METHOD

by Kate Stewart

  “Lucas, I—”

  “It’s okay,” he says softly, shaking his head in disappointment before he averts his gaze.

  Paul opens the door, and I take his hand, exiting the limo.

  I’m at my door when the first of the tears fall and I press my head against it. “Fuck.” I don’t want to be without him, no matter how crazy his lifestyle is, no matter how scared I am. He’s just confessed his love and offered me a place with him. I’d always claimed safe was boring, and the first time I’m faced with something more, an unconventional way of living, especially with the man I’m madly in love with, I shy away. I let fear overrule my own convictions. I want him, and he wants me. And right then it seems so simple. I turn to try and catch sight of the limo and see Lucas standing at the edge of my porch watching me intently.

  Elated, I take a step forward. “That was ballsy.”

  “I told him to circle around and come back.” He slowly approaches before wiping the tears from my face with gentle thumbs. “At least now I know.”

  I sniff. “Know what?”

  “That you really do love me too.”

  “I told you that.”

  “Actions speak louder, right? I’m not wrong about you.”

  “It’s just a lot to absorb.”

  Cupping my face, he presses a gentle kiss to my lips and traces my jaw with his thumbs. “Do you know why I call you Dame?”

  “It’s an old generalized term for a woman in show biz, kind of a Humphrey Bogart type term, right, like kid or broad?”

  He nods, his fingers gliding along my back to the small of it where he strokes me softly. “That’s true, but it’s also the female equivalent of a knight.” He lifts one side of his mouth. “You told me yourself, you’re no princess.” He presses a kiss to my temple.

  “I’m not.”

  “No, you aren’t, although you are very much a pain in the ass.” I playfully slap his chest. “But you’re tough and pure of heart, you say what you mean, and it’s the sexiest thing about you,” he grins as he palms my ass, “well, one of the sexiest.”

  “So, you think I’m a knight, huh?”

  “You’re my knight. You saved me the minute you walked up to me in that black dress looking more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.

  I’ve never relied on anyone, Mila. Not for anything, not ever, because this life hasn’t given me much to count on. I can appreciate what a gift you are. I think you’re a reward for my patience. I’ve never had anyone there for me, not like this. I feel a sort of peace I’ve never had before.” Tears trail down my cheeks. “You changed my luck, Dame. And for the first time in my life, I feel like if I ever need rescuing, I’ll have somebody there to help save me.”

  Any brick or mortar I have left surrounding my heart disintegrates with his confession. He gives me all his trust, and I take it, and in return, I give him mine. Because he is worth it. “I will, Lucas. If you ever need saving, I’ll be there. I promise.”

  He presses his forehead to mine. “I’m counting on it.”

  “The less someone knows about me, the better, because my intention is to play a variety of characters.”—Joaquin Phoenix

  Mila

  PRESENT

  “Mila,” my mother says my name over the line like it’s a final warning rather than a greeting.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “What do I have to do to get a call back from my daughter?”

  “How about not putting me on the defensive within two seconds of speaking? That’s a start.”

  “I’m irritated.”

  “Yes, I can tell from the fire you’re breathing.”

  “Such disrespect.”

  “Sorry, Mom, I’m tired.”

  “Yes, well, I was wanting to take you to an exhibit, but it’s passed.”

  “I’m sorry, truly.” And I am. I’ve been neglecting time with my parents in the last few years to travel with Lucas, but it was always for good reason. This time I have left with them is precious, I realize that now more than ever and I’m determined not to waste it.

  “I’ve been meaning to take you up on your dinner invite, but why don’t you come over instead, I’ll cook.”

  We speak for a few minutes and make the arrangements. I can tell she’s still a little miffed when I end the call but am relieved when it’s over. I’ll have to answer to her at some point, but it doesn’t have to be today. I made sure to invite her at a time I know Lucas will be on set. With the way he’s been acting, I want to avoid a meeting of the two like the plague. Pulling into the driveway after a long day at the bistro, I close my eyes and recount the first time they came face-to-face.

