by David Boyle
“No, Joseph, I don’t. I’m at a loss.” She threw up her hands in disheartened wonder. “He’s my costar. But what’s your point? Do you even have one?”
Joseph folded his arms in front of him. “I guess I’m going to have to spell it out for you, huh?”
“Guess so.”
He leaned toward her. “After that barbecue last summer, we were sitting on the couch with a few friends. That party for your theatre-pal Vicky who got that big role. That ring a bell?”
Darlene nodded, then gazed around her, exasperated. “Where’re you going with this, Joseph? I have to get back to work.”
“I bet you can’t wait, can you?”
“How can you say that? How can someone as smart and rational as you be so damn ignorant sometimes?”
Joseph stepped forward, his body so close to Darlene’s that a casual observer would think they were about to kiss. “Don’t blame the liquor on this one, Dar, but that night you girls talked about who you’d spend the night with if you weren’t married. If you could be single again. Do you remember who you picked?”
Darlene swallowed, her face reddened.
“I’ll repeat myself, Darlene. Don’t blame the liquor.”
“That was just a silly game among a bunch of giggly girls. It’s nothing to be taken seriously. You’re telling me you’ve never played that game with your buddies?”
Joseph smirked. “Sure, I’ve played it. But I’m not the one getting intimate with my fantasy date...am I?”
“We’ll talk about this later, Joseph, I have to go. The rest of my day is a waste because of these crazy ideas, these accusations.”
In his peripheral vision Joseph saw Cavanaugh making his way back to the set. Cavanaugh glanced in Joseph’s direction and dipped his head, acknowledging him. About twenty feet ahead of Cavanaugh, his wife awaited him with their child by her side. Joseph wondered what Cavanaugh’s wife thought about his having to kiss and fondle another woman.
Joseph couldn’t help noticing Cavanaugh’s near-perfect body, a physique that made him self-conscious about his own lack of muscle tone, even though he was in good shape. “Spare me, Darlene. I’m sure it won’t be too hard to pretend that you’re lusting for Cavanaugh. Based on what I saw earlier, you’re better at it with Muscle Boy than you are with me.”
“That’s cold, Joseph. That hurts. I’m so disappointed in you.” Darlene walked away.
Joseph mumbled, “What a surprise.” Then he made his way back to his car.
As he left the set he felt withdrawn. He could barely think clearly. Although he was not feeling up to attending it, he had a meeting with one of his clients in thirty minutes. He wished to postpone the arrangement and go home for the rest of the day. It would be impossible for him to focus on anything right now, especially business. So he made a few calls and went home.
Staring out his kitchen window as he sipped from a can of soda, Joseph thought about his unproductive day and his inability to forget about what he’d seen at his wife’s movie set. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 11:58 p.m., much later than he’d expected Darlene to work. He himself had been up too late, much too late for someone who had one meeting after another scheduled for tomorrow, the first one at seven o’clock. Having drunk seven cans of soda today—something he’d never done—he didn’t feel tired enough to fall asleep anytime soon.
As he put the empty can into the garbage, he heard Darlene’s car pulling into the driveway. That dreadfully familiar tension was festering. All he wanted to do, though, was sort things out with Darlene before the situation became more troubling. Joseph leaned against the wall across from the front door, his arms at his sides, his knuckles tapping the panel. A key turned in the lock and the door opened. Darlene entered the room and immediately noticed Joseph waiting for her. “I thought you’d be asleep, Joseph. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Wake me? How could I possibly rest after the day I had?”
“What’s got you down? Aside from what happened this morning, I mean?”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Darlene. What happened this morning is exactly what screwed up my day. It clearly hasn’t affected you in the least. Has it?”
Darlene tossed her purse on the couch, then removed her coat and placed it on top. “Will you please stop badge-ring me? How much longer can you carry on this way? I’m not the only actress in the world who has to do an erotic scene in a movie. If you were in my shoes we wouldn’t be having this confusing conversation, would we?”
