Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie 2)

by Kimberly Adams

  “No, I feel fine. Hey.” I stopped, catching him by the hand as he finished shoving the empty grocery bags under the sink. “Have you heard from Madeline?”

  His hazel eyes, too much like Keaton’s, flashed with pain.

  “No. I called her earlier to wish her a merry Christmas, but she never responded to my message.”

  “You should call her back and say, ‘oh, sorry, wrong number,’” I said, finally eliciting a grin from him.

  “Yeah. No. I shouldn’t have called her at all. Hey, any word on the movie?”

  I sighed, reaching for my sweater. “It’s officially dropped. They aren’t waiting for Keaton. Ash has other commitments for the next two years. He’d be out of the film, anyway.”

  “That’s what you wanted though, right? You didn’t want to do it without Keaton.”

  “No. Not even when he wakes up. I can’t imagine filming a movie about what I just lived through. Makes my skin crawl.”

  “I hear you.”

  He gestured to the door, and I gave him a thankful smile.

  “I really can take a cab,” I said, and he narrowed his eyes, giving me a look.

  “You’re not standing down there, alone on the curb on Christmas Eve with my niece. You’re bum bait.”

  “I have spare change.”

  He grinned, and I froze, covering my rounded belly suddenly, and he turned my way.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  The repetitive flutter inside continued for another few seconds, and I lifted my eyes to his. “I think she has the hiccups.”

  “Really?” he stared at my stomach, fascinated, and I reached for his hand.

  “Here… feel her,” I whispered.

  His fingers rested over the thin material of my t-shirt, splaying over the rhythmic pulse. A slow grin moved across his lips, and he took a step closer, placing his left hand next to his right.

  “She’s right there,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

  The heaviness that fell over me took me by surprise. I felt the hollowness of my heart from deep inside forcing tears to well in my eyes.

  It’d been a while since I’d just sat and cried. By November, I’d resolved to be strong for Keaton, for the baby, and for everyone, refusing to wallow any longer.

  Keaton was going to wake up. It was only a matter of when.

  “Hey.” He sensed my emotional response immediately, moving his hands and wrapping his arms around me. “He’ll come back to us, Vivie.”

  “I miss him.” I finally broke, balling my fists against his strong back. “I miss him every single day. More and more. He may not even know me if he comes back. He might not even be the same person,” I whispered.

  I’d only let myself share my darkest fears with Luke, recognizing early on in our friendship that he listened without judgment or sarcasm. Somehow, he was wise, and so intuitive for being only a year older than I was.

  “That’s the first time I ever heard you say ‘if.’ Look at me.”

  He tilted my chin up, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

  “When,” I corrected softly.

  “When he comes back, he’ll need you more than ever.”

  “I know.”

  He stared at me for a long, quiet moment, and my eyes fluttered closed as he bent to press a kiss to my forehead.

  My stomach churned with nausea, and I backed away, my heart hammering in my chest.

  Keaton had always kissed me there, and Luke recognized immediately that he’d crossed a line.

  “I’m sorry. Come on,” he added lightly, opening the apartment door. “Let’s go bash Clint Eastwood movies in front of him until he wakes up.”

  I forced a smile, hurrying to the elevator.

  The ICU was quiet, and Rhonda, one of my favorite nurses, sat behind the desk and smiled as we entered. “Look at you! Let me see that baby,” she called, standing and moving around to me excitedly.

  “She had the hiccups earlier,” Luke said, gesturing to my stomach. “The baby, not Vivian,” he added awkwardly.

  Rhonda laughed, and I fished the envelope out of my purse, handing it over to her.

  “Merry Christmas, Rhonda,” I said, and she tsked, accepting the envelope. Her dark braids were pulled back as they always were. During our first conversation, we’d bonded over our love of ponytails.

  “Girl,” she protested, opening the card and spa package gift certificate. “Thank you, honey. You know you’re coming with me. They do prenatal massages.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I replied, gesturing toward Keaton’s room. “How is he?”

