by Maria Siano
Nothing in it concerned her either.
Whew!
CHAPTER 6
Kyle pulled into an empty parking spot in front of Brew City Espresso and shut off the car. But he didn’t get out. He didn’t have the energy. This constant state of exhaustion had plagued him for days. Since his date with Summer.
He intended to tell her the truth that night. Until it became clear she saw him as nothing but a callous, self-centered actor who would use someone’s health struggles for publicity. And in a panic, the story about his cousin came pouring out of his mouth.
He pushed open the car door and dragged himself through the front entrance of the cafe. He tottered inside and shuffled to the counter to order his usual, a large black coffee, to go. Then he stumbled back to the car and drove the few blocks to his mother’s house.
He pulled into the driveway and parked next to his sister’s car, in front of the garage.
He staggered into the living room but didn’t see anyone. Unable to muster the energy to call out to them, he wandered into the kitchen and put the paper cup full of coffee on the table. He slumped down into the hard wooden chair and stared at the large branches bending just beyond the kitchen window pane.
Vera rushed into the kitchen carrying an armful of towels. As she dropped them on the table, heat radiated toward Kyle.
Five years older and like a second mother to him, Vera seemed to always make herself available to him at just the right time, likely the result of her training as a school psychologist.
And he desperately needed her advice now.
Vera sat and started to fold the towels. "Mom’s at bridge." She didn’t make eye contact with Kyle as she folded a large bath towel.
Kyle grabbed the phone about to fall out of his back pocket. "I forgot that was on Mondays." He placed the phone on the table and rested his hands on top of it. He dropped his chin down on top of his hands. "I had a date with Summer on Saturday."
Vera smiled. "I always liked Summer."
Kyle forced himself to sit up a bit, but still slouched just enough to rest his head against the top of the wooden chair. "I let her go once. I don’t want to lose her again."
Vera started to form piles of folded towels across the round wooden table. "Why would you lose her?"
Kyle shot up in the chair. "I was finally going to tell her I had been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s twelve years ago—"
"But you didn’t...?" Vera stopped folding and frowned.
"It’s worse than just not telling her," he admitted. "I sort of made up a story."
"Tell me what happened." Vera picked up a washcloth from the pile. "Because that doesn’t sound like you." She made two folds in the washcloth. "You’ve always been such a private person — but it’s not like you to lie." She threw the washcloth into a pile.
"I didn’t lie," Kyle explained. "Well, I guess I did. But I didn’t mean to. See, Summer and I have been getting closer in the past few months —"
"I was so happy to see you were getting back with Summer." Vera interrupted. Her eyes widened. "I still don’t know why you ever let her go all those years ago." She picked up another dish towel from the pile in the center of the table.
Kyle threw his head back. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know."
Vera dropped the dish towel and playfully lifted her hands. "It was a question, not a criticism."
Kyle propped his head against the top of the chair again. "I’ve been beating myself up for years for ever letting her go."
"So what happened on Saturday?" Vera lifted another dish towel.
Kyle leaned forward. "Summer’s been suspicious about why I visited Faith Sheridan in the hospital. Understandably, I guess. So I started to tell her the truth. But then I panicked. I was afraid she would see me as weak if she knew. I also wasn’t sure if she would reveal it publicly. I didn’t know if I could trust her."
Vera scrunched her eyebrows together. "You definitely have trust issues." Her mouth turned up in the corner. "Would it be so terrible if people knew? I never understood why you’ve been so secretive about your cancer diagnosis."
"I was ready to tell Summer everything." Kyle rubbed his eyes with both hands. "But then she asked me about the fight I had with Patrick Sheridan at the memorial service for Faith. Patrick had accused me of using his daughter for publicity, and I could tell Summer thought the worst of me because of it. I was afraid if I told her the truth, she would write an article about it. She’d use it as a way to make a name for herself, to get a scoop about what really happened with my career all those years ago."
