Love Unscripted

by Reber, Tina

  “No thank you.” I had gone through an entire box of tissues from crying. I knew she had talked to Ryan about five times. Her phone rang every twenty minutes.

  “Come on sweetheart, you have to eat something. You haven’t eaten all day.”

  I didn’t care; I wasn’t hungry so I ignored her.

  Ten minutes later there was another knock on my door. This knock was louder.

  “Taryn, it’s Marie. Open up.”

  I had to give Ryan’s mom credit; she was resourceful.

  “I’m okay, Marie. Just leave me alone.” I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to wallow in my own misery.

  “Hey Pete, it’s Marie. I need you to come over to Taryn’s and take her bedroom door down. She locked herself in. Just bring a drill and saw so we can cut the doorknob off. What? I should just kick it in with my foot?”

  Marie smiled at me when I opened the door. She only pretended to call Pete. “That’s what’s going to happen if you ever lock yourself in here again,” she informed.

  I heard Ellen talking on her phone, obviously to Ryan. She scurried for the living room when I came out of my room. She was giving Ryan a play-by-play account of my actions. He called his mom several times that night, but I refused to talk to him each time. I was so hurt that no apology could fix it.

  The next afternoon, flowers showed up. Three dozen long stemmed red roses accompanied by an “I love you - I’m so sorry” note. I left them in the box to rot. Like roses would make everything better somehow – perhaps give me a rosy outlook? Yeah right! So much for a happy Valentine’s Day. If his mother weren’t here, they would have gone in the trash, but Ellen found my crystal vase and spent a few minutes fussing with them.

  “You know this is tough on him too,” she uttered, setting the rose arrangement on my dining table. “He is suffering along with you.”

  I knew she wanted me to see his side through my self-centered focus, but I was still so angry with him that I was only worried about protecting myself now. He obviously didn’t care enough to protect my reputation so I was on my own.

  Ellen sprayed polish on a rag and started dusting my furniture. Something made her smile.

  “Do you remember that time when Ryan called his father from here and told him that you took him fishing?” She turned to look at me.

  “Yes,” I answered her, recalling that evening quite clearly.

  “He called me later that night when he got back to his hotel.” She smiled. “He was so elated! He said, ‘Mom, I found the woman I’m going to marry!’ Of course I was thrilled for him, but as his mother I was also concerned. I mean he had only known you for a few weeks, but he was so sure right from the very start. Taryn, you know he loves you more than anything in this world, don’t you?”

  Her guilt trip was working. I tried to hold firm to my reasons for feeling betrayed so my position in this fight would be validated, but her one-sided conversation was pecking at my resolve. I started to feel like crap for being mad at him.

  “He said last night that he feels completely responsible for the accident. After all, it was one of his demented fans that terrorized you, and you were on your way to see him when he couldn’t be here.”

  “It’s not his fault,” I muttered. “He shouldn’t think that.”

  “But he does,” she assured me. “He cried so hard last night when I talked to him.” Her voice trembled with pain and remorse.

  “He… he said he killed his baby.” Her hand covered her quivering lips when she spoke the words, stifling her urge to cry out loud. Ellen quickly dropped the dust rag and shielded her face in her hands when her tears broke.

  Tears of my own cracked again and I watched her hurry away to the bathroom through my blurry eyes.

  He didn’t kill our baby – I did. I was the heinous monster.

  “Taryn, I’m so sorry,” Ryan breathed in the phone when he answered my call.

  I couldn’t stop crying. I never knew I had so many tears to shed in one lifetime.

  Chapter 32 – Downward Spirals

  I turned my laptop off when I had enough. New pictures were posted on the Internet of Ryan coming out of the back door of some exclusive club in Miami. His eyes were glazed over and he looked wasted, which angered me. Seeing gorgeous Lauren Delaney smiling in the same picture, just two steps behind Ryan, scorched my heart. Viewing the photos of Ryan guiding Lauren into the same car so they could head back to their hotel just about sent me over the edge.

