Holding On

by Karen Stivali

  Three hours later he walked back down the corridor. He could see that Christina’s door was open and paused before he reached it. What if she thought it was total rubbish? He hadn’t planned on having anyone read it—it was more a form of therapy than a writing exercise. His stomach tensed as he peeked into her office. She was at her desk, leaning back in her chair, a book open in her lap. Oh, good, she’s reading something else. Maybe she didn’t read my stuff at all.

  “There you are.” She looked up and motioned toward the chair next to her desk. “I’ve been waiting for you. Close the door.”

  Close the door? Oh God. She read it and she hated it. She needs privacy to tell me. He closed the door and took a seat, rubbing his thumb along the square armrest, bracing himself for a barrage of criticism.

  “How long have you been working on this?” She held up his screenplay.

  He was tempted to grab it and leave. “Just a few months. It’s my insomnia project while Marienne’s been pregnant. It’s really just—”

  “It’s fantastic.”

  Wait. What? He gaped at her.

  She flipped through it, nodding. “The whole thing, the characters, the situations, the emotions. It’s brilliant. Not to mention hilarious. I nearly peed my pants—for real—I didn’t want to stop reading to go to the bathroom.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” He was waiting for the punch line. Christina was notoriously critical of everything she read. She never liked anything.

  “I’m totally serious. I had three cups of coffee this morning. I really had to pee.”

  “Not what I meant.”

  She blinked at him.

  He sighed. “Come on, you’ve said the nice things, now tell me what you really thought.” He shifted in the chair, waiting.

  “I just did. I love it. I mean there are a few things here or there you could tweak, but otherwise it’s great. What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m going to take it back from my kleptomaniacal coworker and put it in a box somewhere.”

  “Oh no, no, no. You can sell this.”

  Daniel laughed. “Okay, fine, give me twenty bucks.” He held out his hand.

  She swatted it away. “I’m not kidding.”

  “Neither am I. Where’s my twenty?”

  To his amazement she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.

  “Here.” She smushed a bill into his hand. “But I’m keeping it. I want to read it again.”

  “Fine.” Daniel shook his head. His stomach rumbled. “Have you had lunch yet?”

  “No, I’ve been too busy reading this brilliant new writer and trying not to wet myself.”

  “Let’s go grab some food. On me.” He held up the twenty. “I just sold my first screenplay.”

  Chapter Seven

  The fall weather was turning colder, and Daniel sipped from his hot mug of coffee to warm up while he prepared his next lecture, adding notes as he went.

  “Daniel.” Christina’s voice echoed across the corridor.

  “What?” he yelled back.

  “Get in here.”

  Daniel finished the sentence he was typing and pushed away from his desk. “What is it?” he asked, walking into her office.

  “Sit down. Close the door.”

  “You’re awfully bossy today.” He took a seat and started playing with the slinky she kept on her desk.

  “Today?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “I was being nice.”

  “You’re too nice,” she said. “That’s your problem.”

  “Did you call me in here to psychoanalyze me? Because if you did I’d really prefer if you got a couch, this chair isn’t quite doing it for me. Though the slinky is a nice touch.” He ran the spring back and forth between his hands.

  “As much as I’d love to discuss your mental health, no. I called you in here to discuss this.” She tossed his screenplay onto his lap. “Don’t get mad.”

  Oh God. “What have you done?”

  “I may have given it to Philip Porter over at Tisch.”

  Daniel’s mouth fell open. “You what?”

  “And he sort of gave it to a friend of his at Paramount. And it seems they want to meet you.”

  “Meet me? What on earth for? I can’t believe this has been passed around to people.”

  “I think they’re interested in purchasing it. They want to make the movie.”

  Daniel stared at her. He couldn’t even blink.

  “I know.” She nodded. “It’s amazing isn’t it?”

  “Amazing?” He shook his head, certain he was still hearing her wrong, though the tension in his stomach told him otherwise. “You’re telling me someone is actually considering turning my script into a movie?”

  “More than considering it, from what I’ve heard. ‘Very excited’ were the words I was told.” She paused. “Stay calm.”

  What now? His mind raced.

  “I’ve set up a lunch meeting for you. Today.”

  “You what?” He dropped the slinky, and it walked off the chair onto the floor. “Where? With whom?”

  “Breathe.”

  “If you were worried about me breathing you shouldn’t have been passing my script all over town.”

  Christina put her hand on his arm. “I checked your schedule, you’re free and now you have hardly any time to obsess before the meeting. Go teach your class, then head to lunch. And give me all the details the minute you get back.”

  Chapter Eight

  Marienne strode down Prince Street looking for Christina’s apartment. The street was busy for a Thursday night, bustling with holiday shoppers. Marienne was glad she’d found a parking spot on Spring Street. It wasn’t too chilly, but a recent snow had left the streets lined with deep grey slush puddles.

  She spotted the building number and crossed the street. She scanned the list of names on the intercom and pressed the button. The buzzer went off and the door clicked. Marienne made her way up the narrow staircase to the second floor. The door swung open before she knocked. Christina greeted her with her typical Cheshire cat smile. “You made it. Come on in.”

