To say that my studio is a mess would be a huge understatement. There are papers strewn everywhere, brushes lying discarded on the floor, and I've even managed to get paint on the walls. However, there's one thing in the room that's meticulously organized, and that's the large box sitting in the corner. It holds innumerable poems and photographs, all of them inspired by Orli.
These works will never be seen on the pages of any book, or on the walls of any gallery; they're solely for me. At first, they served to keep me company after Orli and I were separated after the end of filming, but when we broke up in May I sealed the box with duct tape and haven't re-opened it. Even in August, when I was hoping against hope that Orli would want to start things again, the box remained closed.
Today would have been our second anniversary, and I'm tearing off the duct tape to allow myself to remember how happy we were together. Am I insane? Perhaps. Masochistic? Possibly. Even though Orli's moved on, I'm still in love with him. God, I sound like the ultimate cliche -- the artist whose unrequited love is slowly driving him mad. No matter. Today, armed with my poems, my pictures, and Orli's relationship journals (salvaged from my dresser once again), I'm ready to spend a day remembering the most amazing relationship I ever had.
I sit down on the living room couch with the box at my feet. The first photograph I pull out is a black-and-white picture of Orli lying asleep in bed with his head smushed into a pillow. Shadows from the half-open blinds play across his chest and his striped boxers are barely peeking out above the line of the sheets. A smile crosses my face unbidden at the memory of that morning.
*****
FLASHBACK
"Vig?"
"Hmm?" I put the camera down on the nightstand, satisfied with the picture I just took.
"Why are you taking a picture of me at--" he looks at the clock "seven in the morning on our day off?"
"Because you looked beautiful," I say simply as I rejoin him in bed.
Sleepy brown eyes look up at me as he wraps himself around my body. "But if you took a picture of me every time I looked beautiful, you'd never have time for anything else."
"Narcissist," I laugh, even though he's right.
"So what do you want to do today?"
"Nothing. It's our day off, remember?" My hand glides over the smooth skin of his back and I'm rewarded with a sigh of happiness. When questing fingers dip beneath the waistband of his boxers and trace the cleft of his ass, Orli moans and then laughs a little. "What's so funny?"
"I thought you didn't want to do anything today."
"The only thing I want to do today is you," I tell him.
"Well, that can be arranged."
END FLASHBACK
*****
Papers rustle as I sift through the poems I've written, most of them short and a number of them dashed off on napkins, envelopes, even Pete's stationery. No flowery odes to his beauty or sonnets about how love makes everything perfect, because that's never been my style. I lean back against the cushions of the couch and look at the poem in hand, based on seeing Orli as Legolas:
it wasn't what stayed that i remembered, but instead what had faded
the transformation so complete that no part of you could break through
the heavy makeup
with eyes like ice, and a smile tight and thin you looked at me from
beyond yourself
no trace of your affection for me remained and my blood ran cold, if
only for a moment
Next to the poem is Orli's trademark scrawl with his comments on it after finding it on the kitchen counter: "Is this for me? Nice. You'll get a reward for that tonight, old man." Ah, yes. I remember that reward.
*****
FLASHBACK
"You're teasing me, not rewarding me," I complain from my position on the bed.
Orli smirks and slowly slides off his jeans, leaving him clad only in underwear. "Don't worry. You'll get your precious reward."
"Well, I hope it's sex and not just a floor show."
"This is only the opening act," he assures me as the last item of clothing is discarded. A stark-naked Orli joins me on the bed and lies down. "This is your reward. Does it meet with your satisfaction?"
"It's okay."
"Okay?!" The indignant look on his face makes me start laughing, and he looks even more affronted now. "Viggo, you cunt! I offer myself up and you start laughing? What kind of boyfriend are you?"
"I'm sorry, love," I chuckle. Orli moans as I reach down and run my thumb up the side of his cock. "Is that better?"
"Much."
"Good." I kiss him deeply while moving my hand over him in slow strokes. He whimpers as I slide my mouth down the length of his chest, taking time to kiss his tattoo, before sliding his hard flesh into my mouth.
"Oh, holy fuck!" Orli cries, bucking his hips. "Christ . . . Viggo . . ." I manage to smile around his cock as my lover loses coherency.
