The Actor

by Maya Brooks

  “Do you have to work?”

  Way to sound needy.

  She laughed.

  “Yes. One day soon you’ll get tired of hanging around here, and I’ll need something to do and a way to pay my bills.”

  That was a bit too clear sighted for his taste.

  “But, you’re special to me.”

  Laura fell serious and met his eyes.

  “You’re special to me too, but that doesn’t change the facts. You’ll be off to new adventures soon.”

  She touched his cheek. “I get to have you now, and for that I am grateful.”

  Ouch. Am I that much of a pig?

  She claimed a seat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “If you sleep in tomorrow morning, I’ll be home before you know it.”

  Tomorrow, Laura won’t be here.

  The thought created an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach.

  Do I love this woman? Is that what this is?

  There had to be a reason why he grew so miserable after that darned convention. He had been down before, but never on a self-destructive spree like this.

  “Hey, where did you go?”

  He forced himself to exhale, and huffing stale air out of his lungs helped a little.

  “I’m… Nothing.”

  Laura kissed him, and her mouth against his helped a lot.

  The next morning, he watched her go to her car from the kitchen window, and when she glanced over, he waved. She smiled and waved back, and then he was alone.

  Is it normal to be this uncomfortable with one’s own company? Am I crazy?

  The weight of the world weighed down on his shoulders. The apartment didn’t hold enough air for him, and his heart pounded.

  Am I having a heart attack? How can the place seem smaller with one person less in it?

  He staggered out on the little porch and sank down in the chair that had already become his. Fresh air helped chase the anxiety attack off, but sitting there alone wasn’t the same as sitting there with her.

  He held out for an hour.

  Running his fingers through his hair, he muttered, “You’re fucking pathetic,” and called her.

  “Hey, it’s me. Wanna meet for lunch?”

  Her voice smiled.

  “Hi sweetheart. Are you bored already?”

  Does she wonder the same thing I do? Is there something wrong in my head?

  “Not bored. Just lonely.”

  He wanted to keep her on the phone, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Marc, I have to do some work now. Heather has been covering for me, but I have a lot of catching up to do. Are you okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Come home. Please come home. I’ll pay your rent for the rest of your life if you just come home.

  The words never left his lips. Admitting he couldn’t cope with a few hours alone was out of the question.

  “I’ll text you the address. Meet me here at noon?”

  Knowing he wouldn’t have to spend the entire day on his own got him through the morning, and Laura waited on the sidewalk when he arrived in a taxi. Seeing her lifted a weight from his chest, and he breathed easier.

  Panicking over being alone in an apartment isn’t normal. Get a grip.

  A woman came out from the building, and Laura waved.

  “Heather, come here! Heather, this is Marc.”

  She smiled and shook his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Marc.”

  Was there a flicker of recognition in her eyes? No, probably just his imagination.

  Wow, this woman is stunning, and I don’t want her. What’s up with that?

  He must have stood there, frowning and thinking longer than he expected. Laura touched his shoulder.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Heather looked amused.

  She can’t know what I’m thinking. She just can’t, but she knows. Oh great, now I’m completely paranoid.

  The girls talked and he missed most of it until Heather put a slender hand with perfect nails on his arm.

  “I think your souls belong together, but you already know that.”

  She disappeared off and Laura nodded down the road.

  “Lunch? She’s a little peculiar with that soul stuff, but I like her.”

  You think that’s peculiar? Wait until you meet more people in my business.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What are we having?”

  The lunch hour passed much too quickly, and Marc escorted Laura back to the old office building. She snuggled close for a moment and her words warmed his heart.

  “It’s good to have you here.” He squeezed her tighter. “Hurry home, okay?”

  She blew him a kiss as she entered the building, and he stood alone in the sunshine.

  Not a cab in sight. Oh well, I could use some exercise.

  He strolled past the stores lining the street, passed a liquor store, and entered out of old habit. A bottle of whiskey would help pass the long and boring afternoon.

  Back in the little apartment, he brought a glass with him out on the porch. He sat there for quite some time, rolling it between his hands. It didn’t seem as appealing as he thought it would be.

  I need something to do. Maybe a book.

  When he remembered about his drink an hour or so later, it was warm. He laughed at himself and poured it out in the sink.

  He fell asleep on the porch and woke hours later from Laura stroking his hair. He pulled her down on his lap.

  “I was going to welcome you home with dinner, but I got… sidetracked.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll just nibble a little on you instead.”

  *****

  Weeks went by, and even though Laura expected Marc to disappear at any time, she rejoiced in his company.

  He seemed to feel better every day. His hands no longer shook, and even if he often met her for lunch he no longer panicked when she left the apartment.

  I think he’s getting restless. He won’t stay here much longer. I wish he would. It’s okay to dream, right?

  Heather gave a slight shrug when they talked about it.

  “He won’t stay, not this time, but he’ll be back. You two belong together. He just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

  “How can you be so sure he will?”

