Let Me Count The Ways

by P. G. Forte

  She paused. I nodded. “Okay,” I said with what I hoped was a sympathetic and encouraging expression. “Go on.”

  “See, the thing is, I didn’t always use the best judgment in picking projects. And when I was young and naïve, people told me I had to do certain things to advance my career and I believed them. I know it was stupid, Mike, but you hear so much about ‘paying your dues’ in this industry and I thought this was part of it. And that’s really why I did them. A lot of people haven’t believed me when I’ve said that. They thought I must have done it for the money. I didn’t. Although, it was nice, for a change, not having to choose between paying the rent and eating. And I didn’t get off on doing them either... well, I mean, I did, but that wasn’t why.”

  Again she paused, looking pained, uncertain, worried. Again I nodded. “Okay.”

  “There ended up being quite a few of them, actually, and they were pretty edgy for the time--what I believe they call ‘gonzo’ nowadays.”

  I nodded again, trying to curb my impatience. I supposed there was a reason she was giving me all this background information, but I still had no idea where she was going with it. “Okay,” I prompted once again, hoping to speed things up.

  She frowned. “Okay? Is that all you’re going to say? Aren’t you the least bit shocked?”

  “By what? You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know, have you? You’re an actress. You’ve made a lot of movies. Some of them were better than others. I’m still waiting for you to get to the point.”

  “That is the point,” she answered coldly. “I made adult movies. You know--porn?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I know.” Then it hit me. “Wait. That’s it?” I stared at her in disbelief. “That’s your big issue? The thing I couldn’t handle, the thing that’s supposed to change the way I feel about you?” The back-draft of emotion left me speechless for half a second, then everything inside me detonated. “Are you fucking crazy? Do you know the kind of hell you put me through these last few days? You broke up with me. I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought I’d done something horrible. Not to mention all that ‘I just want you for a friend’ bullshit--Do you know how lousy that made me feel? And it was all because of this?”

  She’d wrenched herself away from me when I started yelling. Now, she stared at me warily, not saying a word, looking poised to run. But I no longer cared.

  Catching my breath again, I continued my rant. “God damn it, Claire! I’ve been losing sleep for weeks, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing wrong. Wondering why you kept coming on to me, then running away again. And this place...” I swept my arms out, encompassing the room, the house, the canyon. “Look at it! Don’t you think if I’d been here, if I hadn’t been going crazy looking for you, I could have maybe saved some of it? I could at least have taken Zoe to safety. I wouldn’t have spent two days imagining the worst, seeing her go up in flames every time I closed my eyes!”

  At that, Claire’s eyes blazed. “So that’s my fault now, too? I know I said I made mistakes, Mike, but I don’t think you can blame the entire fucking wildfire on me! And don’t you dare yell at me like that.” She stamped her foot in fury. “A few days? A few weeks? Try spending years in hell, then come talk to me about your problems. At least three of my marriages fell apart over this ‘issue’, Mike, so yeah, I do happen to think it’s a big deal. Oh, and, just for the record? I lost houses too, you know. Several times over. I spent a fortune over the years--lawyers, divorce settlements, squelching tabloid stories, paying off photographers, all kinds of crap--fucking blackmail, most of it. And all because of my past. So you have no right to judge me, Mike. None.”

  “I’m not judging you, damn it! That’s my whole point. Don’t you know me at all? I’d never do something like that. I can’t believe you’d think so poorly of me.”

  She shook her head. “Please. Do you know how many friends I’ve had stab me in the back over the years? You’re a sweet man, Mike, but I’m afraid the jury’s still out on you. You’re not the first person to say it doesn’t matter. People always think it won’t change the way they feel. But, most of the time, it really does.”

