by Zack Love
Evan couldn’t believe his ears. He might as well have been hallucinating.
“I’ll be in town for a week, and then I have some meetings in LA for four days, but I’ll be back after that for a good month, except for a few short trips to Providence for college stuff.”
Evan kept staring at her, as if in a trance.
Delilah was amused by the stupefied expression on Evan’s face.
“Are you OK, Evan?”
He snapped out of his daze. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that…When you mentioned Providence I just started thinking about my college days.”
“Did you go to Brown?” Delilah asked excitedly.
“Yes, I did. Class of ’93.”
“How funny! What a small world!” she exclaimed.
They spent the next forty minutes discussing courses and professors at Brown College, the various bars and hangouts in Providence, and how their respective college years had been similar yet different.
Over dessert, Evan brought out his ace in the hole: “You probably didn’t guess this, but I’m also part Czech.”
And with that Delilah’s face lit up again. “Really?” she said in Czech. “Say something to me!”
“My Czech is a bit rusty,” he began in Czech. “I studied it for just two years, but I love the language and wish that I had more opportunities to practice it…” In the two years since he first ran into Delilah at Float, Evan had been regularly brushing up on his Czech language skills with a variety of grammar books and language tapes. “I spent the summer after Brown in Prague and really want to go back,” he continued.
“That’s so wonderful!” she replied in Czech. “The Czech-Brown-College film-making team must celebrate!” she said, full of verve and joy. Evan could not have been more elated by how well his two years of preparation were paying off. “Do you need to be anywhere tonight?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, once again amazed at how unpresumptuous the starlet was about her importance to anyone else.
“Would you like to join me for some cocktails at my place? I’d love to hear more about your Czech roots and your time in Prague…Maybe you could even read me some pages from your novel, too.”
Barely able to speak, and stiffening his entire body as much as possible to avoid exploding ecstatically all over the restaurant, Evan answered with a simple, “Sure.”
During the next week, Evan practically moved in to Delilah’s enormous, stylish loft, except for a few hours, when he went back to his place to hand his Afghan Hound over to his neighbor and pick up his toiletries and some clothes. He worked on her computer incessantly, taking breaks only to join her for a meal occasionally. He slept in a guest room, even though Delilah had invited him to cuddle after their third night together. From their first meeting at the Greek restaurant, it was clear that Delilah liked Evan. During the days and nights that followed, when they were at her place, she often let her arms or hands come to rest on his shoulder, arm, or leg, as he read his work aloud to her or they talked about one thing or another. Such unexpected contact made Evan’s heart jump each time, and left him tongue-tied. Still insecure about his bald hairdo, Evan produced a recent picture of himself with hair. “You’re very handsome even without hair,” she told him.
But despite their comfortable and increasingly intimate rapport, Evan could bring himself to do no more than lightly kiss Delilah on the lips or her hold her hand. He suffered from what psychologists might term “idol impotence”: the inability to become sexual with that which one deifies, for fear of disappointing or defiling it. His unqualified apotheosis of Delilah Nakova, which only intensified as he spent more time in her presence, also ensured that he could never truly be himself around her. He was always, in one way or another, in awe of her and unsure of himself.
She, on the other hand, couldn’t figure out what she was doing wrong. At the age of twenty, with a fairly conservative upbringing followed by a protected celebrity existence, she had had only two boyfriends in her entire life. But neither of them, nor any of her thousands of suitors, had ever showed such difficulty displaying physical affection for her. This unintended refusal by Evan only made Delilah desire him more. Suddenly, she was around someone who didn’t seem to respond to her as a sex symbol and who was apparently – and actually – unattainable. No matter how obvious she made her interest in him, he continued to behave in a sexually indifferent and somewhat distant manner. Evan had unwittingly but rather effectively exercised “the power to reject.”
The difficulties produced by idol impotence naturally complicated Evan’s progress on the screenplay he needed to write for her, and this made it even more difficult for him to concentrate. He knew that their relationship was severely imbalanced, but he had no idea how to correct the problem and was terrified of openly admitting that he felt so inadequate in her presence, lest she start to believe him. He thought his mortal inferiority was already painfully obvious every time she introduced him to her friends, most of whom were Hollywood VIPs and celebrities.
“This is Evan Cheson,” she would say. “He’s a brilliant New York novelist and he’s writing the screenplay for my next project. It’s a wonderful story and I’ve never been so excited about a script!”
“That’s fabulous, Evan! Congratulations!” the person would say. “What have you published?”
“Nothing…Yet,” he would answer reluctantly.
“Oh, OK. And how’s the script coming along?”
To which Evan would have to reply, with a stiff throat, “Very well, thanks. It’s definitely a work in progress, but I’m hoping to finish it in a few weeks.”
“Wow. That’s impressive,” they would add, before moving right back to Delilah. And as the conversation turned to a possible movie deal, a big charity dinner, a great newspaper review, a potential TV interview, or any number of other items of interest in the life of a movie star still in college, Evan’s thoughts soon focused on how the only reason that anyone thought anything of him was the fact that Delilah Nakova was waiting for him to finish a screenplay that he had no idea how to write.