  He’d been partying a lot lately since my accident. Late night cast dinners, rumors of the excessive drinking binges, private outings with Lauren, and his denials of it all over the telephone were piling up on me.

  Photos from the set were leaked and posted all over the Internet as well. Clear shots of Ryan playing with Lauren’s rings on her fingers, sitting so close that you couldn’t slide a sheet of paper between them made me crack into tears. It was hard to discern what interaction between them was for the film and what was… not.

  And then there was the kissing...

  The pictures of his lips on hers over and over again surrounded by words like “Rekindled Love” and “Ryan dumps Taryn Mitchell for old flame” made me deranged.

  Ryan had informed me on several occasions that Lauren had a boyfriend, but every piece of photographic evidence pointed to that being complete bull. I wanted so badly to believe him. Some days I did; some days my faith wavered. It didn’t help that all the tabloid websites stated that her relationship with Lucas Banks was over.

  This absence from being in his presence drove the wedge deeper and deeper. Just knowing that he was spending so much intimate time with the last woman he had a relationship with before me was terrifying.

  Every day he told me he loved me. Every day that we were apart seemed to last an eternity.

  I had asked my doctor for a prescription refill, using the excuse that I was still in pain. Even though my body was healing, my mind was in pain. I was also starting to like the way the combination of antidepressants and narcotics made me feel numb.

  Ryan was dealing with his own pain, drowning his misery in alcohol. I feared that he would slip and seek comfort in another woman’s arms – someone who wasn’t the source of his woes.

  Ellen finally flew back to Pittsburgh. She had stayed with me for over two weeks, but she had to get back home and back to running Bill’s dental office. I was fending for myself fairly well so there wasn’t any need for her to stay. As much as I loved her, she was starting to get on my nerves.

  As soon as she cleared out, Tammy moved into the guestroom.

  There were quite a few moments when I had the overwhelming urge to get on a plane and fly down to Florida to see just what the hell was going on down there, but I couldn’t. My ribs were still bruised, my arm was in a cast, and I didn’t have medical clearance to fly.

  The large black and blue marks on my face were healing, diminished to a most unpleasant yellow tinge to my skin.

  My body and face had been covered quite extensively in road rash. Many spots were scraped and bruised… even my scalp. Those too, were healing.

  And then there was the acute agoraphobia to deal with. Angelica was still on the loose, paparazzi still lurked around the corners, and I looked like shit from getting hit by a car. It certainly made hiding inside my apartment the most appealing of all options.

  Through all of this, there was still one story that hurt more than any of them – and it was the biggest lie of them all. Articles were written and circulated all around the globe that said I tried to trap Ryan Christensen by getting pregnant.

  My supposed failed attempt at trapping him was reported as the reason why he went running back to Lauren’s arms. It was so far from the actual truth, yet people were even talking about it on television. I was a gold-digging, small town piece of trash who tried to use a superstar to get somewhere in life.

  And here I thought I had it bad when Thomas dumped me. That was a bee sting in comparison to having the moon fall out
of the sky and land conveniently on my head.

  Marie and Cory were running the bar full time while I recuperated; I spent the majority of each day on the couch in a haze.

  “Taryn?” Marie called out as she came through my door. She and Tammy both had their own keys to my apartment now. “Kyle is downstairs. He says he has something he wants to give you.” Her expression was worried.

  I thought I had seen the last of Kyle when I told him goodbye, but he still continued to drift in and out of my life. I was very apprehensive about seeing him again; part of me feared him.

  Tammy led the way down the steps to make sure I wouldn’t fall.

  Kyle was sitting at a booth by himself; a brown bag was on the seat next to his hip. My two best friends stood behind the bar, watching his every move.

  “Hi,” he said curtly. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to see me, but I got some things for you - it would make me feel a lot better if I knew you were safe.”

  I nervously sat down and rested my cast on the tabletop.

  “I got you some stuff.” He opened the bag. “Things you can keep in your purse or wherever, just in case.”