  She met my eyes, looking tragic, haunted, hurt. Looking resigned. “Now that you know, you’ll probably want to see them--out of morbid curiosity, if nothing else. Maybe you’ll tell yourself you’re doing it just to prove that you’re fine with it, that it doesn’t matter, that it doesn’t change everything. I’m sure you’ll be able to dig up a few stray copies. After you’ve seen them, then you come talk to me about your feelings, Mike. Tell me then how they haven’t changed. How I still seem so perfect, so pure, so... or you know what? Better yet, don’t tell me. Because I’ve been there before and I don’t think I can bear to go through it again. I really don’t.”

  We stared at each other in silence. My brain felt charred, burned out, useless. I could no longer tell if I wanted to hold her close and reassure her--or curse at her for her lack of faith. Just like I couldn’t guess how she’d react to what I was about to do. Would she feel redeemed? Relieved? Would she recognize that she’d been mistaken? Or would she simply view it as yet another reason to reject me? She wasn’t the only one with secrets.

  I crossed to the cabinet where I kept my movies and other memorabilia. I unlatched the door, pulled a few cassettes and a couple of DVDs from the shelves, more or less at random, then returned to where she was standing.

  “Here,” I said as I thrust them into her hands. “Now, you wanna tell me again how something I’ve known about since before we even met is gonna change the way I feel about you?”

  She blinked rapidly, heat flooded her cheeks. “You--you’ve seen these?”

  I nodded and jerked my thumb in the direction of the cabinet. “I’ve seen everything. Go check it out if you don’t believe me. And you’re right, by the way, some of them aren’t very good. But you were always wonderful.”

  She closed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” she asked faintly.

  “Sooner? I did tell you! I told you weeks ago.”

  Her eyes opened again. She frowned at me. “When? I don’t remember you saying anything about...”

  “At the gallery opening. You said you’d made some films out here. I told you then that I’d seen them.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Still looking perplexed she asked, “How could you know where they were made?”

  I shrugged. “I recognized some of the locations.”

  “You... what?”

  “I’ve lived out here awhile, you know.”

  Speculation crept into her gaze. “I don’t even know how that’s possible. You must have looked at them an awful lot to be able to pick out locations.”

  Which was just what I wanted to talk about. Not. Grabbing the movies from her hands, I stuffed them back into the cabinet. “You know what? I can’t deal with this right now. I’ve got... issues of my own.” I indicated the room around us even though I knew the real issues had nothing to do with the fire, and everything to do with her. With her reaction to my own confession. “Why don’t you go home now, Claire? Or go to work--I’m sure I’ve kept you away long enough already. And I really think I need to be alone for a while.”

  The startled look on her face ever since I opened the cabinet, the fear in her eyes, the suspicion in her voice--you must have looked at them a lot-- had put me in the mood to break a few more windows. Alone would be a good thing. As I re-closed the cabinet I noticed that my hands had started to shake. Alone would be a very good thing.

  “You’re sending me away?” The tremor in Claire’s voice nearly put me over the edge.

  “Hell, no,” I told her as I picked Zoe up and headed for the kitchen, where I kept my address and phone book. “Why in hell would I have to do that?”

  Vet. Insurance agent. Bank. Office-- maybe focusing my attention on the list of calls I had to make could help calm me?

  “Mike?”

  “Your car’s here, isn’t it? And yo
u’ve shown yourself more than capable of leaving. So just go.”

  “But what about you?” Claire asked, splashing after me. “Are you ready to leave too? Do you want a ride back to your car?”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks. I can walk.”

  “Walk?” The softness faded from her voice. She stopped walking and glared at me. “What are you talking about? Why the hell would you want to walk?”

  “Why not? It’s exercise, isn’t it?”

  “It’s stupid, is what it is!!

  “Thank you. Nice to know your high opinion of me extends to my intelligence now, too.” I pulled a chair away from the table. I had to put Zoe down quickly before I dropped her. As it was, my movements were so hasty she had to flap her wings to re-gain her balance. She squawked hoarsely in protest.

  “Careful!” Claire warned. “She...”