  “Stop worrying, Dame, I’ve got this,” Lucas says confidently.

  “I’m fine,” I reply with a squeak, my nerves giving me away. His laughter fills the Land Rover while a warm hand squeezes my thigh with reassurance. He looks glorious in loose-fitting dark jeans, a T-shirt, and a blazer. His hair is brushed back in thick waves making him look the part of a posh sophisticate. We’ve been dating for seven months, and it’s been utter bliss. At the moment we’re on our way toward another milestone, meet the parents, well my parents. He’s filmed another movie since we began dating, but the role was a minor, no stress part with an all-star cast. Lucas had only been on set for three weeks before he got home and we’d more than made up for lost time. We’d gone to a few more outings as a couple and so far, so good. I’ve been diligent about not paying attention to the tabloids or reading online comments from his fans about the status of his new relationship. Ignorance is indeed bliss as far as I’m concerned.

  Life is good. He practically lives at my house at this point. When he isn’t filming, he admitted he mostly lived in a hotel, so most of our time together is spent at my cottage. Currently, he has two of his own drawers at my house which means we are on the cusp of more commitment. Everything inside me tells me he is my forever man and our exchanged words have started to deepen to an extent. Inside, I feel a glow I’d never known was possible.

  Lucas is my best friend and remains the most spectacular of lovers. He is still guarded about some parts of his life and doesn’t want to talk much about the past, but I’ve always known eventually he will come clean to me. We are in the best place we could be, so at my mother’s insistence and with a brief window in his schedule, we agree to finally take her invite for dinner. My mother and I have been on a rare out of sorts since the party, but I refuse to let her influence my relationship. It’s her own brand of dramatic flair that has me worried about this meet.

  When we pull up to the house, I can see the surprise on Lucas’s face.

  “You lied.” Disappointment covers his features when he turns to me in front of the two-story house.

  “I didn’t lie. I told you they obtained their wealth later in life. It’s just a house. I’ve never lived in it.”

  “I’ve never asked what your father does.”

  “He was a psychiatrist and a college professor, retired now.”

  His smile is nonexistent at this point.

  “I…I didn’t think to tell you, well, because he’s retired.”

  Unease seeps from him and I place my hand on his stone jaw turning him to face me. “He is the kindest man you will ever meet, and he will love you like I do.”

  His eyes soften, but the light in them is weak.

  “Come on, Hollywood, come have some French meatloaf.”

  He nods as if my shitty pep talk worked and grips my hand as I lead him toward the house.

  Within the first thirty seconds of opening the door, I’m almost positive my mother has seared off more of his confidence with her lava gaze and ice-cold greeting. It’s clear to both of us she’s holding a grudge due to our secret relationship.

  We’re in the seventh circle of hell now in her sitting room waiting for my father to get home and completely at her mercy. It’s taking every bit of strength I have not to glare at her and poke the bear.

  Lucas studies old pictures of m
e situated over the mantle and on the side tables as my mother brags about my past accomplishments like I’m a prize pig.

  “She was an amazing pianist. I don’t know why she quit.”

  “It got boring,” I say simply as the sides of Lucas’s mouth lift up. “Just like horse riding and everything else you wanted me to love.”

  “Thank God for that,” Lucas adds. “No horse riding.”

  We share a laugh, and my mother lifts a brow.

  “What’s wrong with horse riding, Mr. Walker?”

  “Lucas,” he corrects for the second time. “I’m just not a fan of animals. Well, actually I think it’s the other way around.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Just, well, the first time I pet a dog it bit me, I have the scar to prove it. And then I went to the zoo with my class when I was ten, and a monkey threw…waste at me.”

  She shrugs. “That’s common.”

  “I thought so too until it kept happening. The first time I swam in the ocean, I got welcomed by a school of jellyfish.”

  “Ouch,” I say. “You never told me that. Those little faded scars on your back?”