“Of course not,” Joseph said confidently. “I wouldn’t take roles that would put me in such an awkward position.”
“You’re so full of crap, Joseph. Do you hear yourself? Do you?”
He didn’t respond. He walked over to their fireplace and picked up the poker, then started jabbing the charred logs in the hearth. Ashes floated above the timber, the logs hissed. With the poker dangling from his hand, he rose to his feet and turned toward Darlene, shaking his head, grunting.
Darlene’s eyes gaped. “Are you going to answer me, Joseph?”
“I sure am,” he said. “You’re going to quit that movie. There you have it.”
Darlene huffed. “You don’t get to make that decision, Joe. This is my career. I’ve waited years for decent work. Work that pays well. That may lead to better opportunities. I’m not throwing all that away for anybody.”
Joseph leaned the poker against the fireplace. “Even me? Your husband?”
“If you love me and respect me, you’d understand. What you saw today was purely innocent, part of playing the character. And to be perfectly honest with you, whether you like it or not, I don’t want to be just a housewife working dead-end jobs from time to time. Again… the scene I did meant nothing. It was just acting. Nothing more.”
“There’s no doubt that you were heavily engrossed. You had me believing you were hot for him rather than me.” Joseph hadn’t responded to her allegations of his wanting her to be a housewife, an option he had discussed with her frequently over the years. Darlene had never expressed interest in that way of life. She had said that she liked having her own mind, her own ambitions, being self-sufficient and resourceful, making a more substantial contribution to the household.
“I’m tired of explaining myself to you, Joseph. You’re insane to think I would do anything to hurt what we have. There are other actors that are married who have to do love scenes, you know. It’s not uncommon.”
“I don’t care about them,” he said. “You’re my wife…this is our life.” Joseph started pacing the floor. “Let’s make a deal, Darlene. Let’s be brutally honest with each other and move past this.” His words suddenly flowed calmly. It was as if he hadn’t been arguing. On the surface, he was not as controlled; he looked sweaty and pallid.
“O...kay,” Darlene mumbled, unsure what he had in mind.
Joseph stared at Darlene. She had wiped her palms on her slacks and slid one foot out of her shoe.
Joseph took a step forward, noticing she had become fidgety. “Nervous?”
In a low scratchy voice she said, “Of course not, Joe.”
He walked up to Darlene and put his hands on her shoulders. “If you answer this question honestly...our life can get back to normal. I promise.”
“Whatever it takes, Joe. Really.” Darlene swallowed, scratched her arm. She had no idea what Joe was about to ask but she was perspiring from head to toe.
Joe moistened his dry mouth with his tongue. “Did you enjoy kissing Cavanaugh?”
Darlene’s stomach knotted. Joseph smirked. About ten seconds passed in complete silence. “The court will wait for an answer,” he said.
Darlene rolled her eyes but Joseph hadn’t seen it. As he walked away from her and toward the other side of the room, Darlene’s eyes glazed with tears. She breathed deeply and licked her quivering lips. “Yes,” she said. “I…I did.”
Though he had anticipated a different answer—a placating answer—hearing the word “yes” felt as thoug
h an ice pick had pierced his heart. “I knew it. You bitch.”
Darlene gasped. Joseph had never before called her a bitch, or anything else that vulgar. She walked away from him and toward the staircase.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Joseph asked. “We’re not done here.”
“Well, I am,” she said, climbing the stairs.
“This isn’t over yet, Darlene. Not by a long shot.”
She shouted over her shoulder, “You said it would be, though.” Before she made it to the bedroom, Joseph had intercepted her. He wedged his arm between Darlene and the open door, blocking her path. Darlene tried to push away his arm but she couldn’t move it.
“Hear me out, Darlene, okay?”
“I’ve been hearing you out. And now I’m exhausted and I want to lie down and forget that any of this has happened. It’s utterly ridiculous.”
Joseph removed his arm. “Fine. Do what you want. Run away from the problem.”