  I asked every day, every hour, every time I arrived at the hospital that had practically become my second home.

  Rhonda smiled, taking a step toward me.

  “Well, that’s my Christmas present for you, hon.” She reached for my hands, her dark eyes sparkling. “He woke up for about two minutes today, Vivian. That’s why I called you. He hasn’t since, but when he did, he asked for you.”

  If Luke hadn’t put his arm around me, I would have fallen to the ground.

  “Breathe, honey,” Rhonda added, and I nodded, trying to get ahold of myself while running to Keaton’s room.

  “I should have been here,” I cried, turning to Luke in frustration. “I should have been here when he opened his eyes.”

  “You can’t live here,” Rhonda argued gently. “And there’s been no change since. You know it will most likely happen very slowly,” she reminded me. “No Hollywood endings in here, sweetie.”

  “I know.” I lowered to the seat next to the bed, taking his hand as I always did.

  Four months.

  Four months, and Keaton was down from one hundred and ninety pounds to one hundred and sixty.

  He had regular physical therapy for his muscles and to prevent bedsores. The hospital staff had been absolutely wonderful to me, keeping me up to date on every aspect of his care.

  “He needs a haircut,” Luke said, settling into his seat on the other side of Keaton. “He’d be pissed knowing it was so long.”

  “We can have someone come in,” Rhonda assured me. “Just let me know.”

  “Keaton,” I whispered, moving my lips closer to his ear. “Merry Christmas. You have to wake up again. Charlie had the hiccups today,” I murmured, kissing his head softly. “And she’s been moving around like crazy. I think she’s got some Red Bull in her blood,” I added with a smile.

  “Doc said he’ll be in around ten in the morning, if you want to talk with him then,” Rhonda said, folding a blanket at Keaton’s feet.

  “Okay.” I rested my head on Keaton’s shoulder. “Thanks Rhonda.”

  She gave me a tender smile before heading back to the desk.

  Luke sat back against the chair, meeting my eyes.

  “Do you want to be alone with him?” he asked, his calming voice easing my nerves.

  “Please stay,” I replied, moving to stretch out on the bed beside my fiancé. I took Keaton’s hand, resting it over my rounded belly. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes.”

  He stood, unfolding the blanket that Rhonda had just left. “Goodnight,” he replied knowingly, spreading the blanket over us both. “I’m putting the rail up so you don’t fall.”

  “Thank you, Luke,” I murmured, careful not to move too much to disturb the feeding tube in Keaton’s stomach.

  “Merry Christmas, Vivie,” he said softly, brushing his hand over my hair before moving back to the chair.

  A Perfect World

  V

  “Fucking security guards, Viv. They were useless. The police were useless. I let this happen to you both.” Frank sniffed, and I could tell that he was fighting back his unmanly emotions. “Jesus Christ, he’s like my son. I see him in that bed, and I fucking lose it. Look at you, ready to pop that kid out any day. Fuck.”

  “Frank,” Kathy scolded lightly, turning to me with flowers. “Darling, if there is anything at all that we can do, please don’t hesitate to a
sk.”

  “Thank you both,” I’d answered, grateful when they finally left.

  Frank was absolutely devastated over Keaton, and stopped over to see me at least twice a week. He was Keaton’s Power of Attorney, and managed his finances in his absence. He continued paying on Keaton’s apartment, making sure that I had more than enough money every week to take care of myself.

  “I can’t spend his money,” I’d protested, sickened just thinking about him in the hospital as I cut checks from his bank account.

  “Yes you can,” Frank said. “You can help me. I can’t be running this company and doing stupid shit like paying utilities and cleaning ladies. You are almost his wife. You’re in charge of this apartment.” Frank slapped a checkbook and credit card into my hand, kissing my cheek.

  That was almost seven months ago.