  I turned to scowl at her and she shut up. Abruptly. Too abruptly. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I lost it entirely--maybe less. She had to go. “So fine. You know what? Maybe I won’t walk. Maybe I’ll call a cab instead. Is there a particular reason you’d want to hang around and wait while I do that?”

  Claire gasped. Any other time the hurt in her eyes would have cut me to the core. Right now, I felt only a moderate increase in the regret that had already nearly crippled me. I sighed wearily. “You know, you asked me once if I’d regret it if I turned down your offer to sleep with you. I didn’t have an answer then, but I do now. I think my biggest regret is that I didn’t turn you down that night. Maybe, if I’d handled things better from the start, if we’d gone about this a little differently, maybe things wouldn’t be in such a mess right now.” Maybe. Not that we’d ever know for sure.

  Without another word, Claire crossed to the back door. She pushed it open and then paused. Tears had filled her eyes when she turned to face me once more. “I just want you to know... I think I could have loved you.”

  I forced myself to sit down. Not as easy as you might think, since what I really wanted to do was pick the chair up and hurl it across the room. She thought she could have loved me? She couldn’t even be positive about a maybe? Perfect. I shook my head. “Yeah, I think I could have loved you too.” Then I closed my eyes, so I wouldn’t have to see her leave.

  Maybe I should have gone after her. Maybe I should have apologized or tried to explain. Part of me wanted to, but I didn’t. I didn’t have the strength for another confrontation right now and I figured we’d already inflicted enough damage on each other for one day.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Claire

  I didn’t go into work at all on Tuesday. I went to the beach instead. I ate breakfast on the pier, took a long walk in the sand, stared at the waves and the gulls and thought about the course my life had taken in the past few years.

  I’d been putting on a hell of a performance, if I did say so myself. To the outside observer, I sure looked like someone who had her act together. And, in one sense, I guess I did. I was proud of the business I’d started. Proud of the new direction I’d taken. But my successes were mostly on the surface. Underneath, I was still a mess.

  I could have loved you...

  But I hadn’t wanted that, had I? After my last marriage ended, I’d crept away to lick my wounds like a whipped pup. Lonely, afraid I’d always be alone, but not willing to risk the pain another heartbreak would cause, I’d never even noticed how wounded, how guarded, how distant I’d let myself become. When I’d picked Mike up that night at the gallery, it was at least partly because I thought he’d be safe. I’d thought an affair with him would be simple, uncomplicated, undemanding. I never thought I’d fall in love. And I certainly never imagined I’d want to. It had taken me a little too long to realize I’d been wrong on both counts.

  If nothing else, this morning had been a wake-up call, a cosmic billboard with light-up letters three stories high that spelled out the message, is this really how you want to end up? Did I really want to continue being so fearful? Keeping everyone around me at arm’s length, afraid to get close, afraid to be touched, to be seen, to be loved?

  I could have loved you...

  How badly had I screwed this up? That was the real question, and one to which I didn’t know the answer. I’d taken a hit this morning--no question. We’d both said things that we couldn’t take back. But had the blow been fatal? It was my own fault if it was.

  I’d been letting my fears get the best of me these past few weeks. I could have had something good with Mike; instead, I’d pushed and pushed and pushed him away until he’d finally pushed back. How could I blame him for that? This morning, he’d pushed me right out the door and maybe out of his life as well.

  At least I’d learned something from the experience. I suppose that’s what counts, right? When I got back to town, the first thing I did was to go and see a realtor. By Wednesday afternoon, I’d made an offer on a sweet little bungalow just off Mulholland, small but quaint, with a garden full of flowers and a view of The Valley. I was through running. I was done hiding. It felt good to take control of my life again, to commit to something, to make a stand. It was time. Some might have said it was way past time but I guess there are some lessons that just take a really long while to learn.