Darlene went to the night stand, picked up the remote control, and hit a button, turning on the TV. She lay on the bed and flipped through channels, ignoring the look of disgust on Joseph’s face, as well as his uneven breathing, his bloodshot eyes.
“I want to know why you never told me that you were working with Cavanaugh.”
Irritated, Darlene turned her head toward him, sneered. “You can’t leave this alone, can you? You know...there are other actors in the world who actually have to work with attractive people. It doesn’t mean they have thoughts about them or that they are attracted to them.”
“What if it were me, Darlene? Have you ever thought about that, Mrs. Self-Involved? What if I had my tongue in some sexy young girl’s mouth for the whole world to see, knowing that I’m a married man? Don’t tell me that wouldn’t bother you.”
Darlene switched off the TV and threw the remote across their bed. She threw it so hard that it went over the edge and onto the floor. The back panel came loose and the batteries rolled across the carpet. “It would bother me if you were having an affair, Joseph. Of course. But if you were an actor doing what you were told, it wouldn’t bother me at all. AT ALL.”
“You’re so full of shit, Darlene. How can you be so disingenuous?”
“Look, Joseph, you’re always wining and dining your clients. For years you’ve been taking them to lunches and dinners at strip joints and burlesque clubs—you guys call them “gentlemen’s clubs”—but I’m not an idiot.”
Joseph was about to interrupt.
“Please,” Darlene said, “let me have my turn, damn it. I know that young pretty women are dancing erotically in front of you and the rest of those corporate pigs. And you likely get off on it too. But I’ve never hassled you because I know that’s not the real you. You’ve proven to me that you go there because that’s what they want—as hard as that is to believe sometimes.”
Joseph said nothing. A tear had fallen down Darlene’s cheek, and she wiped it away with her shirt sleeve. “Can we please end this? I have two more days left of shooting. I’m hoping that this gig will bring me steadier work.”
Sullen, Joseph looked around the room.
Darlene sat on the edge of the bed. “As much as you don’t want to hear this, being in a Cavanaugh film may be the big break I’ve been looking for. I’m certain that I’m going to benefit from this job and help give us a better life. Wouldn’t you want that for us? For me?”
Joseph nodded weakly. He stared at the floor.
Darlene got up and walked over to him, sighed. “I’d been working crappy part-time jobs for five years until this gig came along. Now my half-assed agent has finally pulled a few strings and put me in a film that’s going to get wide distribution. I don’t want to make any mistakes, not now.”
Joseph gently put his hands on Darlene’s shoulders, caressed them. “Okay,” he mumbled. “I just can’t handle the thought of any other man touching you. I feel violated… even though it’s not me being touched.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you about the scene. It didn’t mean anything to me either. When they say ‘roll camera’ I just follow the script. Although I guess I should have told you what they were asking of me, huh?”
“Yeah,” Joseph said. Their eyes locked for a brief, speechless moment. “I’m going to get some air. Then I’m going to lie down.”
“Okay,” Darlene said. “Do what you have to do.”
After Darlene had fallen asleep, Joseph felt the urge to get out of the house and clear his head. So he got in his car and took a ride. The summer air was crisp, cool and refreshing, the dark sky alive with stars. Joseph drove the long winding highway which hugged the cliffside, a wonderfully scenic journey at any time of day—especially after darkness fell, when the lights skirting the valley below could be appreciated. Sometimes he traveled this way when entertaining clients. Often he needed a quiet place away from the city to talk business: Not all of his customers were drawn to the noise and congestion of bars. He and Darlene had frequently cruised the highway on lazy Sunday afternoons.
