There are only a few times in my life where I've ever been truly terrified. Once was when I was six and had a recurring nightmare about an animated car that wanted to kill me. Then there was the time I took Henry to the zoo and he darted away from me and got lost in the crowd. Last year when I nearly drowned was another terrifying moment. Now I have a new experience to add to that list.
Any minute now, Orli should arrive at the studio for reshoots, and the feeling I'm experiencing right now can only be described as terror. It might sound strange to be terrified of seeing an ex-lover, but this is the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with until we behaved idiotically and ruined the whole thing. And now I'm about to see him for the first time in three months, so I think terror is the right emotion for this occasion.
A few days ago I was sorting through my stuff as I was packing for this trip. While rummaging through the drawer with my winter clothes, my hand hit a few books: the relationship journals, which had been banished to the drawer in an attempt to forget about anything Orli-related. Out of perverse curiosity, I started reading the five journals he had completed and given to me. I sat for about twelve hours reading every page and letting myself remember all the wonderful things about him that I had tried to purge from my memory.
By the time I boarded the plane, I had decided that I couldn't be without him anymore. All summer I had tried to fill the void he left behind by painting, writing, taking photographs, and spending time with Henry, but I was undeniably miserable. I couldn't live like this anymore, pretending it didn't hurt and pretending I didn't still love him. As I flew over the Pacific, I was furiously scribbling down what I wanted to say -- that I made a mistake. That I'm ready to face my fears. That I forgive his mistakes and can only pray he'll forgive mine.
My eyes scan the room where we've all gathered to meet with Pete, Fran, and Philippa, and there's still no sign of Orli. Pete is busy talking to Lij and Ian, Billy is describing the horrors of his flight to Philippa, and Bean and Dom are having yet *another* conversation about football. I'm sitting by myself with a tattered script, trying like hell not to seem nervous.
All of a sudden I turn my head and there he is, grabbing John from behind and starting a conversation. He's so beautiful and *alive*, brimming with the warmth and energy that made me fall in love with him. As he's talking with John, his eyes wander and meet mine for a second; my breath catches, but I can't tell if he's similarly affected.
"Okay," Pete's voice calls, breakthing through the chatter. "Now that everyone's here, let's get this day started."
We quickly run through what needs to be done today, and everything I'm scheduled to do is going to be with Orli. When the meeting breaks, I gather up my courage and walk over to him, putting a gentle hand on his back to get his attention.
"Orlando," I say softly.
He turns and gives me a small smile. "Hi."
"Hi." I run a nervous hand through my hair. "Um, I was hoping maybe we could talk."
"Sure." My heart leaps in my chest. "Maybe we should wait until after we finish all the shots, though."
"Yeah, you're right. So . . ."
"Well, after we're done with makeup we can just use the trailer to talk," he suggests.
"Sounds good."
"Then it's a plan." Another small smile graces his face. "It's good to see you, Viggo."
Breathe. You can do it. "It's good to see you, too."
*****
Once the last shots are done and all the actors have returned to normal clothes, I hang around the deserted makeup trailer and attempt to remain composed as I play with a wig. When Orli comes in, he still seems calm and confident; I can only hope I appear to be the same way. At least I manage to smile at him as he closes the door behind him. "Hey, you made it," I say.
"I finally got a moment where hobbits didn't feel the need to torture me."
"Good. Well . . . I guess we should talk."
"Yeah."
"Listen, I should have called you."
"Don't worry about it," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. Okay, is that a good sign or a bad sign? "I could have called also."
"Right." There's an extremely uncomfortable silence. "So what have you been up to lately?"
"Not much," he shrugs. "I went clubbing with Dom last week, and that was pretty fun."
"Did you dance with the pervy hobbit?" I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"Actually, I ended up dancing with a cute girl." My heart plummets into my stomach. "She was American, actually."
"Really?" I'm amazed my voice is so steady. "Are you seeing her?"
For a split second Orli's confident demeanor seems to waver, but when he shrugs nonchalantly I'm sure I've just imagined it. "Nah, we just spent the night together."
Kill me now. Please God, just let the trailer floor open up and suck me in. Orli's moved on. He's over me. Of course he has every right, but I can't believe it's really over. Everything I wanted to say about how much I still love him and want to make this work again has fled my brain, and I can't say a single thing.
"So what about you?" he asks casually. "Anyone in your life?"
"Just Henry," I manage to say, regaining some modicum of composure. "And I've seen Lij and Sean a few times as well. But no one like . . . well, no one new." No one like you.
"Look Viggo, we can still be friends, right?" he asks nervously. "I mean, we started out as friends, and there's no reason--"
"We can still be friends," I tell him, not sure if I believe my own words. "After all, we're both adults."
"Right." Orli smiles with relief. "Are you coming to dinner now? We're all going to that Thai place we love."
"Yeah, I'm coming."
"Do you need a ride?"
"No, I'll catch a ride with Bean."
"Okay." Another awkward silence descends upon the trailer. "Well, um, I'll see you at the restaurant then."
"Yeah. See you then."
Orli gives me a strange little wave of goodbye and walks out of the trailer, heading for where Dom and Billy are standing. Determined not to cry, I leave the trailer a few seconds later and walk in the opposite direction.
*****
I don't want to be here. I don't want to have to look at Orli eating dinner or fiddling with his napkin. I don't want to have to hear that soft accent talk about what happened over the last few months, a period of time where I should have been by his side. I don't want to have to smile, or speak, or laugh, or breathe.