Vera leaned back. "Listen, Kyle, it’s bound to get out anyway. I can’t believe you’ve been able to keep it a secret for this long. How’d you manage that all these years?"
Kyle slouched lower in the chair. "When I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s twelve years ago, there were fewer media outlets then. It was before TMZ and social media were so popular. I was able to keep it quiet. Until the very end of the shoot on Heartbreakers."
"I remember how bad things got for you then," Vera whispered. "Although...I still think it would have been better if you told your director and the studio executives about your diagnosis." Her voice grew louder. "Wouldn’t it have helped if they knew you were sick?"
Kyle straightened his back and fiddled with the phone on the table. "If they knew, they would’ve never hired me again. They have to get insurance on lead actors — so in case someone can’t finish shooting due to an illness or an injury, they can recoup the money they’ve spent on the film, and it’s not a total loss. But it’s expensive to insure actors who are sick, elderly, on drugs...There are some pretty high surcharges for all kinds of risks, including pre-existing medical conditions. I didn’t think I was important enough for them to take the risk and pay the additional insurance costs. They would just give the role to the next twenty-year-old." He looked up.
Vera frowned. "Don’t you see, by keeping it a secret, there was all this speculation about your behavior on set, especially at the end of Heartbreakers. I remember reading about it in People and seeing reports on Entertainment Tonight at the time. They had it all wrong."
Kyle swallowed hard. "Keeping it a secret seemed like the best option when I was first diagnosed. And I was able to deal with everything pretty well. Until the end of the shoot on Heartbreakers, that day when I couldn’t get out of bed." He exhaled as the memories came flooding back. "The studio had to shut down filming for the day, something they avoided at all costs — because of the cost. I finished shooting, but my agent dropped me as soon as Heartbreakers wrapped. I was afraid no one would ever want to cast me as a leading man again."
Tears filled Vera’s eyes. "I know the chemo treatments were rough." She blinked back a few tears, but then in a rush they started to fall across her cheeks. She grabbed a napkin from the holder in the center of the table and wiped her eyes. Without saying a word, she got up and busied herself around the kitchen. She grabbed a sponge from behind the faucet and washed the mugs piled in the sink.
Kyle grabbed one of the unfolded dish towels from the center of the table and jumped up next to Vera. He started to dry the newly washed mugs she had placed on the rack next to the sink. "My reputation was so badly damaged with what happened on Heartbreakers," he whispered. "People were speculating I had a drug problem. I never expected that."
Vera shut the kitchen faucet and stared into the sink. "Not explaining why you stopped taking roles so abruptly probably raised a lot of questions." She turned toward him and leaned against the front of the sink. "You started in the industry so young, and achieved so much success so quickly." She dropped the sponge into the sink full of water and folded her arms. "It all fed into a perception of you as a spoiled actor who got too much too soon."
Kyle’s body tensed. "And plenty of others were ready to take my place." He took a few steps back and leaned against the refrigerator. "There were a lot of
other pretty faces for those silly teen films."
Vera reached for the pile of folded dish cloths sitting along the edges of the table. "But you never seemed to enjoy any of the fame and attention." She stuffed the small towels into the drawer in front of the sink. "Were you even enjoying your celebrity life, before you got sick?"
Kyle focused in again on a tree branch that stretched across the window. "I didn’t even think about whether I enjoyed it. I just wanted to get back what had been taken from me. I wanted everything to go back to exactly how it was, before I was diagnosed with cancer. But I realized pretty quickly what a struggle it was going to be to revive my career. I was prepared to be patient, though, and I thought as long as no one ever knew the real reason why I stopped acting, I would eventually get the leading roles again."
Vera grabbed the remaining piles of towels and juggled them in her arms. "After twelve years, it is finally happening." She scurried to the hall closet just outside of the kitchen and began to place the piles on the shelves, filling every empty space. Then she stepped back into the kitchen and sat at the table. "So why didn’t you tell Summer all of this? And what did you tell her?"