  I spent my days reading through the scripts that Frank sent to me and keeping up the apartment. I read everything that I could about the production business, pouring over how-tos and business management strategies. Finally, I asked Frank to find me an acting coach. Two days a week, I went with Luke to the studio, working with a woman named Marissa Mack. She was in her late thirties and full of energy, always positive while giving me plenty of direction and ideas for improving my skills. Ultimately, she said that I was very used to the stage and overacted to compensate, and she gave me exercises to work on that would help me become more familiar with screen acting.

  She was amazing, and I was so thankful that we became fast friends.

  “You’ve been working really hard, and it shows, Vivian,” Marissa complimented me, nearly a month into our sessions. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I want to impress him, when he wakes up,” I told her. She stopped reading over the script in her hands, pinching her lips together into a sad smile.

  “I know you do, honey. And you will.”

  She hugged me then, and we ended up going out to lunch together. It was nice to have a girlfriend to talk to after being surrounded by men for so long. Luke was a calming force in my life, both of us united by our love for Keaton. When it came down to talking through my emotions, though, he would simply stand up and hold his arms out to me.

  “Come on, let’s hug it out,” Luke would say, and I’d give in every time. He’d force a smile from me, but I’d end up burying everything inside, knowing full well that whatever I needed to deal with would surface again in time.

  I was a runner and always had been. I ran from my emotions, and Luke made that very easy for me to do.

  Keaton had refused to let me run, and forced me to deal with my issues on the spot, letting me break before helping me deal.

  God, I miss him.

  The winter had crawled by, each devastating day filling me with less hope than the one before it. Keaton was down another fifteen pounds, and, after Christmas Eve, he hadn’t woken up again for nearly a month. Even then, it was for only a minute or two and was in the middle of the night when I wasn’t there.

  I ended up spending the next three days crying my eyes out at his side, refusing to leave the hospital.

  Luke had finally convinced me that I needed help, and I sat down with a psychiatrist who explained something called “survivor’s guilt.” The more time that passed, the worse it seemed to get. At her direction, I plotted out a solid routine, keeping my mind busy at all times. She had me practice deep breathing to ward off the irrational thoughts that constantly took over my mind.

  My parents came out to be with me every other week at first and finally decided to just return closer to when the baby would be born. My regular visits with Dr. Grey were going so well, I began to relax and truly let myself believe that this time wasn’t like the last.

  This time, I’d take my baby home with me.

  Luke and I had fallen into an easy routine, and I was so thankful for his presence. True to her word, Robin had made it out at least once a month to stay with me, making me laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. At first, Luke would fly home when Robin came, but on his last trip across the country, he informed me that he’d ended his lease on his apartment.

  “My place is out here. When Keaton is finally home with you, I’m finding a place in LA. There’s nothing for me in Pennsylvania anymore.”

  I knew he meant Madeline. Their divorce had been final in November, and during one of our long talks, he’d admitted to me that he had a feeling she was using him for his money before they even got married.

  “I’m sorry, Luke,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “I wish Keaton was here for you, like you were for him.”

  “He will be,” he assured me, gripping my hand tightly.

  Now, we sat on the couch next to each other, staring at Keaton’s TV, which had become our nightly routine.

  “I don’t want to need you, ‘cause I can’t have you,” Clint Eastwood told Meryl Streep, and I sighed, my heart racing at the beautiful dialog.

  Luke groaned, covering his eyes dramatically. “I swear to God, my penis just fell off.”

  I almost choked on the handful of popcorn I’d just shoved into my mouth, laughing and shooting him a dirty look.

  “Hey. Stop it.” I turned the volume of Bridges of Madison County up a notch. “I’m going to watch every single Clint Eastwood movie until I fall in love with him like Keaton has.”

  “Ugh.” Luke stretched his long legs out, tucking his arm over my shoulders on the couch. “So, your belly is kind of a shelf.”

  I glanced down, realizing that the bowl of popcorn teetered on my stomach hands-free. I smiled sheepishly, shrugging.

  “It works.”

  “Do I have to stay for this? I have some work emails to check.” Luke had officially been taken under Frank’s wing, helping him manage the studio.