END FLASHBACK
*****
Until today, I don't think I realized just how many photos I have of Orli. It's a miracle he never got freaked out by the sheer number of times he heard the click of the camera as I took a picture. There are pictures from on-set and off, during every season, with every one of our friends, pictures of him posing and caught unaware, clothed and unclothed.
I shake my head in amazement as I look at all the moments I've captured on film. Orli asleep in the trailer, still in costume. Orli giving Hugo a bear hug. Orli on the beach in his wetsuit. Orli lying on our bed, wearing nothing but a saucy grin. Orli laughing at something. Orli shirtless in the kitchen, fixing a sandwich. Orli pretending to spar with Henry, both of them using cucumbers as their swords.
The next photo makes me laugh. It's Orli being silly while at Lij's house in New Zealand, sticking his tongue out at the camera. His tongue is stained bright orange from a popsicle and he still has the mohawk on top of his head. Next to him, Lij is laughing like a madman, and Billy stands in the background, grinning widely.
*****
FLASHBACK
"That's *really* mature, Orli," Lij teases as his giggles subside.
"Hey, Viggo happens to like my tongue," Orli says defensively.
"Yeah, but why do the rest of us have to suffer while you put it on display?" Billy asks.
"Fine. If you're sick of me, then Viggo and I will leave."
"We're not leaving, Orli," I tell him.
"But we could do stuff at home," he says in a sing-song voice. Stuff. I know what that means.
"Nice try, love. But I'm quite content to just hang out here."
"Okay." He shrugs and grabs another popsicle from the freezer as I exchange quizzical looks with the two hobbits. Orli never gives up that easily when he wants something. What's he up to now? "Mmm," he murmurs before sticking the popsicle in his mouth and sucking noisily on it.
"Gross!" Lij exclaims.
"You know what's great about popsicles, Vig?" Orli asks between slurps. "The shape. I love sucking on things that are this shape."
"You're not exactly scoring points for subtlety," I say, trying to ignore the fact that my jeans are starting to feel tight. For Christ's sake, he's actually fellating a popsicle.
"Why don't you and that popsicle just get a room?" Billy teases.
"Instead of answering, Orli runs his tongue up and down the popsicle, prompting Lij to cry, "Nobody needs to see that!" Orli gives Lij a smile, and I bite my lip at the sight of his mouth, all shiny and red from the melting popsicle.
"You know," Orli says with a grin, "the wrapper said that this popsicle is cherry-flavored, but it doesn't taste at all like Elijah."
"I'm not a cherry!" Lij hollers as Billy and I dissolve into laughter. "I've had sex, you jerk!"
"Not the kind that I've had," Orli boasts. He winks at me before giving the popsicle another slurp, and I've finally had enough of his antics.
"Come on, Orlando. Time to go home."
"Good," he says while leering at me. "No need for popsicles anymore. I've got the real thing now."
END FLASHBACK
*****
Halfway through reading one of Orli's relationship journals, the phone rings. Shit. I put the book down and go into the kitchen, but by the time I pick up, there's nothing but a dial tone. "Asshole," I mutter, walking back into the living room where I'm now surrounded by Orli memorabilia. Note to self: clean all of this up before Exene drives Henry over tonight. I don't want either of them to see new evidence of my insanity.
Okay, time to get back to the journal. God, these were such a great idea. Even though it's over between us, I can still look at these and remember what we had together. Now, where was I again? Ah, here we go.
30.4.01
I just saw you three days ago and I miss you terribly already. It was so wonderful to be able to see your house in Los Angeles, and even more wonderful to see *you*. And I had such a great time with Henry -- remind him that we'll do Disneyland the next time I'm there. I'm glad I got to meet Exene too, and I see why you two are still friends; she's a pretty cool person.
And did I mention that the sex was unbelievable? I'm still convinced that you have a stash of Viagra I don't know about, even though I took the liberty of searching your medicine cabinet. Just kidding. But that one time . . . well, you know. Wednesday morning. Wow. Enough said.
*****
FLASHBACK
"When I asked if you were hungry," Orli gasps as I push my tongue inside of him, "this wasn't what I meant -- oh God!" He whimpers and writhes on the sheets while I tongue-fuck him, one of his hands running gently through my hair. "No, Viggo stop."
"What's the matter, love?" I ask, concerned.
"Nothing . . . I just want you inside of me *now*."