Chapter 35
The Porn Star and Relationship Expert
During the four days that Delilah was in LA, Evan called each member of the posse for advice. Everyone was wowed that Evan was practically dating Delilah Nakova, and reassured him that things would work themselves out in time. But Evan realized that these discussions were more for venting and sharing than getting any useful advice, since no member of the posse had ever been in a similar situation. Evan did, however, cling to the faint hope that Narc might have some helpful tips, since he was the most sexually uninhibited member of the posse and he had some understanding of what it was like to be a film personality.
Narc had even been hit on recently by a Japanese expatriate in New York who had recognized him after watching one of his porno films with her underperforming boyfriend. Narc’s popularity would only increase during his hair-growing production break. His six porn titles, each released in late March, were already winning a substantial audience among Tokyo couples, where his films were first introduced in English with Japanese subtitles. Narc’s catchy, pseudonymous actor name “Tiger Dong” sat well with Japanese viewers and his most popular film was “Sushi Love.” Specifically targeted to the Japanese market, the film featured Narc’s exploits at a sushi bar, where he played a straight-laced employee who takes sporadic breaks from preparing sushi rolls to commit a bewildering variety of sexual acts with every colleague and customer, all of whom are, naturally, comely women happy to spread their legs next to raw fish.
On several Japanese porn sites, Tiger Dong is hailed as “the new, stunningly handsome, American hope for Asian porn stars” and his films are reviewed as “excellent arousal material for couples with troubles.” But one man’s website review warned fans that if their wives watched Tiger Dong’s movies with them, they risked being made to feel inadequate by comparison to the images of the long lasting and well-endowed Tiger Dong. To Narc’s del
ighted surprise, female college students from Tokyo and Hong Kong began sending him fan mail with naked pictures of themselves attached.
So it was no surprise that Narc, who was beginning to feel like something of a celebrity himself, couldn’t exactly understand what was holding Evan back when it came to Delilah Nakova. “Why don’t you just bone her and get it over with, yo?” he asked.
“Please, Narc. Don’t use the term ‘bone’ when you’re referring to her.”
“What’s the big deal? She’s a honey like any other. A smokin’ hot honey, but a honey no less.”
“Narc, this is Delilah Nakova we’re talking about. She’s not a smokin’ hot honey. She’s heaven on earth. A living angel.”
“You need to chill out on that, bro. ‘Fer-real. Just get it over with and you’ll see that she’s human like the rest of ‘em.”
“But I can’t. I can’t just do that. Sleeping with her would somehow put her in the same class as the scores of women before her.”
“Yeah, it would mean that you liked her enough to sleep with her, just like with the others. Whasso bad about that?”
“But that’s just the point…I like her infinitely more than that…To the point that she’s no longer within my sexual reach.”
“You are buggin’ out, Evan.”
“I know…I know…I’ve got problems,” Evan said, pacing wildly in his apartment with his cordless phone.
“Why don’t you try smokin’ some herbalz with her? That’ll chill you two out some.”
“I can’t do that, Narc. And what if I didn’t perform up to her expectations? It would be a disaster for our relationship, and for me. I mean, what if the sex is bad?”
“Just plug in one of my videos bro. It seems to be working for a lot of other couples, so I don’t see why it couldn’t work for the two of you.”
“Narc, you’re completely fucking warped. How the hell did we stay friends all of these years?”
“Basketball and booty.”
“All right, but can you just try to understand my situation here?”
“I’m tryin’. I think the bottom line is that you’ve got this girl on a mile-high pedestal.”
“No, I don’t, Narc. This has nothing to do with what I think of her. It all really stems from the indisputable fact that she’s the most beautiful, kind, charming, and intelligent woman walking the earth right now.”
“She’s just a honey, Evan. Like all the others you’ve been with.”
“No she’s not, Narc. And that fact is constantly staring at me in small, everyday ways.”
“Like how?”
“Like the fact that we take her limousine everywhere and are always ditching the paparazzi.”
“What else?”
“Like the fact that she’ll call me up from some major film meeting at some snooty ass restaurant like Lotus, inviting me to join her for dinner. I mean, I never dated anyone who even ate regularly at a place like Lotus for God’s sake. And then I can’t even fuckin’ get in because there’s a twenty-minute line monitored by doormen with more attitude than a room full of fashion editors. And then her cell phone doesn’t get reception inside so that she doesn’t know that I’ve been waiting for her outside for fifteen minutes, while some big producer tries to cap her upfront acting fee at five million dollars for her next blockbuster.”
“I hear you, bro. And, now that I’m thinking about it a bit more, with all of that context you just gave me, I think you should just dump her.”
“What do you mean?” Evan asked in alarm.
“You know these celebrity relationships almost never work out. And given that she’s the celebrity in this relationship, she’s gonna be the one dumping you. So I suggest you take the initiative and be the dumper. Before you become the dumpee.”
“You’re suggesting that I dump Delilah Nakova?”