  The first thing Kyle took out of the bag was an ordinary can of wasp spray.

  “This is better than mace and it sprays farther too. Spray this in an attacker’s face and they’re instantly incapacitated. I only got you one can but you should probably buy a few more.”

  I watched as he dug into the bag again. Kyle barely made eye contact with me.

  “This is a strobe light alarm with mace; it disorients and blinds an attacker,” he muttered. “This is called a ‘Screecher’ – it’s really loud. You can put it on your keychain or keep it in your car.”

  I was looking at one of the packages, wondering why I would ever need to use any of these things. I never needed them before; Ryan’s fans had been keeping their distance.

  “Just remember that you can’t take any of this stuff on an airplane if you are going to fly anywhere. I was going to get you a taser too, but they are illegal in Rhode Island. Do you know any self-defense?” he rambled.

  “Not really,” I admitted.

  Kyle didn’t smile. “You should probably think about taking some classes when you’re healed. I could show you some moves, but…”

  Kyle put all the items back in the bag and sighed heavily.

  “Have you seen Angelica in the area?” he asked, quietly changing the subject.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I haven’t been out of the house much. The two times I went out was to go to the doctor. Jamaal escorted me.”

  Kyle nodded. “Good. Mr. Jones is an excellent bodyguard and a good man.”

  Kyle looked nervous and depressed when he talked to me. “I’ve been trying to track Angelica down but she hasn’t surfaced anywhere yet. I have a few people watching to see if she pops up on the map again. Just don’t worry. I’ll find her soon enough.”

  Kyle grabbed his keys from his pocket and started to slide out of the booth. “Okay, well… that’s all. Take care of yourself.”

  He started to walk off but I stopped him.

  “Kyle?” I called out, secretly wishing he’d stay just a bit longer.

  He stopped abruptly in his tracks, but barely glanced back at me over his shoulder.

  “Would you like to stay for a drink?” I asked apprehensively.

  His eyes were so sad and it pained me to know that I was the cause of his melancholy. As if I needed one more reason to be sad myself.

  I grabbed the bottle of tequila.

  “All you have to do is stamp on their foot real hard,” Kyle chuckled, telling me about some self-defense maneuvers.

  “So, in other words, hitting them over the head with this bottle wouldn’t work?” I giggled. I was feeling quite tipsy from the beer, shots, and pain medicine.

  “You could always use your big, blue club here,” he teased, tapping his fingers on my arm cast. “Swing it hard enough and you could probably knock some teeth out with that thing!”

  I smirked at his joke.

  “I’m not afraid. If someone wants to try and hurt me, I’m going to put up one hell of a fight. The majority of his fans are harmless, although I’m sure I’ll have to deal with a lot more of them hating me over the next forty years. Oh well, whatever.”

  Kyle became awfully quiet.

  “Hey, I remember what I wanted to ask you!” I blurted out. “Where is that corner deli where you got that chicken soup?”

  “Did you like it?” Kyle asked, grinning at me.

  “Oh yeah! It was delicious! You’ll have to give me directions to that place.”

  He started to tell me what roads to take but after the fifth turn I lost him. I was quite buzzed after that last shot.

  “Can’t you write it down for me? I’ll never remember,” I whined.

  “You have a pen?” he asked.

  I returned with paper and a pen and two more bottles of beer. Kyle started writing directions.

  “You’re a lefty, huh?” I teased, noticing he wrote with his left hand.

  Kyle smiled at the paper.

  “Did you know that I can write with my left hand?” I taunted. I pulled on the edge of the paper to mess with him while he was writing. “Yep, I’m ambidextrous. What do you think about that?” I tugged on the paper again.

  He was grinning as he kept on writing. “I think we have yet another thing in common.”

  “No way! You are not!” I took a sip of my beer, waiting for him to confirm. He annoyingly kept silent.

  As soon as Kyle finished writing, I slipped the paper out from under his hand. He tried to stop me from taking it but he wasn’t quick enough.

