my jaw and gazes at me with such affection I wonder how I could have ever doubted him. "If I get sick, then I get to spend more time with you." He snuggles me closer.

  "I wouldn't wish feeling like this on my worst enemy." I tuck my arms against his chest for warmth.

  "Do you want something to eat?"

  I nod. "But can we stay like this for a while?"

  He kisses my forehead. "Absolutely, but first you need to take more medicine. I picked up some flu meds that are good for fever, aches and pains."

  I know I need it. My whole body aches, but the idea of moving away from him sounds like too much work. He reaches for the pills and water glass. I force them down, my throat still burns. "I'm so cold."

  "Come here." He scoots down and raises the covers.

  Shivering, I attach myself to him like a barnacle. Even sick, I can tell he smells of coffee and deodorant. "You look so good. I feel like death warmed over."

  "And you look it too." His chest rumbles with humor, as he rubs my back.

  I'd like to swat him, but it would take too much energy. And the mesmerizing way he rubs my back, bringing warmth to me, relaxes my muscles to the point I can't keep my eyes open another second.

  When I wake up, Tom is gone and the bed feels lonely. I'm not cold anymore. Sitting up, I slide my legs over the side of the bed.

  "Where do you think you're going?" He appears in the doorway, arms crossed.

  "The bathroom."

  "Oh." He steps aside.

  "And to take a shower. I can't stand myself anymore." I get to my feet and sway, a little dizzy.

  He reaches for my arm. "Let me help."

  "I've got this." I step forward, holding onto the wall for balance.

  Tom frowns as I close the bathroom door.

  I wash my hair twice and scrub myself clean. The warm water sluicing over my skin is heaven, but I have to lean against the shower wall for support.

  "I left you some clothes to change into."

  "Thank you. You can go now."

  "I can tell you feel better, you're bossy." He laughs and clicks the door closed.

  He's right. This is the best I've felt in days. When I'm out of the shower, I notice he left me fresh underwear, yoga pants and his T-shirt. I raise it to my face and inhale his fresh musky scent. He must have just taken it off. I smile and wonder what he's wearing as I slip it over my head and hug the soft fabric.

  "I feel human again," I say finding him in the kitchen ladling soup into a bowl. He's wearing a green hoodie with nothing underneath. Music plays softly in the background and warm afternoon sun shines through the window. "Thank you for the T-shirt."

  He smiles, knowing me all too well.

  I sink into the thick cushions of the couch and look out over the street. People rush by to wherever they're supposed to be, their breath shows as puffs of white.

  He places a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup on the coffee table and sits next to me.

  I want to curl into his side, but I still feel awkward and embarrassed over the Barbie incident and me leaving. "This looks delicious." I blow on my first spoonful, before tasting. The rich broth is nirvana to my taste buds.

  "I've got to head out in a little bit, but I'll be back right after the show." He rubs my thigh as if he too needs the physical connection.

  "You're too good to me."

  "Hardly. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to."

  I set my spoon down and turn to him. "I know that. Seems we both have been doing a bit of that lately. I'm sorry too."

  He smiles sadly, the way people do when they've both been through hell.

  "Why did you go with her?" I ask, hopeful his answer will put me at ease.

  Tom sighs. "I met Barbie at a party about two years ago. She was right out of theatre school and making the rounds of auditions. I'd had a bit of success and I think that's why she latched onto my wagon. We dated a couple months and then when my sublet was up, I moved in with her and another guy. She landed a national tour and moved out. I stayed. As soon as she was out of town, she basically stopped calling. Soon after, I heard she had hooked up with the stage manager. I thought we had something, but clearly we didn't. She was using me for my connections, pestering my agent to take her on, bothering my costars for favors, asking my voice coach for free sessions."

  "But why did you leave? What did she say that made you go with her?"

  He hangs his head and sighs. "She said that she left because she was pregnant. That's all she'd tell me unless I went with her to talk."

  My eyes widen. "Wow."

  "No kidding."

  Barbie didn't look like the maternal type. "And did she have the baby?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

  Tom stands and turns away. "She got rid of it." When he faces me again, his eyes are filled with sadness. He looks away and then adds. "So she could go on tour."

  "I'm so sorry."

  He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I know a lot of guys would be happy not to have to deal with an unplanned kid, but I'm not that guy."

  I'm not sure what to say. It's a horrible thing and he's still feeling the shock.

  He paces the room. "I just can't fathom how she could do that, and then she used the information as a bargaining chip. She's a whack job."

  He stops and looks at me. "That's why I didn't come back right away. I was so frustrated and shocked. I needed time to process."

  "It's okay, you don't have to say any more." Now I feel terrible for jumping to conclusions.