  He nods.

  “Well, you can’t know everything about the man,” my mother pipes in, “you’ve only been sleeping with him for ten minutes.”

  “Mom,” I scold, before narrowing my eyes. She shrugs sitting as pretty as she pleases with her teacup in hand.

  I can’t resist. I poke the bear. “Actually, mother dearest, ten minutes isn’t accurate. Lucas is far more generous,” I suck my bottom lip through my teeth, “the last round went well over an hour and a half.”

  Lucas mutters an “oh shit,’ as she chokes on a sip of tea.

  “Hello all,” my father interjects as he comes into the room, his warmth casting off her dark cloud. Relief washes over me as I hug him tightly in greeting.

  “Hey, Dad,” I turn to see Lucas standing, and don’t miss my mother’s eyes rolling down his form. I decide then it’s going to be a dine and dash. I can’t subject him to this. Once we’re seated at the table, I swear I hear the bell ring, and it isn’t the dinner bell.

  “So, where are you from, Mr. Walker?”

  “Maïwenn, please call me Lucas and I was raised in West Virginia.”

  I lean in, letting her have this round even though I know it’s wrong.

  “And your parents?”

  “They’re still there, I think.”

  “Oh?”

  Lucas pats his mouth with the napkin. “I cut all ties when I got to California.”

  She sips her wine. “I see.”

  “Seriously, Mom? This line of questioning is a page straight from the script out of every meet the parent’s movie conversation ever had.”

  “Then he’ll be able to easily follow,” she turns and flashes Lucas a sickening smile.

  I white knuckle my fork.

  “So, Mila tells me you worked for the press?” Lucas asks, taking the reins. I lean in and whisper to him so only he can hear me. “I love you. Great battle tactic, kill, kill, kill.” The corners of his mouth lift and he grabs my hand under the table. I’m pretty sure his palm is sweating.

  “Yes, I worked with the press. But I got out when I realized the type of circus I was supporting.”

  My father clears his throat with a sharply whispered, “Maïwenn,” before he picks more pistachios from his loaf.

  “Are you in the union?” my mother asks as casually as a fire alarm.

  “Yes,” Lucas grins proudly. “I got my card when I was nineteen.”

  “What job got you that paycheck?”

  “Mom, money talk is rude. You taught me that.”

  “It’s interesting, Mila, and a different line of questioning. That should please you.”

  “A commercial,” Lucas referees easily passing me the salad bowl with a wink.

  “Oh, would I have seen it?”

  “It was an awareness commercial.”

  “Oh, for what?”

  “Mom, your food is getting cold.”

  “Herpes,” Lucas says, clearing his throat and I can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes me.

  “I see,” my mother says dryly.

  “Cut it out, Mom, we haven’t taken five bites.”

  This time my father inadvertently asks the million-dollar question. “So, Lucas, where did you go to school?”

  Lucas gives him a scene-stealing grin. “Ever heard of Hard Knocks?”

  My dad laughs, and my mother scowls.

  It’s then I find some small ray of hope.

  “Come on, Mom, loosen that bun, you’re looking a little stressed.”

  I’m trying to make light of the situation, but I can still feel the tension brewing.

  “Well, you’ve done well for yourself, considering,” she says, eyeing him like he’s a disease.

  I drop my fork.

  “Considering,” I grit out, “Considering what? He’s made more on his last movie than you have your whole life.”

  My mother turns to me as if we’re behind closed doors. “Looks fade, Mila, what are you going to talk about in twenty years? This is ridiculous. You must have low self-esteem.”

  “Maïwenn!” My father says, finally showing up to the battle.

  But it’s already too late. She doesn’t stop there, she goes straight for the jugular turning to her husband as if we’re being ridiculous. “She’s highly educated in art and graduated summa cum laude with a double major, and he has a degree in herpes.” She turns back to me with shrewd eyes. “You honestly expect me to give you my blessing?”