  In an instant his whole demeanor changed. We were just having a fun time teasing each other, but now he seemed agitated.

  Kyle looked at his watch and quickly downed the last of his beer. “I’ve got to go,” he muttered and slid out of the booth.

  I was completely confused by his abrupt departure.

  “Well, thanks for the stuff.” I patted the paper bag.

  He was obviously distracted by other thoughts as he put his leather jacket on.

  “I’ll see you later. Get some rest,” he ordered.

  I watched as Kyle ran his hand through his hair on the way out the door. Marie and Tammy were staring at me, giving me the disapproving look that I spent too much time with Kyle.

  Feeling guilty, I immediately went back upstairs and called Ryan.

  “I still think you could make it,” Ryan whined in my ear. “I’m sure there’s an open seat on a flight.”

  I looked at the yellowish-brown marks that still covered my cheek through my slightly drunken eyes, thinking that no amount of makeup would ever conceal them. I was glad that we had finally moved on from the umpteenth Kyle argument.

  “Ryan, I asked my doctor. He doesn’t want me to fly for another two weeks. Besides, my face is still black and blue or more like yellow and brown now. You can’t be photographed with me looking like this.”

  “I don’t care about that,” he breathed. “But if the doctor is the one saying no, then I understand why you can’t.”

  “Honey, I want to be there too, but a trip to L.A. isn’t possible right now. I still have some pain in my ribs. I’m planning on watching the Oscars on television. I wouldn’t miss your presentation for anything.”

  “I fly tomorrow and then I have a rehearsal so I don’t mess up my lines. I’m really nervous,” he admitted.

  “You’ll do just fine. You’re a pro at this!” I tried to encourage him.

  “This schedule is crazy. I leave out of LAX at nine the next morning. And then I’m scheduled to do some scenes later that night back in Miami,” he groaned.

  “No rest for the weary,” I stated.

  “Tar, would you try to come down here in two weeks? Please? Since I can’t see you this weekend at least come down to Miami. I have something very special in mind for your birthday.”

  “Don’t go
overboard. It’s just another day,” I groaned. “Seeing you will be more than enough.”

  “Nevermind what I plan,” he whispered. “I’ll get arrangements made for you to fly down here and I’m going to make sure you make it safely to the airport this time, so don’t give me any shit about a bodyguard, okay?”

  “All I need is for you to hold me,” I said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Ryan whispered.

  “Why are you talking so quietly? Is someone there with you?” I asked.

  “No. Hang on,” he said. “Hey, I’m gonna get going. I um, ordered room service and they’re here.”

  I thought I heard a woman’s voice speaking in the background and what sounded like Ryan shushing her.

  “Okay, well I guess I’ll talk to you later then,” I muttered. “I love you.”

  “Love you too,” he whispered quickly. The phone clicked abruptly. Ryan didn’t even say goodbye.

  The phone call I had with Ryan was still playing over and over again in my mind the next day. I knew he was flying to L.A. and he had a lot of things to do, but it still surprised me that he didn’t try calling me. It was out of character for him.

  I called him the following day, bothered that I didn’t hear from him. I tried to keep my annoyance out of my tone and kept my voice light and happy. Ryan was moody. He said it was because he was being rushed from place to place. He was also getting dressed for the Oscars.

  Later that evening I perched myself in front of the television to watch the Academy Awards. Ryan looked so handsome on the red carpet as he gave his interview. Of course, he was asked if he was there with anyone and his reply was, “No, I don’t have a date!”

  Date? How about your “one and only” girlfriend is still recuperating from her near-death experience? I grunted in anger. There was no private gesture to acknowledge he was thinking of me. I was still a secret he would never admit to out loud.

  Several days later, we had another argument.

  “Honey, why are there pictures of you hugging and holding Lauren’s hand on the Internet?” I asked gently.

  Ryan huffed in my ear.

  “Taryn, you fucking promised me,” he growled angrily.