“And look at how impressive it sounds! Doesn’t it sound so much better to be the guy who dumped Delilah Nakova than the guy who got dumped by her?”
“This is crazy.”
“But I still think you should bone her first. I mean, talk about bragging rights! You’d deserve a PhD yo’.”
Evan’s voice grew angry and insulted. “What did I tell you? Don’t ever use the word ‘bone’ again when Delilah is involved. Understand?”
“Yo, I got a lil’ loose with the language. Sorry, bro’. But chill out a little. Have a joint.”
“You’re high right now, aren’t you?” Evan asked, still annoyed but more forgiving, after realizing that Narc had been stoned throughout their call.
“A little puff or three, nothing major. Bro, you could really use some too. With her. It’s the only way to make it happen with all of this baggage you’ve got. Just trust me on this and smoke up some herbalz together, and it’ll be all good. Who knows? Maybe you won’t need to dump her after all, although I really think that’s your best long-term move, given her celebrity status.”
“Thanks, Narc. You’ve been really helpful,” Evan said, as he rolled his eyes and hung up the phone.
Chapter 36
Lost…
The seventeen days that followed Delilah’s return from LA were a torturous and depressing hell for Evan.
He had become convinced that the only way he could possibly be worthy of Delilah Nakova was if he wrote her a screenplay that she absolutely admired. So he wrote feverishly and incessantly, sixteen hours a day, for all seventeen days, trying to produce just the right draft for her to read. Each morning, at 9 a.m., he would quickly review the screenplay that he had finished at 3 a.m. the prior night, and conclude that it was garbage and not true to his novel or what Delilah wanted. And then he would proceed to crank out an entirely new version of the same screenplay so that Evan effectively wrote seventeen versions of the same screenplay in seventeen days. He slept only six hours per day, leaving only two hours per day of “quality time” with Delilah.
When Evan joined Delilah for a private meal, a ride in her limousine, or, on rare occasions, a more public activity, he reassured her that he was making good progress and didn’t need any help working through anything. He did his best to conceal his chronic distress, fearing that she might conclude that he wasn’t up to the task. On the seventh day, when he snapped at her for asking to see his work, she gently offered to have a friend of hers, who was a top Hollywood screenwriter, help him out, or even join the project as a co-writer, if it would help Evan’s progress at all. But that suggestion went to the very root of his insecurity: the fear that he just didn’t have the necessary talent to be truly worthy of Delilah.
And the more he labored under this conviction, the more impossible the challenge seemed, and the less worthy he felt of her. Meanwhile, Delilah was gradually willing to risk being seen with him in public, as she grew into the idea that he was her boyfriend. After all, she reasoned, she really did like him, she had no other male interest at the moment, he was effectively living with her and working intensely on her passion project, and they did occasionally hold hands or kiss lightly. This, she assumed, qualified him as her boyfriend. Evan, on the other hand, was terrified of being seen with her in public, fearing such exposure would prompt people to question why she was with a “nobody” like him, which would, he assumed, cause her to second-guess her decision to be with him.
After Evan’s tenth day of work on the screenplay, Delilah again asked to read what he had written so far. He managed to convince her that he couldn’t let anyone read a work of his that was still in progress. “It just completely stifles my imagination,” he explained. “I get into this self-censoring mode, because then I start anticipating everything the reader might say to me…Just trust me. I can’t show it now. But I promise. I absolutely promise to have a first draft for you in one week.”
“OK, honey. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” she replied, somewhat concerned but unsure how to deal with the unpredictably complicated psychology of a writer at work.
The night before his promised delivery of a first dr
aft, Evan stayed up all night, downing coffee like water and cranking out the seventeenth version of the screenplay. But by 7 a.m., he was only on page fifty-five, and had serious doubts that it was any better than the previous sixteen drafts.
At 7:45 a.m., when Delilah was still soundly asleep, Evan finally printed out a single page for Delilah to read when she woke up: “Dearest Delilah, I can’t be with you anymore. Please don’t call me. I’m sorry.”
He signed his name at the bottom of the note, left it on his pillow, took his belongings, and quietly crept out of her loft.
Chapter 37
…And Found
Every human relationship begins with a coincidence. Even the most fundamental relationship – that of parent and child – begins entirely with a coincidence. The child is produced by whatever serendipity brought its parents together, and the fact that the child was born to its particular parents instead of to another couple is pure happenstance. Thus, children have no choice over the relationship of greatest concern to their existence.
By contrast, friends and lovers choose each other, but even these choices are reactions to whatever random coincidence made the resulting relationship possible. And despite the undeniable fact that all human relations are partly or wholly created by chance, the initial meeting of two lovers always seems more magically coincidental than all other relationships. This feeling may be nothing more than the relief that two lovers share at the fact that they acted wisely when they could have just easily failed to transform luck into love.
And so it was on May 10, 2001, at 8:15 a.m., when Heeb met Hila.
It was a typically cramped subway commute to work that morning. Sammy was wearing his best suit and tie and needed to exit at the Fulton Street stop (rather than his usual Grand Central stop) for an important presentation at his Wall Street client’s corporate headquarters.