by Tabitha Bree
I swallow past the lump in my throat and slowly unfold my arms from my chest. I reach out for Dad, wrapping one arm around him, one around my mom.
“Thank you.”
“Why are you not racing to his house and jumping him right now?”
Sylvia was nearly hyperventilating when I filled her in.
“Because he organized it a couple of weeks ago, before everything turned upside down.”
“So?? The man called your parents—who are intimidating as hell, by the way—and arranged this whole thing so you could have a shot at a relationship with them again. Who cares what’s happened since then? The writing’s on the wall.”
“Oh yeah? And what writing’s that?”
“That he’s in love with you, obviously.”
I swallow my wine. “You don’t know that.”
My phone pings on the floor and I open my emails.
Sylvia rolls her eyes. “Are you seriously going to let the fear of people talking about you get in the way of this?”
“Holy cow.”
“What?”
I look up at Sylvia and pass my phone to her. She reads off the screen. “Hey Evie. Not sure what your plans are for after we wrap, but I’ve got a directing gig on an indie film. Not as big as PN, but decent pay. I’ve put you forward for a PA position. They said they’d be happy to have you. Joel.” She looks at me. “You got a job?”
“I got a job,” I parrot, my eyes wide.
They said it would happen like this… that I’d meet people, get more work through connections. It’s happening. I’m not just going to be a one hit wonder.
It’s actually going to work out.
“If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is,” Sylvia says.
“A sign for what?”
“To go after Adam! What’s holding you back now? You’ve found more work which has nothing to do with him. You can be together, and no one can say anything about it!”
I sit back, grabbing my wine glass and swishing the contents. She’s right. My work with Joel I got on my own merit, and the film is basically done. There’s nothing stopping me and Adam from picking up where we left off.
Except everything.
“There’s just too much water under the bridge.”
I tip the glass toward my mouth, letting the wine soak into my tongue. And I keep tipping until the glass is empty.
“We had our chance. I think it’s time to move on. This is the right thing to do, for everyone.”
Sylvia leans back on her hand, watching me with creases in her perfect forehead.
“Then why do you look so sad?”
34
Adam
The last week of shooting always goes the fastest. It seems like only a second ago that Gus stepped in to take Damon’s place, but the next thing I know we are wrapping on our second last day of filming and I’m on my way home.
The air has turned cooler, but it’s not cold. It never gets cold in LA, and anyone who thinks it does is an idiot. As I reach my condo, I’m overcome with that same feeling I’ve been having the last couple of months—that I don’t want to go in there and spend the rest of my night. Alone.
I go inside, just long enough to go to the refrigerator and grab a carry bag.
The houses along the street have swapped their Halloween decorations for Thanksgiving ones—clusters of pumpkin and squash, maple leaves, turkey statues. I don’t get the showiness of it all. Why do you need to decorate the outside of your house, only to see it for two seconds when you walk through the door? But that’s LA for you. The ‘look at me’ culture is as free flowing as the Botox injections.
“Great, I’m starving,” is all Bob says as I approach him, passing him a stack of containers.
“Tomorrow’s the last day of leftovers. Maybe you’ll finally take me up on the offer of pizza at my place.”
Bob grunts. “You’ve never invited me over.”
I crease my forehead. He’s right. I’ve never invited him over. Probably because I know the invitation would just make us both feel uncomfortable. But it’s getting harder to accept Bob’s rejections of help, except for boxes of leftovers and the odd ten dollars to buy a sandwich. I haven’t cared about many people in my life, but the thought of Bob out here throughout the night bothers me.
“But you know where I live, right?” I say, twisting the top of my bottle.
“I’ve walked past it, once or twice.”
I nod, taking the beer to my lips.
A couple of disheveled youths walk by, yelling and swearing. One of them barks something incoherent at Bob and the youths both laugh, stumbling down the path, off their heads.
“You must get tired of being around all that,” I say.
“Eh, they’re harmless.”
“Yet they chased you away from your original spot.”
He leans forward, scratching at his bare ankle. “Better here than in the trenches.”
I snort. “I don’t think war and homelessness should be your only two options.”
“Yeah? What do you know about it?”
I normally wouldn’t push him this far, but a voice in my head tells me I shouldn’t back down. A voice that isn’t mine. A female voice that says when you care about someone, you help them with their problems.
“I know you’re an old fart who shouldn’t be sleeping on the sidewalk.”
A laugh rumbles out of Bob’s chest, deep and crackly. “I’m Burt Reynolds compared to you.”
“There’s a reference with a little dust on it.” I laugh with him. “I bet those youths that give you grief don’t even know who Burt Reynolds is.”
With the tension dissolved, I reach into my shirt pocket.
“The thing is, I have this squirrel problem.”
“Get a pellet gun.”
“I was thinking it would be easier if I had someone around to scare them off.” I place a key on the blanket next to him. “See, they’re in my granny flat out in the yard.”