  “Of course I made it, this is by far the hippest party we get invited to every year.”

  Christina laughed. “You two do not get out enough. Daniel’s not here yet. Can I get you a drink? We’ve got juice and soda. I know you can’t have anything fun.”

  “Ginger ale?”

  “Follow me.”

  Marienne squeezed her way past the group of people clustered by the table of food. The loft was roomy, with high ceilings and walls of bookcases.

  “You can throw your coat on the bed.” Christina pointed behind the wall of burgundy curtains that separated the bedroom from the main room.

  Marienne tossed her coat on the pile then headed toward the kitchen. She noticed a painting she hadn’t seen before.

  “That’s lovely.” Marienne pointed to the large square piece. “Is it new?”

  “Amy painted that in grad school. I’ve been telling her to hang it for years but she never thinks her work is good enough.”

  “She’s wrong. It’s gorgeous.” Marienne studied the colors, swirls of red and orange like a sunset made of flowers.

  “You should tell her that. When I say it, she assumes I’m just being a good wife.” Christina handed Marienne a champagne glass of ginger ale. “So, how are you feeling? You look fantastic. You’re glowing like a ripe mango.”

  “I feel wonderful.” Marienne’s free hand went to her stomach.

  “I’m proud of you for letting Daniel get the lion’s share of morning sickness.”

  Marienne laughed. “I know, poor thing. I think he’s finally over that.”

  “Yeah, just in time for him to get nauseated about the revisions on his screenplay. He has no idea how incredible it is that they requested so few changes.”

  Screenplay? Revisions? “Wait. What?”

  “The changes the producer suggested, so he can finalize the offer.” Christina�
�s eyes scanned Marienne’s. “Oh God. He has told you about the producer, right?”

  Marienne’s heart was pounding. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Should I?”

  Christina took a gulp of wine. “I’ve got such a big fucking mouth. Daniel’s going to strangle me.”

  “Not if I kill him first. What screenplay? Is he working on someone’s script?”

  “No, he wrote one. A brilliant one. He said he hadn’t let anyone read it but I assumed that meant anyone besides you. He didn’t even want me to read it, but I did and I loved it so much I gave it to a friend of mine and now Paramount wants to buy it. He’s totally wigging out.”

  Marienne was too stunned to speak. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about this. Her cheeks burned with anger. Hurt stung the backs of her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry I told you like this. I really thought you knew. Don’t be too hard on him. He’s really freaked out by this whole thing. It’s happened insanely fast. Knowing Daniel he didn’t want to worry you.”

  Marienne could see the concern on Christina’s face. She knew she was right. Daniel was probably trying to protect her in some way. But she was still pissed.

  “Speak of the handsome devil.” Christina raised her glass and Marienne turned to see Daniel striding toward her. His face brightened the moment Marienne made eye contact. His smile alone was almost enough to make her forget her anger. Almost.

  ****

  Daniel scanned the room looking for Marienne. His pulse quickened the second he saw her. She looked tiny standing next to Christina, who was easily a head taller. He took in the generous swell of her profile beneath her purple sweater dress. She looked incredible.

  Her huge eyes were even rounder and darker than usual. He walked straight to her and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Hey.” He leaned in for a quick kiss.

  She stiffened at his touch.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Her voice was steady, but clipped.

  “You’re gonna need this.” Christina handed him a bottle of beer. “I’m so sorry.” She scooted past Daniel and disappeared among the guests.

  Daniel’s heart was beating in his ears. “What is she sorry about? Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I hear you’ve written a screenplay.” Marienne’s words were cool, and he could hear the pain behind them.

  Bugger. He raked his hands through his hair. “I…”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just…I guess…” Why didn’t I?

  Amy swept over to them. “There you two are.” She gave Daniel a sideways hug and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. She was even more petite than Marienne, flitting around like a butterfly, the total opposite of Christina. “Marienne, you look amazing.” Her hand ran over Marienne’s stomach. “Come. I want to introduce you to some people. You can talk to your husband any time.”

  Daniel watched as Amy dragged Marienne away by the hand. The look in her eyes was killing him.

  Christina reappeared behind him. “Do you hate me?”

  “I’m too consumed by self-loathing at the moment. You I’ll hate tomorrow.”

  “It never occurred to me you hadn’t told her.”

  Daniel took a long drink of beer. “I know. It’s not your fault. I should have told her. I’ve no idea why I didn’t.” That wasn’t entirely true. He had some idea why.

  ****

  Marienne managed to avoid Daniel for the next several hours, going out of her way to chat with other guests. Every time she caught sight of him, he threw her a tortured look. Good. Let him be upset. He’s lucky I didn’t throw a drink in his face.

  When it was time to leave, he helped her on with her coat. He flipped her hair out from beneath her collar. The touch of his fingers made her want to forget her anger, but she couldn’t. She planned on waiting until they were in the car to start talking, but Daniel began the moment they left the building.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned her toward him.

  She avoided his eyes, knowing the look in them might well make her forgive him on the spot.