  “Because if he doesn’t, he’ll kill himself.”

  Great…

  Marc usually ignored his phone, but one afternoon it just wouldn’t stop ringing. She tried not to listen, but perked her ears anyway when she heard his tone of voice. He sounded drained.

  “Yes, Lawrence, I understand. Can’t you deal with it? Well, what do I pay you for?”

  For a moment she thought he’d throw the phone, but he just clenched his jaw and put it down, a little too slowly.

  No… No, please don’t leave.

  “Problems, lover?”

  “Yes. I have to go home and deal with my divorce.”

  That should be a good thing, a great thing, but since it implied him leaving, it was deeply depressing.

  Can I come with you? Please ask me to come with you.

  “I wouldn’t go if it was just the money, but Lawrence says if I ever want to see the children again I’d better show up. Anne is pretty mad.”

  “I understand.”

  There wasn’t much else to say. She couldn’t tell him her heart shriveled to the size of a raisin, or that her stomach was filled with tears.

  He reached for her hand.

  “Laura…”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t. I’ll just… Really miss you.”

  And worry about you. I don’t know if I can go through all this again.

  “Laura, come here.”

  She still couldn’t resist him. She sat on his lap and rested her head against his, trying not to cry. Maybe changing the subject would make it easier.

  “Your hair is pretty long.”

  “
I know.”

  “It looks good.”

  He brushed his fingers over her cheek.

  “I’m a horrible boyfriend, and I don’t know how you put up with me. I was an even worse husband. I’m bad at life, but I have to go home some time.”

  Acting? Real? Either way it was a good effort.

  “I know.”

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  Good try. I don’t believe you, but it’s a good try.

  She drove him to the airport the very next day. The man sitting next to her in the car had little in common with the wreck arriving on her doorstep.

  Heather was right. Pinocchio fell to pieces, I put him back together, and now he’s leaving.

  Airport security came much too soon.

  How do people say goodbye and not cry?

  He wasn’t hers to keep, she always knew, but knowing didn’t diminish the sensation of dying. Marc pulled her close and kissed her goodbye.

  “Will you be okay?” Reminding him of his problems might not be the best idea, but she couldn’t keep the question in.

  “I don’t know. I’ll call you.”

  She swallowed hard as he walked through security and stopped on the other side to blow her a kiss. As soon as he couldn’t see her anymore, she turned and ran through the large building, into the first restroom. There, locked in a narrow stall, she finally allowed her tears to fall.

  It’s not fair. Why aren’t I good enough?

  At the same time as she promised herself never to let him take over her life again, it was abundantly clear she’d turn herself inside out for him the next time he called.

  Returning home held no appeal.

  What would she do with an empty apartment, now when she was used to being two?

  *****

  Marc sat on the plane, toying with the in-flight entertainment system.

  Hey, they have one of my movies. Wonder if anyone here’s gonna watch it and recognize me… Going home might not be so bad. Life has to move on, right?

  Living in Laura’s apartment had many perks, and he loved both her company and the peace and quiet, but he couldn’t stay there forever. He had been eating and sleeping well, and stayed sober for longer than he could remember.

  I feel great. Lawrence might be right. It’s time to return to reality and deal with life. If I’m not ready now I’ll never be.

  He looked forward to being back in his own spacious house, to sleeping in his own large bed, and to having a refrigerator that made ice cubes on the door.

  This good cheer lasted the entire flight and all the way to the house. Once he unlocked the front door and entered, it changed.

  Damn it’s cold in here. Didn’t the housekeeper turn the heat on? Oh crap, I think I fired her, or she quit, can’t remember which.

  It smelled closed-up and dusty. His footsteps echoed on the floor, and the large windows that seemed so merry when he bought the place together with his wife scorned him.

  I hate this place. It’s a church dedicated to loneliness, excess, and sin.

  The living room was a mess, and he grimaced when he dropped his new suitcase on the floor. Empty bottles, cigarette butts, and an abandoned pipe told a story of a party he couldn’t remember.

  The study might be better.

  It was the one room he furnished according to his own taste, and by far the most inviting.

  A lamp blinked eagerly on the answering machine.

  Damn thing is full. Maybe I should have checked it a couple of times.

  His agent’s voice asked where the hell he’d gone off to this time, and a number of sultry female voices told him to call. He couldn’t put a face to even one of them. He deleted it all and headed for the bedroom.

  A multitude of colors and flowers assaulted him, making him wince.

  How could I forget this?

  Laura’s home was decorated in soothing nuances of beige, green, and blue. Staying there for so long had erased every memory of the atrocity that was his bedroom. There had been a long argument over the shades of pink when they bought the house, and Anne didn’t just win, but made it as hideous as she could stand.

  Small victories meant a lot to her. Did she stop caring about me when I stopped caring about winning? Nothing left to fight for? And where does this goddamn mess come from?

  He stepped over a pile of dirty clothes and stared at a plate with moldy food next to an almost empty bottle of scotch. The mirror over the dresser was shattered and tiny shards of glass covered the carpet.