  “Shut up. You owe me for Transformers Seventeen: Bored Out of my Mind.”

  “You know, for an actress, you don’t really appreciate fine film.”

  “You have to be able to identify fine film in order to appreciate it.”

  “You know, Vivie, you may annoy me even more than my other sister.”

  I grinned at that, truly warming when he referred to me as his sister. His words immediately made me think of Keaton, and our wedding, and the life that waited for us.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the number before sitting up and erratically pressing the answer button on the screen. The bowl of popcorn went tumbling to the floor, and I didn’t care.

  “Vivian,” Luke said gently, recognizing my reaction.

  As always, when the hospital called, my heart practically jumped out of my chest. “Hello? Is it Keaton?”

  “Hi Viv,” Rhonda answered. “Five minutes this time. He clearly spoke your name, and… Vivian, he said that he loved you.”

  “Oh God,” I whispered brokenly. Luke’s alarming expression forced me to remain calm. “Five minutes this time, and he said my name… and that he loved me,” I sobbed.

  He reached for the phone, and I listened distantly as he talked to Rhonda from the kitchen.

  I turned the TV off, curling against the couch and holding my belly. Charlie kicked against my hand as if she knew that I was upset and could hear my thundering heart.

  “Thanks.” Luke hung up, kneeling down at my side. “So his voice was very clear and strong, and he was slightly combative. The fact that he asked for you, and that he spoke clearly, are all great signs. Vivie,” he comforted softly, wrapping his arms around me. I was getting used to his scent, so different from Keaton’s. I knew that it was his deodorant because I put it away when he’d leave it out on the bathroom counter that we shared every day.

  “It’s March. It’s been three months since he woke up last,” I cried, soaking his shirt with my tears. “I can’t wait for three more months!”

  “Yes you can. What choice do we have? We wait three, or five, or seven or a year if we have to. But we wait.”

  He let me cry into his
shirt, moving onto the couch next to me to hold me. I drifted in and out of sleep, trying to remember what it felt like when Keaton held me.

  Hours later, I woke up on the couch with a blanket over my legs. The twinge of pain that I’d dreamt forced me to double over, and I tossed the blanket aside, waddling toward Luke’s room.

  “Luke?”

  He was sprawled across his bed wearing only tight boxer-briefs. I pulled the blanket up to his waist, attempting to cover as much of him as possible before waking him up.

  “Vivie? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

  I nodded quickly, holding my enormous belly.

  “She’s coming.”

  He flew from the bed, his hair mussed from sleep, bare-chested and…

  I flushed, turning away from his mostly naked body, hurrying into the hallway.

  “Sorry, I just need to go to the hospital,” I called, mortified at his morning hard-on.

  “Get your bag. Shit, what time is it? I’m driving us, we’re not taking a cab. How close are the contractions? Fuck,” he swore, and I heard him crash against something.

  “Don’t rush,” I called. “They just started. I’m sure everything is fine.”

  I wasn’t sure. I was scared out of my fucking mind, and I wanted to scream and cry like a baby myself.

  “Okay let’s go. Did your water break?” he asked, fumbling with the car keys. I shook my head, wincing as another contraction began.

  I wasn’t scheduled for my cesarean for another week, but apparently Charlie had her father’s patience.

  “No, it didn’t break. Give me a second.”

  I turned away from him, gripping the back of the couch and fighting off the burgeoning tears.

  I knew my hormones were completely out of control, but nothing could have prepared me for the horrible ache that settled in my chest.

  “Vivian?”

  “He should be here,” I cried, my chin quivering as I held my contracting belly. “I really thought he’d be here with me,” I said, letting the tears just come.

  I gave up fighting them.

  Caught off guard, Luke’s handsome face fell, and he lowered his eyes. “I did too,” he admitted, dropping his arm to my shoulders. “We’re going to get through this, and then when he does wake up for good, you’ll both be there. Okay?”