  “I’m truly sorry. I’m an arse.”

  “I won’t argue that.” Her breath puffed cold and smoky in the night air but she felt overheated. “I can’t believe you would keep something this important from me. I can’t believe you could.”

  What else aren’t you telling me?

  “I didn’t set out to keep it from you.”

  “Well you sure did a good job of it for something you weren’t trying to do.” She pulled away and started walking toward the car. Daniel followed, repeatedly trying to place his hand on her back. She wrenched away whenever he made contact.

  Daniel held the door as she got into the passenger seat. She busied herself with the seatbelt then stared out the window, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stand her silence.

  “I really wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I didn’t intend for anyone to ever read it. I wrote it when I was up all those nights with insomnia. It wasn’t something I even planned to write. It just happened.”

  “How does an entire screenplay just happen? Did you accidentally write a children’s book and your memoirs, too?”

  “No. Just this one thing.”

  Marienne sighed. Being mad at him was draining. “What’s it about?”

  Daniel paused.

  Anger flashed through her. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

  “Give me a minute. I don’t have a bloody elevator pitch at the ready.” She could hear the tension in his voice. “It’s about four men who are each expecting their first child and how they handle it.”

  “Go on.” Her mind raced, trying to figure out why he wouldn’t want her to know about it.

  “The four of them are friends, but they’re different ages and they’re all in very different situations, so it explores their reactions to impending fatherhood.”

  “Like The Brotherhood of the Travelling Baby Bjorn?”

  ****

  Daniel was relieved to hear her make a joke, even though he knew she was trying to be snotty. “Not exactly, though perhaps that could be the sequel. It’s more about their thoughts during the pregnancies. Their hopes and fears. The things that freak them out.” He glanced over at her. Her brow was no longer as tightly furrowed.

  “Are you one of the guys?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Then why wouldn’t you tell me about it?”

  Daniel changed lanes and put the car on cruise control. “Actually I think you just pointed out one of the reasons. I know it’s natural for people to assume that writers are writing about themselves, and I didn’t want you looking for us in these characters. We’re not there. I mean sure, some of the things the guys worry about are things I’ve worried about, but the majority of their thoughts are theirs alone.”

  Marienne shifted so she was facing him. “Be more specific.”

  “One of the characters is in his early twenties and newly married and didn’t want children. Another is in his late twenties—closest to our age—and he’s worried his girlfriend’s baby isn’t his. There’s a forty-ish player who got a woman pregnant on a one-night-stand but now realizes he wants to be a father. And the thirty-something guy and his wife had so many fertility issues that by the time they actually conceived he was already a basket case.”

  Marienne remained quiet. He knew the wheels were spinning as she tried to determine which character he’d related to the most. She stared at her lap.

  “This is precisely what I wanted to avoid. I didn’t want to add to your stress level,” he said.

  “Why would reading it add to my stress level? Are there things in it that I should be stressed about?” Her voice rose higher.

  “What? No. My characters are quite neurotic. I didn’t want to give you ideas for new things to worry about.” He reached over and picked up her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away. “Do you want
to read it?” The base of his throat tightened as he waited for her reply.

  “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “I want whatever will make you not hurt anymore. I’m sorry.”

  Marienne laid her head on his arm. Her thumb trailed beneath his coat sleeve and rubbed against his wrist. “I’d like to read it.”

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  “Tonight.”

  Oh God.

  Chapter Nine

  “Paper or laptop?” Daniel asked, feeling nauseated. He’d tried to convince Marienne to wait until morning, but she insisted she wanted to read it as soon as the babysitter left. They’d compromised and she’d agreed to read in bed.

  “Whichever.” Marienne’s cheeks glowed, her eyes wary as she watched him open his briefcase.

  “Paper won’t run out of battery if you fall asleep.” He handed her his only copy.

  Marienne headed toward the staircase with his screenplay clutched in her arms. “Aren’t you coming up?”

  “To watch you read and try to guess what every look that crosses your face means? Uh, no. I’ll come check on you if I hear snoring.”

  “I don’t snore. And I won’t be falling asleep until I’m done.”

  Daniel listened, expecting to hear her brush her teeth or at least use the bathroom, but all he heard was the headboard thump once as she climbed into bed.

  What if she hates it? Will she tell me? What if she thinks all of the characters are really me? Daniel didn’t know what to worry about more. He rubbed his temples. He had totally poured his own fears into the screenplay, but there was no character based on him. They were exaggerations or downright opposites. None of the women were even remotely like Marienne either. His mind ran through the scenes wondering how fast she was reading and how she was reacting. He was glad screenplays weren’t very long.

  ****

  Marienne heard the television as she crept down the stairs. She wondered what Daniel had done to keep himself busy while she was reading. Now she knew. He was watching a movie. She rounded the corner to the family room and smiled when she saw him. He was slumped on the couch, long legs wide apart, one bobbing nervously. His arms were wrapped around his chest but one thumb rubbed against his lips. The flickering light from the TV highlighted his profile. His dark hair shone almost blue.