  He couldn’t remember how the clothes ended up where they were, or bringing any food in there. He certainly couldn’t remember destroying the large mirror. The debris and stains of whiskey on the carpet claimed he probably had.

  How the hell did I long to go back here? It’s an enormous fucking tomb.

  Laura’s place was small but had an abundance of books and DVD’s, smelled of food and cinnamon, and above all, it had her.

  Get a grip. You’re a grown man and you have to be able to cope with your own house.

  He drew a deep breath and crouched down to pick up the glass. Maybe he should refurnish. Anne was gone, and he could change whatever he wanted. No one would yell at him for taking all the clashing colors and patterns down. He no longer had a reason to live in a room that resembled a candy factory.

  Laura won’t mind.

  The last thought stopped him dead in his tracks.

  Why would she mind? She doesn’t live here, she’s never even been here.

  He shook his head at himself and continued cleaning.

  He did a good job with tidying up, and it was still just afternoon when he decided to get on with his project of fixing up the house. When thumbing through the phonebook, looking for some kind of profession that might make his bedroom less abhorrent, he automatically poured himself a large drink.

  The first handyman didn’t answer, and his fingers wandered over the keypad, dialing a friend.

  “Hey Joel. Yeah, I’m back. What’s up?”

  Chapter Seven

  Marc opened his eyes to much too bright sunlight flooding in through a broken window. He lay on a floor in an unknown room, and something made an absurd amount of noise.

  Oh, the phone.

  He struggled to get the cursed thing out of his pocket and squinted at the display before turning it off.

  I think my fucking head is about to explode. Where the hell am I?

  Joel slept stark naked on a sofa and two girls rested in each other’s arms under a table. A gray cat walked around, sniffing everything.

  If you turn into a dinosaur I’ll know you’re a hallucination. C’mon T-Rex, I dare you.

  Lifting his head from the floor and glancing down his own body didn’t impress him. He had some clothes on, but was dirty and smelled, and when he ran a hand over his face he felt a beard. Not just stubble, but a decent beard.

  How long have I been gone?

  Music streamed in from an adjacent room. Turning his head seemed like a superhuman feat and he had to squint at the light to see. A skinny, naked girl swayed slowly to her own rhythm, smoking a crack pipe.

  Laura’s voice echoed in his head, imaginary, but still giving good advice.

  “Go home, Marc. Don’t talk to anyone, just get off the floor right now and go home. Get out of this house.”

  Rising to his feet did not work well.

  The world spun and his legs were spongy.

  Laura’s illusory voice coached him.

  “You can do it. If you can’t walk, crawl. C’mon Marc, get up. Get moving.”

  He supported himself on the walls and furniture, and it took a long time to locate the front door.

  Behind him, Joel called out. “Marc, where the fuck are you going?”

  Laura’s voice in his head was stronger, insistent.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Keep going forward.”

  “Marc!”

  “Don’t listen. Walk out of the house.”

  He staggered
out the front door and shielded his eyes from blinding sunshine.

  What am I, a fucking vampire? Feels like Imma catch fire.

  All the houses looked exactly the same.

  Great. I’m stuck somewhere in suburbia. This could be anywhere. I don’t even know what country I’m in.

  Laura’s voice in his head was firm.

  “Keep going forward, away from here. Call a taxi or call a friend, just don’t stop moving.”

  Wonder of all wonders, a cab sat in one of the driveways, and the driver helped an old lady into the house. Marc tried to jog, but the effort only rewarded him with a fit of coughing.

  “Hey! Wait up, I need a ride.”

  Where’s my wallet?

  Patting down his pockets revealed nothing; he had no money.

  He took his watch off with shaking hands and held it out.

  “This is a thirty thousand dollar Rolex. It’s real. You can have it if you drive me home, and give me your sunglasses.”

  The driver didn’t look convinced. Then, he said, “I know you. You’re on TV. Is this for a show? Is there a camera here somewhere?”

  “Just drive, will you.”

  Laura’s voice cheered him on.

  “You’re doing great, Marc. You’re almost there.”

  He answered aloud without meaning to.

  “I wish you were here.”

  The driver peeked at him in the rear view mirror.

  “What’s that, Sir?”

  “Nothing.”

  The cab ride made him car sick and the route from the driveway to the door seemed endless.

  Where’s my key? Don’t tell me I have to break a fucking window to get into my own house.

  He threw up in a snowy flowerbed and made another attempt at opening the door, but the key was nowhere to be found.

  It never snows here. When did it become winter, anyway?

  Eventually, he made his way around the building and found the kitchen door wide open. He had just left the house, without even closing the door behind him. Snow had blown all over the kitchen floor, but other than that, everything seemed untouched. As if he cared…

  The house was freezing, but that was okay. The cool, soothing darkness of the living room never seemed more welcoming. He sank down in a chair, congratulated himself on making it all the way there, and passed out.