Bob looks at the key and up to my face. “And do I look like a granny to you?”
“Kind of.”
We both laugh.
“It’s empty in there, a stupid waste of space.” I take a swig of beer. “You’d basically be doing me a favor.”
“I know what you’re doing,” Bob grumbles.
“Yeah? And is it working?”
He chuckles and scratches at his beard before answering.
“I’ll think about it.”
I wonder if he actually will think about it, but then his hand moves over the key, and he puts it in the little zippered pouch he keeps attached to his belt. The one that contains all his important possessions. I smile into my bottle.
“Whatever happened to your girl?” he says, changing the subject.
I’ve filled Bob in on bits and pieces of the Evie saga. I couldn’t talk to anyone from the film—Dee gave me a lecture whenever her name was brought up—and Bob is basically the only other person I spend time with.
“I think it’s done.”
As I say the words, they drift down my core and settle at the pit of my stomach, hard like cement.
“Why?”
I exhale hard out of my nose.
That’s the million-dollar question. Why throw away a connection like ours? The thing is, I’ve thought a lot about my conversation with George, and everything that’s happened the last few months. My feelings for Evie haven’t changed—she is the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. But it’s always complicated with us, and relationships aren’t meant to be like that. As easy as breathing… that’s what George said.
I sigh, leaning back on my forearm and tapping the side of the bottle with my fingertips.
“It just got too hard. And we’re done with filming after tomorrow. I might not even see her again. Maybe once at a screening. I just feel like… maybe there’s a reason it fell apart. Why push it, ya know?”
I take a long sip, looking out at the street in front of us.
“I thi
nk of your life, and how it’s simple. And I want that too… straightforward, no dramas.” I look at Bob with a half-smile. “Let the chips fall as they may.”
Bob finishes his beer and tosses the bottle to the side. He picks up a fork to dig in to his dinner. But then he points it at me.
“Now listen here, you little shit.”
His tone is so stern that I sit up, my eyes honed on him and the fork pointed at my chest.
“For years I’ve known you now. You come here after a long day, grumbling about the stupid people you work with, annoyed at the posers and phonies in this town. And then you meet a beautiful girl who makes you happy, and you’re running away like a scared little boy.”
“Hang on a second,” I say, putting my beer down. “No one is running anywhere.”
“You talk about how people suck, about how you’d rather be by yourself, but I know you’re a lonely old bastard in that house all alone. Why else would you hang out with an old codger like me on the street?”
“Because we’re friends,” I say, but his words pinch a nerve in my chest.
“Then as your friend, I’m telling you to stop being a moron. You need to go to that girl and tell her how you feel.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why the hell not?!”
“Because I’m scared!”
Our sudden outbursts send us into an awkward silence. I pick at the grass and Bob shakes his head, reaching for the satay noodles.
But it’s true.
I’m scared shitless.
Ever since I saw Evie with Damon in his trailer, I’ve been terrified. Even after I found out it was a misunderstanding, it was too late. It triggered something in me. That feeling of not being good enough, of not measuring up. That fear of failing… of opening myself up to someone who actually had the power to break my heart.
Kimberly was right. I never made myself vulnerable to her. Not once. Not to anyone I’ve ever been with. Evie was the first girl to make me want to give in… to consider the idea of giving my heart away. She was the first person to see right into my soul, and not only that, but she liked what she saw. The way she smiled at me, the way she held me in that hotel room. I knew I could be hers… if I just let myself.
But then I saw her with Damon, and my walls went up… iron strong and twelve feet high. Even the idea that I could let her down, that I wouldn’t be enough, that she would look elsewhere… it scared the shit out of me. Because I don’t know how I could recover if I had her for real… and lost her.
“Listen, boy,” Bob says after a long pause. “I never had any kids of my own, but let me give you some fatherly advice.”
He puts the container down, wiping his hands against each other.
“I know you pretend to be fine alone, but it’s a long old life. Take it from someone who’s been alone for most of his.”
He removes his trucker cap, so I can see his full face properly. Deep wrinkles line his skin from countless life experiences, many he went through on his own.
“When you get to my age, it’s not the things you said or the risks you took that you regret. It’s the things you didn’t say, and the chances you didn’t take. Now I know you have what you need… a job, a home. But it don’t mean squat without someone to share it with. It’s time to find your balls and go tell her how you feel.”
I look at his icy blue eyes.
“What if it’s too late?”
“That’s what being brave is all about! You don’t know what the outcome will be, you just have to jump, and hope for the best. That’s what letting the chips fall really means. Giving it your best shot and then letting it be.”
My heart is thudding away in my chest. Bob is right. I don’t want to end up bitter and alone. Maybe it’s complicated between me and Evie, but it’s worth a shot. And fuck easy.
Some things are worth fighting for.
“I need to make a call,” I say, standing up.
“Eh, go on.” Bob waves me off, returning his attention to the next container.
I walk a few feet away and pull out my phone, bringing up the number I need. And all the while, my mind is racing.