  "Yes, I do. I want you to understand why I didn't at least call you back. As I was headed home, Sean called about a last minute screen test for a movie I'm up for." He pauses and our eyes meet.

  "That's huge, isn't it?" I had no idea, of course, because he keeps his secrets.

  "Yeah. It would be a dream come true. I would have called you, but my phone died while I was talking to Sean. I had to get straight to the studio and had no chance to call."

  "Never mind that. How did it go?"

  "It took all afternoon. The part is between me and another guy, but I was so off my game, I honestly don't remember half of it. Now it's just a matter of time before Sean calls with the bad news."

>   I go to him. "Maybe not. Maybe you're exactly what they want."

  "Maybe. I've got enough irons in the fire, one's bound to hit eventually."

  "I've made such a mess of things."

  "You? I think it was me. Can we put this behind us?"

  "I'd like nothing more." He hugs me, his strong arms warm around my back. I've missed him so much and he feels so safe. I reluctantly release him. “Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you that the other day I got a letter from my dad.”

  He leans back and eyes me. “And?”

  “Actually it was from his lawyer.” I explain what the letter said and give him my take that it was a final action to end his connection to me.

  Tom shakes his head. “Maybe he felt guilty when he found out what happened to you.”

  “I’d like to think so, but somehow I don’t think he’s the sensitive type.” This is the longest I've been awake in days and all this talk is catching up with me. I return to the couch.

  Tom takes my dishes away and returns with a glass of ice water, more medicine, and my phone. "I hate to leave, but I've got to get to work."

  I snatch it. "Where did you find it?"

  "Between the nightstand and bed. It must have fallen during your mad dash to escape," he says lightly, but I sense his hurt. I look at him more closely and see dark circles under his eyes.

  "I'm sorry you had to come over here to take care of me. You're exhausted."

  He gives up a sad smile. "I'm just thankful you're safe."

  44

  With music pumping in my ears and sweat rolling down my back, I up the tension on the treadmill. I didn't have a single workout while Chelsea was gone, not that tearing my hair out with worry didn't burn a few calories.

  Having her take off reminds me of when Max referred to her as a unicorn, easily startled and nearly impossible to catch. Well, now that I have my unicorn back, I want to keep it that way.

  My phone buzzes over the sound of my music, startling me out of my thoughts. I slow the machine and jump off. It's Sean. I've talked to him more this past month than I have the past year. "Hey." I grab my towel and wipe my sweaty face. The workout room is loud, so I collect my water bottle and head into the hall.

  "We have an offer."

  I stop in my tracks. Thank God. "For what?" I've been auditioning for so many parts it could be anything.

  "The movie offer came in about an hour ago."

  "Bloody hell! I thought I bombed the screen test. What took you so long to call?"

  "I touched base with the new musical and they don't want to lose you. They're pulling together an offer as we speak."

  I'm stunned. I rub my towel over my face. "Holy shit."

  Sean chuckles. "You're also on the short list for the lead in the Netflix pilot."

  "How is this possible? I've been at it for months with nothing."

  "They're all finalizing casting at the same time and when I let them know that you're considering multiple projects, they stepped up to the table. So now you've got some big decisions to make."

  I fling the towel over my shoulder and pace the hallway. "And what do I take?"

  "That, my friend, is up to you. With the movie you'll garner enormous exposure, which translates to more work. The musical is a gamble depending on whether it goes to Broadway after the out of town, but if it does, you'll have stability and can stay in New York. And if the series offer comes through, well, you'll be in L.A. for a while with the possibility of a long term contract."

  My mind is reeling. A supporting role in a movie would be great, and I haven't done one since I left the UK. But the new musical is with an acclaimed director with a script I love. While a lead, the role wouldn't be nearly as demanding as my role in Crossing Lines. And what about Chelsea, what would work best for her? "Geez, Sean. I'm going to need some time on this."

  "Take your time, which translates to decide fast. You only have a couple of days. I'll send the offers over so you have all the facts."

  We end the call and I pound my fist in the air and scream a whoop of celebration, gaining me startled looks. I can't wait to tell Chelsea.

  45

  I'm on the phone with Anna talking about my job news when Tom walks in with a bottle of champagne and a euphoric grin. "Hey, Anna. Something’s up here and I've gotta go."

  "I got the movie!" He raises the bottle in the air.

  "The one you thought you bombed?" I set my phone on the counter.

  "Go figure, right?"

  "That's amazing!" I launch myself into his arms and he swings me and the bottle of bubbly in a circle. "I'm so proud of you! Tell me about it." I take the bottle from him as he slips off his coat.

  "Well, there's more. I also landed a new musical."