We've been here for almost two hours, and Orli and I have talked to each other across the table a few times. He asked me about Henry, about my art and my writing, and about what I did this summer. Our friends' ears seemed to automatically pick up when the two of us spoke, and I could practically feel their relief about the fact that Orli and I are indeed on speaking terms.
Speaking terms. That's not exactly the ending they wanted, and it's not what I wanted either. But what made me think that he'd just wait patiently for me to come to my senses? God, why did I waste all this time feeling sorry for myself and refusing to take responsibility for mistakes? I guess I'm due for a big fat "I told you so" from everyone, starting with Henry.
As we all finish our desserts and split the check, I catch Orli looking at me intently. He smiles a little but looks nervous. "Can we talk?" he mouths silently. I nod and swallow hard. What does he want now? Just being around him is difficult enough, but having a one-on-one conversation now that it's all over will be sheer torture. Not that I could ever turn him down, though.
I slip away to the men's room and Orli follows me. The others have probably just decided to let us have our space, and I feel eternally grateful that our friends have put their nosy personalities on hold for a few minutes. The stalls are empty in the restroom, and Orli comes in right behind me, looking as nervous as I feel.
"Viggo, I just want to make sure we're okay."
"What do you mean? Okay how?" Because I really don't feel okay right now.
"Just the friendship. I know we've been through a lot, but I still want to remain friends with you. It's not as if I hate you, you know. You're a really great guy, and I hope that I'll still have you in my life."
"I know that you don't hate me, Orlando. And of course we can still be friends; I already told you that." In other words, please let me be miserable in peace.
Orli nods and chews his lip. "Okay. Well, um . . ." He sighs heavily. "I'm really sorry it turned out like this, Viggo. But maybe it's for the best."
"Maybe," I say softly. "It's just the way it goes, I guess."
"Yeah." His voice is quiet. "Listen, if you ever need anything, just call me. And that goes for Henry, too; I really love that kid, you know."
"I'll tell him you said that. He misses you." Our conversation is interrupted by someone coming into the bathroom, and we're stuck with an awkward silence. "We should probably get going," I suggest. Orli nods again, and we silently walk back out into to the restaurant.
Everyone's ready to leave, and we're all negotiating who's riding with who when Ian puts a hand on my shoulder. "Care to accompany an old queen?"
"You're not old," I chuckle. "And I'd love to accompany you."
*****
"Go ahead, ask me," I say as Ian drives his rental car through the streets of Wellington. "I know you want to."
He gives me a sympathetic smile. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to, Viggo. But I promise whatever you say won't be repeated to anyone else." When I stay silent for a minute, he chuckles. "Okay, brood. It won't make you feel any better."
"Do you *promise* not to tell anyone?"
"Viggo, you know I wouldn't betray your confidence." He's looking at me with a serious gaze and I know I can trust him. Ian is truly a wonderful friend. "Now what happened?"
"It's over," I say in a shaky voice. For the first time all day, I allow the tears to fall. "I can't believe it."
"Hasn't it been over for a few months?" Ian asks gently.
"Yes, but . . . I wanted to get back together with him." I'm crying hard now. "A few days ago I realized how stupid I've been, and I was hoping he would forgive me. I was ready to forgive him, ready to do whatever it took to start again. But he's moved on and just wants to be friends with me, and there's no chance . . ." My voice fails me as I'm overwhelmed by emotion. "God, I'm sorry for crying like this."
"Don't apologize for crying, Viggo. What did he say?"
"He didn't say much, actually. Although he mentioned that last week he slept with a girl after going to a club with Dom. If I ever needed a sign that he's over me, I guess that's it."
Ian sighs. "That wasn't exactly a courteous thing for him to mention."
"It doesn't really matter," I say wearily. "I have no right to get angry at him. We're not exactly together anymore, and it's only natural that he'd want to move on. But I was all set to tell him how I felt, and after he told me that I could barely breathe."
"I didn't know you wanted to get back together with Orlando, and I really am so sorry he doesn't feel the same way." He pauses. "Can I ask what made you realize you wanted to be with him again?"
"I found one of those journals we were writing in for each other. When I started reading . . . well, I just remembered why I loved him so much. I was sure we were going to be together for the rest of our lives, and I can't believe everything got so fucked up. You all tried to tell me to call him and I didn't, and now it's too late. I'm such a fucking idiot."
"Stop beating yourself up," Ian commands in his Gandalf voice. "What happened was not just your fault."
"He really was the one for me, Ian. And I don't know what I'm going to do now."
"Nothing dramatic I hope," he says dryly, and I have to laugh a little.
"No, nothing dramatic. It's just . . . how do I look at him now? I can't exactly avoid seeing him."
"Perhaps it will get easier with time. What about when your marriage ended? How did you deal with that?"
"That wasn't very hard, actually. We just knew it was time for it to end, and we moved on."
"Maybe that's what you have to do now. Believe me when I say that I wish it didn't have to be this way, and I'm sorry for both of you, but life will go on. Every day it will get a little easier."
I don't respond to that. How can it be that simple? How
can I move on like that, knowing that I lost the most amazing man in the
world? He may still be in my life, but I can't imagine having a real
friendship with him when every time I see him will be a reminder of the
happiness we had together. Life may go on, but it will never be the
same.