I stretch him with my fingers before sinking my cock into his body, burying myself in tight heat. His fingernails cut into my biceps as I move slowly, drawing a gasp from his mouth with each thrust. It's a struggle for him to keep his eyes open, but I can't stop staring at the man lying beneath me.
"Beautiful," I murmur as I lean down to kiss him. He responds fervently, his tongue wrestling with mine as the thrusts speed up. We break the kiss so we can breathe, and his eyes are wide open now, love and happiness on display in the brown depths. "So beautiful," I say again.
"Vig," he breathes, pushing his body up to meet my thrusts as one of his hands works on his erection. "I'm close."
Incapable of speech, I just nod and keep driving into him, loving the soft moans he lets escape from his mouth. Orli comes a few moments later, and the feeling of his muscles clenching around me combined with the incredible look on his face causes me to reach my own climax. I come inside of him with a cry, and his hands gently run over my back as I collapse on top of him.
"Sorry," I mumble. "I'll move."
"Don't," Orli says softly.
"We'll get sticky."
"I don't care. I just want to lie like this for a while." He kisses my forehead.
"I love you so much," I tell him. "I know I say it all the time, but I mean it. You're so amazing, Orlando."
"And you know I love you, too. Forever and ever."
END FLASHBACK
*****
"Dad?"
"Mmm?" I open my eyes and look blearily at Henry, who's standing over me with a concerned look on his face.
"Dad, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. How'd you get in?"
"I have a key," he says, rolling his eyes. "Seriously though, are you okay?"
"I'm okay, Henry."
"What is all this stuff?" my son asks, gesturing to the poems, photos, and journals strewn about the room."
"Nothing."
"Dad," he says with exasperation. "You're exhausted and you look like you're gonna cry. What's going on?"
"I was just going over some stuff from my relationship with Orli. You know, pictures of him and poems I wrote about him."
"Why were you looking at all of this?"
"Today was our anniversary."
Henry sighs. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's okay." I manage to smile at him.
"You really should call him and tell him how much you miss him. I'm sure that if the two of you just sat down and talked, you could get past whatever happened."
"That's not going to happen, Henry."
"Don't be so stubborn, Dad! You're obviously still in love with him!"
"I *am* still in love with him--"
"I knew it!" he crows triumphantly.
"But he doesn't feel the same way," I finish.
"How do you know?"
"Because we talked in New Zealand. He's moved on, Henry; he only wants us to be friends." When he frowns, I shake my head at him. "Don't get angry at Orli. I should have listened to you all those times you told me to call him." I sigh. "What time is it?"
"Almost seven."
"Why don't you go do some homework while I clean this up and get dinner ready."
"Okay." Henry walks out of the living room and I start putting all the stuff back into the box. I'm greatly relieved that none of the, um, intimate pictures of Orli were in plain view. My son may know that I have sex, but he doesn't need to see the evidence.
Once the box is safely stowed back in the studio and a new strip of duct tape is sealing it shut, I walk into the kitchen to find Henry writing in a notebook. "What are you working on?"
"History. I have to write a biography of a historical figure from the twentieth century who I admire."
"So who are you writing about?"
"Anne Frank."
"Good choice." I put some water in a pot and light the burner. "Is pasta okay for dinner?"
"It's fine." Henry pauses. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really sorry about you and Orli. I thought it was gonna work between you two."
"So did I," I sigh.
"Life really sucks sometimes, huh?"
I laugh. "Sometimes it does. But I'm okay, Henry; you don't need to worry about me."
"Alright." He doesn't quite look convinced. "Well then, can I show you what I've got so far for this paper?"
"Yeah, I'd love to see what you've written."
*****
Okay, so I lied to myself and to Henry. I'm not okay. I miss Orli so much it hurts. I really want to go to my studio and look through that box again, but I know I'll wake Henry and I don't want him worrying about me.
A month from now, Orli and I will see each other in Wellington for the premiere of 'Fellowship', and I have no idea how I'll make it through that experience. He's obviously content to just be friends with me, and I'll try to live with that. The worst thing that could happen would be for me to tell him I want him back and ruin our chances for a friendship. But every time I see him, I know I'm going to want to scream how much I still love him. So it's a no-win situation.
My son is right. Life really sucks sometimes.