  I spent most of Thursday holed up in my office shopping for furniture online. I was even considering adopting a pet. A Maltese perhaps, or a Bichon Frise. Not that I’d ever thought of myself as being all that much of a dog person but warm brown eyes and unconditional love were at the top of my wish list, at present, and a dog seemed the surest way to get them.

  Anyone who saw me would have thought I was coping, and I was. Sort of. But I was hurting too. I missed Mike. It had only been two days, but it felt so much longer. Probably because I had no real idea when I’d see him again.

  I could have loved you...

  Unfortunately, I’d only been half-right when I’d told Mike that. There was really no ‘could have’ about it. Not on my end. Maybe not on his end either? I could only hope that was the case. And, like Scarlett O’Hara had done after Rhett walked out on her, I promised myself that I’d think of a way to get him back... if not tomorrow then sometime in the not-too-distant future.

  How hard could it be? The man had apparently spent years collecting copies of every movie I’d ever made. And while that scared the shit out of me on one level, on another level, wasn’t the hope of inspiring that kind of adulation what drove people to perform in the first place?

  I was at my computer Thursday afternoon, looking at pictures of a charming French provincial canopy bed that I thought would go well with the darling Louis Seize chaise I’d already picked out, when the door to my office swung open. I glanced up, breath catching in surprise. “Mike.” I felt my heart immediately pick up speed as he breezed in with a small smile and a nod in my direction.

  “Hello, Claire.”

  “Wh--what are you doing here?” My voice, dull with surprise, sounded horribly ungracious, even to my own ears.

  There was the slightest check in his stride. “What do you mean? It’s Thursday, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “I know. It’s just... I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” I’d expected him to send someone else--with an excuse, perhaps, about how he’d had to take time off to deal with his house. Or maybe I’d get a phone call from his secretary, asking me to messenger my records to the office.

  “You weren’t?” Setting his briefcase down carefully on top of his desk, Mike turned and faced me. “How come? Same as always. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

  Same as always. Right. My words to him on Saturday. Was he using them now to mock me? Unable to meet his eyes, I studied the surface of my desk. “I know, but...”

  “Are you saying you’ve changed your mind?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, grateful to him for making it easy. “Yes, actually, I have.”

  “I see.” There was a heavy pause and then, “Would you like me to leave?”

  “Would I--? What?�
�� My gaze flew to his face. He looked grim. “No! What are you talking about?” Knees shaking, I got to my feet. Why, I don’t know. What did I think I was going to do? Throw myself in front of the door? Refuse to let him go? “Of course I don’t want you to leave, Mike. Why would you say that?”

  And then it was his gaze sliding away from my face. I watched the muscles in his jaw bunch.

  “Mike?”

  He shrugged. “I just thought maybe you were a little uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable?” I frowned. “With... you? Why would I...”

  “With my film collection, Claire.”

  “Oh.” As his warm, brown eyes met mine once more, I felt my cheeks flood with heat.

  “And, before you ask again, yes. I’ve watched some of them quite a few times.”

  “I figured you must have,” I said, smiling tightly, inviting him to smile along with me. He didn’t of course. I don’t know why I thought he would. “I was surprised, Mike, that’s all. It wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  He nodded. “Well, that certainly seems to be the theme for the week, doesn’t it? You weren’t expecting that, you weren’t expecting me today...”

  “I wasn’t expecting you at all.”

  “So what was it you changed your mind about?” he asked, adding, when I frowned in confusion. “Less than two minutes ago. I asked you if you’d changed your mind and you...”

  “Oh.” I shook my head. It’s so hard, sometimes, to find the right words to say. Life really ought to come with a script. “Everything? What I thought I wanted. From you. From this.” I shrugged. “You were right. Being ‘friends with benefits’ really doesn’t work for us, does it?”

  He was silent for so long I felt my conviction falter. Maybe he’d changed his mind too. Maybe that’s all he wanted now. Or maybe he didn’t even want that anymore. Finally, “So what are you saying, Claire? Do you want more from me now, or less?”