"Ugh..." Kyle sat in the wooden chair across from Vera. He slumped over the table. "I don’t even want to say it."
"Tell me, Kyle."
He lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. "I told her my cousin died of Hodgkin’s."
"What?" Vera’s eyes widened. "Kyle! You have to tell her the truth, before this goes any further. You can’t lose her over this."
He held his head in his hands. "I know! I don’t want to lose her again."
Vera furrowed her brow. Prominent wrinkles formed across her forehead. "Is Summer the reason you came back here last fall while you waited for Wreckless to open? Did you come back hoping to see her?"
Kyle sighed. "I honestly had no idea she was in Spring Valley." But he wondered if some part of him had hoped he’d find her in town again. "I thought she was working as a journalist in New York. She always talked about that being her dream."
"OK." Vera tilted her head. "So why did you come back?"
"When I’m here, I feel more grounded." He grinned. "It reminds me there is life outside of Hollywood."
Vera smirked. "Did you also want to make sure Mom and I would keep your secret?"
Kyle shook his head. "I know I don’t ever have to worry about you selling the story to a tabloid." He leaned across the table. "You know, last fall, being home, being in the production of Streetcar, it was the happiest, most peaceful time in my life. Until I saw Summer again."
"But wasn’t running into her a good thing?" Vera sighed.
"Until I made a mess of everything." Kyle grunted. "But everything I said to Summer was true, sort of. I experienced all of it myself, including fearing I would never see thirty. Thinking I would die from the disease."
"Don’t rationalize it, Kyle," Vera counseled. "You can’t create a part to play. This isn’t some acting role. If you want to have a meaningful relationship with Summer, you have to be honest and tell her what you went through."
In the silence, Kyle lifted the lid on the paper coffee cup. He reached across the table and grabbed the small spoon inside the sugar bowl. He scooped out a mound of sugar and balanced it on the spoon. Then a high-pitched ring pierced the silence. Kyle jumped and most of the sugar scattered across the table.
He glanced down at the name displayed on his phone.
Summer?
He took a quick sip of the cold, sugarless coffee and then answered. "Hey, this is a nice surprise, Summer. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you today. Thought you had interviews scheduled all day."
"I wanted to see how you’re doing, Kyle." Summer paused. "You seemed distracted the other night. Are you OK? Do you want to meet for coffee today?"
"I can meet you at Brew City in an hour." Kyle let out a sigh.
"OK," Summer said. "See you in a little bit."
Kyle hung up and placed the phone on the table. He dropped his forehead onto his hands. Then he lifted his head, still clutching the phone. "I gotta go." He pushed the chair back and it screeched across the linoleum floor.
Vera stepped closer to Kyle and patted his back. "When you see Summer, you’ll know the right thing to do."
He already knew.
CHAPTER 7
Summer spotted Kyle sitting at a table in the back of the coffee shop. He peered out the window as she darted over to him, certain she’d find a way to convince him to go public with Justin’s story.
As Summer sat, Kyle stood and leaned forward across the table to kiss her on the cheek. Then he turned toward the window and continued watching as cars pulled into the parking lot.
Summer reached for his hand. "You seem preoccupied."
"I guess I am a little distracted." He angled toward her and grinned. "Sorry."
"No need to apologize. Are you thinking about Justin?" She paused. When he didn’t respond, she continued. "I really appreciate you telling me about him. I’d like to hear more about what he went through, if you want to talk about it."
Kyle’s jaw clenched.
Summer suspected he just needed a little more nudging to open up. "I’m sure it was very difficult for you to watch Justin go through his illness," she whispered. "Don’t you think it would help if the Sheridans knew your cousin had a similar experience? They’d realize you understand exactly what they are going through."
Kyle pursed his lips. "I don’t know if anything would make them understand."