  “I don’t give a damn about your blessing, I’m twenty-seven years old!”

  I’m partially lying. Of course, I want her to like him and thought her acceptance would be a little hard-earned, but this I was not prepared for. I have no idea what has gotten into her that brought her to this point, to go to these lengths, but I refuse to subject Lucas to another minute.

  Before I get a chance to say a word Lucas pushes away from the table. “I’m full. Thank you for dinner. I have an early morning.”

  “Please,” I whisper, grabbing his hand. “She’ll apologize. She will.” I glare at my mother. “Why, why, why would you do this?”

  “Because this man is not your match, Mila, and he knows it.” Their eyes meet in a silent standoff over the table. As the seconds pass, I can see a wordless understanding relay between them. My mother speaks up never taking her eyes off his. “He’ll be the one marrying up, Mila, not you and he knows it. He’s got you fooled now, but later it will be impossible.”

  I stand, throwing my napkin down as the gauntlet. “I’ll never forgive you. Lucas, let’s go.”

  My parents are arguing before we close the door. Heat radiates off him as we make our way toward his SUV. I’m mortified. “I’m so sorry,” I say as tears fall down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. Please,” I cry, and he looks over at me, shaking his head.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it, I can take it. I’ve had years to learn how to deal with rejection.”

  His words gut me as we round his truck. “Please don’t take her words for truth. She just doesn’t know you.”

  We both slam our doors, and he wastes no time turning the ignition and speeding off. A few quiet minutes pass and I apologize again.

  “She’s really not as bad as that, Lucas. I don’t know what in the hell she was thinking.”

  “It’s fine,” he says softly, his eyes losing focus, the drive becoming an afterthought. He’s checking out on me, and I won’t allow it.

  “Please, don’t let it get to you. She’s an awful bitch. I had no idea she would go for your jugular like that.”

  “She’s right.”

  “What?” Turning in my seat, I see his jaw has set again, and it terrifies me.

  “She’s right. Mila, I don’t know much about anything.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re brilliant. You were teaching me about String Theory just this morning.”


  “Yeah, because I researched it for a movie.”

  “Yeah, and last week it was the history of the NRA and the Irish Mob.”

  “All for movies,” he repeats as if I’m not getting it.

  “So,” I say in both reply and question. “What does that matter?”

  “I read on a tenth-grade level. I’m not…I’m not a lot of things. She’s right.”

  “Lucas, you don’t really think that.”

  He speeds up. My parents are only a forty-minute drive from my house, but it feels like a small and silent eternity when we finally pull up in front of my cottage. Lucas sits idle while I study his face. “Come in,” I say, opening my door, but I know it’s in vain. Inside my chest, just around the lodged bullet delivered by my own mother, tiny pieces of me are starting to fracture in a web-like pattern around it. He’s got his hand on the top of the wheel, his eyes bleary when he speaks.

  “You know, I spent the night after our first date looking up what your degree meant. I had no fucking clue.”

  “Most people don’t.”

  “But some do.” He glances at me. “Isn’t that the type for you?”

  “Come on, Lucas, she spoke out of her ass. She’s a horrible woman, and I’ll never talk to her again after this.”

  He shakes his head. “Not true, you two talk often.”

  “I love you,” I insist. “Right now, I don’t love her.” But he’s not hearing me.

  A sad smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “I stayed up until four in the morning watching The Graduate, so I would know about it the next time you brought it up, but you never did.”

  My heart sinks as he turns to me with a resignation that starts to tear me apart. Another crack, and then another, the web expanding across the whole of me threatening to shatter like glass.

  More confession spills from his lips as I sit stunned. “That night at the pyramids, when I got upset, it wasn’t because I was tired.” He swallows audibly. “It was because I’d been trying to impress you and instead, you fucking schooled me.”

  “It’s just stuff I learned in geography and other stuff I picked up.”

  “Your mother is right, you’d be marrying down. And I do know it, I’ve always known it.”