Joseph had been thinking about Darlene’s career, how hard she’d tried to break into the movie business. She had done a few small commercials over the years, as well as a few guest spots on local television programs. But finding a way into major films had been her dream. Ever since completing a month’s worth of acting classes five years ago, she had felt compelled to pursue the art more seriously. Joseph did not want to stand in her way, nor did he want other men he didn’t know having a free pass—whether it was part of the job or not—to put their hands on Darlene. Though from time to time he had taken his customers to lunch and dinner at clubs, he had never had the urge to stray from his wife. Just maybe, he thought, he could overlook one facet of Darlene’s work and be more supportive. He could overlook one scripted kiss. Shooting would be over in two days and Darlene could move on to something else. Perhaps work on the Children’s Network would open up, work that she had always liked. In the meantime he would have to be more flexible. Letting go of his insecurities, giving his wife the freedom to explore her creative side—he would have to take these steps if their marriage was going to improve.
When Joseph returned home from his long ride he found that Darlene had left. A note was on her pillow. “Sorry to leave. Director called. Wants to shoot through the night. It’s a long story. I’ll explain tomorrow. Stop by if you want. I love you, Joseph. Always!”
As Joseph read the note he became choked up. Despite the tumult of the day, he knew that everything would get better. He loved Darlene too. And he felt reassured knowing she felt the same way, although her note was the first time in weeks she’d reminded him of her love for him. Now Joseph felt more at ease, and, just before midnight, he fell asleep.
At 2:45 a.m. he was awakened by the opening of the front door. As he sat up on the couch he saw Darlene, her face wet with tears, walking toward him. Without hesitating, Joseph jumped off the couch and went to her side, wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong, Darlene? Damn it, what happened to you?”
Darlene wiped her face with a tissue. “I just want to sit down,” she mumbled.
Joseph assisted her to the couch and eased her onto the seat, then wrapped an afghan around her. He went to the kitchen. “I’ll put some tea on for you.”
After putting the kettle on the stove, he returned to the couch and tried to comfort his wife, who had stopped crying for the moment and was drying her eyes. Joseph grabbed a fresh handkerchief from his suit jacket and gave it to her. He sat next to her on the couch, rubbed her back, her arm, her head. “Talk to me, Dar. What the heck is going on?”
“It’s Evan.”
“The director?”
Darlene nodded.
“What about him?” Joseph had no idea what she was about to say but he could feel his entire body coiling from tension again. He took a deep breath. Darlene hadn’t answered yet. “Well...what about him?”
Darlene shook her head. She fingered the handkerchief in her hand and, without l
ifting her head, began speaking. “Everything was...was running...fine.”
Darlene squeezed the handkerchief. She slipped off her shoes and kicked them away from her. She made eye contact with Joseph, who looked at her concernedly.
“We were about to finish shooting,” she uttered. “We were going to wrap a day early...until...”
“Until what?” Joseph asked.
A tear traced her cheek; another fell onto her shaking hand.
“Go on,” Joseph said, goading.
“Until Evan called me in his office, and...”
“Why are you making this so difficult, Darlene? Just come out with it. I’m here for you. If he did something to you I’ll kill him.”
Darlene shook her head and licked her lips repeatedly. “He said that the producers...” Darlene raised her head toward the ceiling and rolled her eyes. “They demanded I do a love scene with Cavanaugh. Full nudity.” Darlene started weeping.
It took every bit of restraint Joseph had to listen to those words and not express his complete fear of the truth, the unmitigated anxiety of knowing that some stranger was going to touch his wife again and bring all those unpleasant feelings to the surface. Joseph turned away from her and got off the couch. His palms were clammy, his neck too. He could feel the pressure mounting, strangling him. But he knew he would have to hide his true feelings beneath the surface. He couldn’t let Darlene know that he was livid; that he wanted her to quit the acting business and choose a job which would not interfere with their marriage, which would not cause a rift between them.
Darlene stood. She took a few strides forward and grabbed Joseph by the arms, turned him toward her. At that precise moment, Joseph saw an unusual look in his wife’s eyes, a look he had never seen before—a look that made his heart beat out of sequence.
“There’s one more thing, Joseph.”
“I’m not sure that I can take much more of this, Darlene. Haven’t I been through enough?”
Darlene retreated a step or two. “How about what I’ve been through?”