An audible sigh escaped her lips. "Why are you letting people think you manipulated Faith and the Sheridans as a publicity stunt? Why won’t you tell everyone the truth —"
"I can’t."
"But why?"
"Listen, Summer." Kyle’s eyes narrowed. "I can’t explain what really happened, they’d never understand."
She didn’t understand. "Kyle, if you were the horrible person they think you are, I wouldn’t defend you, support you."
Kyle pressed his eyelids shut.
"Kyle, you have to —"
"I know the truth. That’s all that matters." He folded his arms. "I understand Patrick’s in pain. He just lost his daughter. He’s angry. Nothing I say will change that."
"But, Kyle, I’d hate to see your comeback jeopardized because of these accusations."
Kyle unfolded his arms. "I appreciate that, Summer. Now, can we talk about something else? How is your application with the Tribune coming? Are you almost ready to send it out?"
"Just came from the post office." She smiled. "I mailed the application!"
Kyle’s eyes widened. "What? You sent it already? But you haven’t sold your mother’s house yet."
His tone startled Summer. Is he surprised? Or angry? she wondered. "The real estate agent said a young couple has viewed the house twice. And they’re likely to make an offer any day now. That was good enough for me."
Kyle stirred a packet of sugar into his coffee. "So now you just have to wait to see if you hear from the editors at the Tribune?"
"Yep. All I can do now is wait." Summer exhaled a long breath.
"I can relate to that." Kyle swigged the coffee. "We shot Wreckless almost a year ago, and I’ve been waiting all this time. I’ve been waiting to see if it will be a success — if I will be a success again."
Summer placed her hand on Kyle’s. "You shouldn’t pin all your worth on this film. Whether the film is a success is out of your control. If it doesn’t do well, it’s not a reflection on you."
Kyle yanked his hand away. "But it is a reflection on me." He sat forward. "Don’t you understand? There’s all this pressure for the film to be a blockbuster in its first week." He leaned further across the table. "If the film is a flop, then it’s my fault. Studio executives will say I can’t carry a film."
"If your film career doesn’t work ou
t, Kyle, you could do something else. Maybe something in the theater. Didn’t you enjoy your part in Streetcar last winter?"
He leaned forward again. "I want something better than those small theater parts."
"You already had a better part when you auditioned for the role in Streetcar last fall," she probed. "You had already filmed Wreckless. Why did you even audition for the role in Streetcar, if you don’t really want to take those small theater parts? You certainly didn’t need the money." His generous donation to the Sheridans proved that, Summer reasoned.
Kyle exhaled. "I came back here to Spring Valley while I waited for Wreckless to open, and after I was here for a few months, trying to be anonymous, I felt restless. When I heard about the auditions, I decided to give it a try. I didn’t want the lead role. I just wanted to be around the theater again. I did a lot of theater in LA before I landed Wreckless. I guess I sort of missed it."
"I always wondered why there wasn’t more fanfare about your role in Streetcar." Summer hesitated as Kyle chewed on his lower lip. Should I stop pressing him about this? But there were so many unanswered questions swirling around in her mind. She couldn’t stop now. She needed to know. "It didn’t seem like there was any attempt by the arts center to capitalize on your former A-list status. They clearly didn’t cast you for publicity."
Kyle pushed his chair back a few inches from the table. "I wasn’t sure anyone at the arts center even knew about the films I had starred in." His leg bobbed. "It had been so long since those films came out. But I asked my agent to include something in my contract saying I wouldn’t be doing any press for the play, and they agreed not to publicize my involvement."
"Wouldn’t it have helped the arts center to be able to promote your involvement in the play?" Summer wondered aloud.
"The theater sells out its season tickets every year." Kyle took a sip of his coffee. "Locals go to whatever play is showing, so the theater doesn’t have to advertise much for each individual production. They didn’t need me for the publicity. And I didn’t want to take attention away from Tyler. He was the lead. Playing Stanley Kowalski was a big role for him."