I’ve been playing it safe in my personal life, and look how far it’s got me. I was always the guy who didn’t say how he felt, who shied away from anything cheesy, or extra, or over the top. I hated showiness. But my key exchange with Bob showed me something; that sometimes you just need to push a little harder, be assertive, put your cards on the table.
Sometimes you need to come out, guns blazing. And if you get shot down?
At least you damn well tried.
I bring the phone to my ear and hold my breath as it rings.
“Well, look who it is.”
Dee’s signature sassy voice emits through the speaker.
“Hey, I need to talk to you.”
“We’re all on track for tomorrow, right?”
“This isn’t about the film.”
Dee is quiet on the end for a moment, before she says “Ahhh… I think I know what this is about.” She chuckles. “Go on, you can say it.”
I sigh. I knew I wasn’t going to get through this without a little punishment. “You were right, Dee. About everything.”
“That a boy,” she says, and I can almost see her smug smile through the phone. “And?”
I roll my eyes. “And… I need your help.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she says, a grin in her voice. “Alright. What’s the game plan?”
35
Evie
The sun is barely in the sky when I arrive at the studio for my last day. I got a message last night to come an hour earlier to help with a last-minute set problem, but it appears I’m the only lucky one recruited, as there are hardly any cars here yet.
I step out into the parking lot, adjusting my sunglasses. It’s not bright enough for shades, but that’s not why I need them. I haven’t slept a wink, and my eyes are tired and puffy, exhausted from the last twelve hours.
Sylvia was right. I’m sad. And not because it’s my last day on this set.
It’s my last day with Adam.
In the last three months, we’ve gone from strangers, to colleagues, to friends… lovers… to fighters, to friends again, and now we are here. No-man's-land. Too much history to be strangers again, but not friends either. I obviously hurt him more than I knew with Damon, and there is no going back. I’ve weathered his frostiness and given us space, and now it’s over.
But then there was the thing with my parents.
I pull out my phone, looking at the last text my mom sent me. It’s a picture of the three of us; her, me, and my dad, arms around each other and smiling, standing out the front of the sound stage. George took it for us before they left for San Diego.
I can never thank Adam enough for what he did for me. He reached out to my parents, basically strangers, and made them understand my passion. He brought us together again.
How could he do that for me, but still treat me with such indifference?
I head toward sound stage five, where I’m helping out this morning. I just need to not think about it. Maybe Adam cared about me once, but things are different now. His feelings have changed, and there is nothing I can do about it. If I’ve learned anything in my years of being friendly and bouncy and positive, it’s this.
You can’t make someone love you.
I push through the door and close it behind me.
And I’m enveloped in darkness.
“Hello?” I call out. Did Dee send me the wrong sound stage number? I thought it strange at the time. We haven’t used number five the whole time we’ve been shooting. I actually thought they were shooting a fantasy film in this space.
“Is anyone in here?”
There’s a clunking sound and the room comes to life, but it’s difficult to see at first, because of the haze floating in the air.
“Did someone leave a smoke machine on?” I say, stumbling through the mist and batting it away with my h
ands. And then I see the set.
There’s just one set in the whole sound stage, and it’s sitting right in the middle.
It’s a wonderland.
Enormous trees come up from the floor, covered in moss and entwined with sparkling lights. Vines dip and drape between them, zigzagging up to the ceiling which is covered by the mossy canopy, drops of tiny crystals and twinkling beams suspended in the air. The fake forest floor expands all the way to a waterfall, trickling with actual water and surrounded by boulders almost bigger than me. There are toadstools, exotic looking flowers, all illuminated by the most beautiful filtered light, coming from all different directions. In the background, there is even music… a delicate harp and chirping birds. The smoke settles around my ankles and the scene is so beautiful, it takes my breath away.
But it’s not a scene from Primal Nature.
What the heck is going on?
I look around, trying to find another human. “Am I being punked? Is this a prank?”
I hear a chuckle from the side of the room, and someone walks out of the darkness.
Adam.
“I was thinking of more an apology.”
His flannel shirt is rolled up around his forearms, the way it always is. And as the day goes on, he will realize it’s too hot for flannel and take it off, wearing only the white t-shirt he wears underneath. If I got close enough, I would be able to smell his man shampoo, and see the creases at the corners of his eyes, the ones that become more pronounced on the chance I make him smile. If I extend my hand to his face, it will be scratchy around his jaw, the same kind of scratchy I felt against my forehead as I nuzzled into his chest that night.
I know every inch of this man, and I’ve been spending the last week trying to forget it all.
But that was before he was looking at me.
Like this.
“Hi,” he says.
“Howdy.”
I’m too overwhelmed to think of a more appropriate response.
He laughs. And there are those eye crinkles. “Will you come with me?” He holds out his hand, and I take it. It’s like a magnet, there is no use refusing. We walk onto the set, which only becomes more amazing inside. I almost feel like I’m in a real forest.