  "What!"

  "Oh God, it's such a relief, you have no idea." He collapses on the couch. "I can take a break from auditioning. I do have to decide which one to take, but for the moment I just want to wallow in the fact that I know where my next paycheck is coming from, and I'll have some time off when I finish Crossing Lines."

  I grab a couple of glasses from the kitchen and join him. "How long?" I ask, peeling the foil off the champagne and handing him the bottle to open.

  "A couple weeks. Long enough to take you on a proper holiday, like maybe England to meet my family. That is if you don't mind visiting in the dreary winter." He removes the cork to a loud celebratory pop.

  “Um, there’s a slight problem.” Why do things never go my way? I get good news one minute and then something sours it the next.

  “Your passport, I know.” He pours bubbly into each glass and hands me one. “Let’s get working on that ASAP.”

  “Actually, that’s not the problem.” I hold my glass and watch the bubbles roll up the side.

  “Oh?”

  “I have news too.” I nibble the side of my lip. “I got a job with Paige’s husband’s literary agency. I’m going to work in the foreign rights department.”

  “Oh, Chelsea, congratulations!” He sets down his glass and pulls me into his arms. “Everything is coming together perfectly. When do you start?”

  “Soon. They want me to train with someone who will be taking maternity leave.” I’m so excited to be starting a job at something I think I’ll really enjoy.

  “Well, we’ll figure it out. I’ve only got another couple days left of Crossing Lines. We’ll eke out some time between you starting your job and me leaving for mine. Whichever one I decide on.”

  I tense up. "You're leaving?"

  "Of course. I thought you knew that."

  "I assumed you'd be here in New York. Where would you go?"

  "I'm still waiting on the details from Sean, but I think the movie shoots in Vancouver, and the musical is happening in Atlanta."

  I shake my head. Vancouver? Atlanta? We live in New York. "I don't understand. Why isn't the musical being done here in the city?"

  "Hopefully it will be, but first it will be out of town. We'll develop the show for four weeks and then do previews, open, and play for another month or so."

  "So, I'll be here alone?" I look around the apartment as if it's suddenly a bad place.

  "You can come with me. I don't know how long either job is yet, I'd guess at least two months or more. I'll know more by tonight, or certainly tomorrow. I've got to decide in the next day or so."

  “But I’ll have my own job here.”

  “True. It’s almost too bad you got it right now.”

  “But I did get it.”

  Tom's left for work. He only has two performances remaining and then he'll be off for a few weeks. I can't imagine anyone playing the lead in Crossing Lines other than him. His news of the movie and new musical are great, but it has me on edge. I seem to struggle with change whether it's good or bad. I just can't seem to go with the flow.

  Then he texts that the movie is indeed in Vancouver and will shoot for two months unless filming goes over. The new Broadway show is about the same amount of time and he's excited because th
ere's a chance he might be able to do both. This means that he'll be gone twice as long. We'll be apart for months at a time. He'll be surrounded by new people, and I might not seem that interesting any more.

  I'm starting to panic, so I call Anna.

  "But Chelsea, that's all great news."

  "If it's so great, why do I feel like there's an elephant sitting on my chest and I can’t breathe? It's good for Tom, but it isn't good for me. He's going to leave me again."

  "Calm down Drama Queen. He isn't breaking up with you, he's taking a job. And it sounds like some really good ones."

  I pace the apartment going out of my mind. She's right. Theoretically, I know that, but that doesn't alleviate the taste of panic. The idea of him packing his suitcase and walking out that front door time and time again, well, it rings too much like the story of my life.

  "Here's the thing. I know I should be strong and grown up and deal with all this. But you know what it makes me think of? My Mom going to the hospital to die, Gramps going to hospice to die, my dad abandoning me."

  "This is nothing like that."

  "Isn't it? Everyone I know leaves. Everyone." The last person to leave was my college boyfriend. It's been nearly a year, so I guess I'm due again. It's a pattern that continues to repeat itself, and I realize that sometimes I bring this on myself."

  "I'm still here," she says, which is true and I love her for it, but this is different.

  "I had shitty role models. I don't have the skills to be in a relationship long term."

  "Don't say that."

  "And Tom is starting this whole new chapter of his life. A movie! Can you imagine? He's the second lead. That's big time. He'll be too busy for me. He'll outgrow me."

  "Chelsea, stop! You're acting totally irrational."

  "Am I? I'm not so sure." I shouldn't have fallen for an actor. He's charming and handsome. Who wouldn't love him? And he's British. Every woman he meets falls under his spell.

  "Let him know you're nervous about this. Give him a chance."

  "He'll just say what he already has, that we'll work it out."

  "And you will," Anna insists.