Months pass, months of chaos. The days all meld together. Time slips away. You miss holidays, but so does she. You celebrate Christmas in January.
You book your first movie. It’s one of those teen romantic comedies. You play the best friend. No more Guy #3 or Heroin Dealer. Your character has a name—Greg Barlow. It films locally. She visits you on set a few times, but you're both so busy that she can only stay a few minutes.
The movie wraps on your second Dreamiversary. You take her out to celebrate, but every penny you earned from the movie went to reimbursement, so celebrating entails hanging out in a park together.
“Do you still love me?” she asks, sitting across from you at a picnic table. You’re holding her hands, gently stroking her skin with your thumbs.
“Of course I do.”
“More than everything?”
“Anything,” he says. “Why are you asking?”
“I just miss hearing it,” she says.
You stare at her. It’s been awhile since you’ve said it. It wasn’t intentional. Life just gets crazy, but she understands. Even writing time has been scarce. Whenever she gets the chance, her thoughts are a jumbled mess, the words a blur. The poetry is all gone. The metaphors. The symbolism. They’ve disappeared. It’s all become a hazy mass of stripped-down syllables on paper.
“I love you,” you say. “More than everything in this park. More than every line of dialogue I’ve ever spoken. More than I love Hollywood. Is that still enough, K? My love?”
She smiles. “Of course.”
You don’t know this, but that woman? Even as she smiles, she’s utterly terrified. Your love is more than enough for her, but she feels pieces of it slipping away. Something inside of her is disintegrating. Her dream. She’s losing it. She came here with you, not quite realizing what you were going through. You felt invisible, and you were desperate for an audience, but where does that leave your love? Because the more people who see you, it seems, the less you see her. And she can’t even tell her story now, not the way she wants, because her voice has been stolen and no one will ever get the chance to read her words.
Chapter 23
KENNEDY
Marcus stares at me.
He stares. And stares. And stares.
An awkward silence fills the office, thick and suffocating. It’s just after dawn. Nobody else is here yet. I wanted to do this before anyone showed up, thinking it would be easier, but no… awkward.
He keeps staring.
“So, yeah,” I mumble. “That’s it.”
I put in my two-week notice.
How I’m going to last that long, I don’t know. It’s Monday morning, and the rumors had all weekend to spread. The video went viral in the first twenty-four hours. The guy, it turns out, works for Hollywood Chronicles.
Marcus clears his throat and says, “I’d like it if you’d reconsider.”
“I know,” I say, “but there’s just no way it’ll work out.”
I can tell from his expression that he isn't happy, but it’s for the best, and deep down, he knows it. Already, there’s a police cruiser positioned in the parking lot, a new sign on the store door that says ‘customers only’.
“This whole thing will die down, you know,” he says, waving toward the open office door. “They’ll get bored and go away.”
“I know, but still… it’s time.”
Time for me to figure out what the heck I want to do with the rest of my life, because this isn’t it. This was never the ‘something special’ my parents wanted for me, nor was it my dream.
“Fair enough,” Marcus says. “I’m disappointed, but I won’t pretend to be surprised. I knew we’d lose you someday. Just hoped I’d be retired by the time you came to your senses.”
“Tough break.”
“It is,” he says, waving me away, dismissing me—just like that. I slip out of the office and head to the back stockroom to get a jumpstart on work, pulling my phone out as I walk. So many notifications. So many missed calls. I clear them all and send Jonathan a text. Any way you can get Maddie to school this morning?
His answer comes quickly. Sure.
I stare at his response before adding: WITHOUT assaulting any reporters?
See, now we’re going to need to have a talk about these unrealistic expectations.
You’re totally right. What was I thinking, expecting you to be civilized?
I really don’t know. But don’t worry. I’ll get her to school… by any means necessary.
He adds a grinning devil and a water gun emoji to his message, so I send him back the rolling eyes one in response.
Time ticks by.
I work on inventory.
I hear people moving around the store after opening, but nobody bothers me. I know it’s coming, though. It’s only a matter of time.
Nine o’clock comes, I text Jonathan. Did you get her to school okay?
Define ‘okay’.
Nobody got punched and nobody cried.
Does the teacher’s aide count?
What the…?
You punched the teacher’s aide???
No, she cried. Asked for an autograph. Big fan of mine.
I send another rolling eye emoji before pocketing the phone. I try to focus on work after that, but I’m too distracted.
Ten o’clock comes, I text Jonathan again. Did she eat breakfast?
The teacher’s aide?
Maddie. Did she eat this morning?
Oh yeah, a bowl of Lucky Charms.
Satisfied, I go back to inventory, but it doesn’t last long.
Eleven o’clock comes, I send yet another text. She remembered to brush her teeth, right? Sometimes, she forgets.
No response.
Instead, the phone rings.
He’s calling me.
I answer it. “Hello?”
“Don’t you have something else you’re supposed to be doing instead of playing twenty questions with me this morning?”
Sighing, I perch myself on one of the crates. “Unlike you, I can multi-task.”
“She brushed her teeth,” he says. “Brushed her hair, too. And she wore some kind of one-piece thing. A jumper? Romper? Blue, maybe? Might’ve been black.”
“And she remembered her backpack?”
“Of course,” he says with a laugh. “Even put shoes on before we left the apartment.”
“Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of questions, but ugh, I’ve always been around in the mornings. This is the first time I wasn’t there to fix her breakfast or tie her shoes.”
“She was fine,” he says. “When I woke her up, I told her you had to get to work early, so she got Daddy. And I’m pretty sure, when I dropped her off, she still had all her fingers and toes.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I should get some work done now. I’ll see you in a while.”
I hang up, getting back to work when there’s a knock on the door. It slowly opens, and Bethany appears, hesitating right outside. She says nothing at first. She stares at me like Marcus did. Staring, and staring, and staring…
“Did you need something?” I ask.
She shakes her head as the stifling silence from the office weasels its way in here. “I was just…”
“Just what?”
“Just… is it true? Like, seriously, he was at your apartment?”
“Yes.”
Her expression flickers with hurt. “You know Johnny Cunning? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I did tell you,” I say. “I even told you he said hello the other day.”