This is the life. Spending time on the French Riviera, enjoying quality time with my boyfriend, laughing it up with my friends, and having my hotel room paid for by the studio. Earlier this afternoon, I got to see a ten-minute piece of 'Fellowship', and I just . . . well, I couldn't quite believe it. We all know what a genius Pete is, but this exceeded all of my expectations. I can barely wait until December when I see the entire finished product.
Then, on top of all of that, journalists were asking *me* questions. Me! The unknown punk kid from Canterbury who managed to become an elven prince is apparently worth press coverage. My agent says I'm 'the next big thing', which I doubt and isn't really what I care about anyway. But I've been told by enough of my castmates how the game is played, so I answered their questions with a smile. I know that Viggo hates this kind of thing; talking about his work, whether it's acting, art, or poetry, feels to him like being operated on without anesthesia. So I'm not surprised he headed back to the hotel early, telling me to just enjoy myself.
After a few hours of hanging around, I get restless and more than a little horny. Making my apologies to the hobbits and ignoring their snickers and suggestive parting comments, I make my way back to the hotel, grinning like an idiot. Last night's promise that I'd let Viggo do whatever he wants is only heightening my anticipation. How lucky am I that my boyfriend is a Sex God? He really is -- it's just not natural. When Lij and Billy were bitching about how loud I was being, I was tempted to say, "*you* try being quiet with Viggo fucking you into oblivion." But people were eating, so I held my tongue.
I slide the key card into the door of our room and push it open. Viggo is sitting cross-legged on the bed and scribbling something in his journal. He doesn't look up as I come in, and I have to smile, knowing how engrossed he gets when he's in 'poet mode' (as I've lovingly dubbed it). It can be so much fun to pry him away from his inner world by offering sex. I remove my jacket and take the shirt off, stepping closer to the bed. My hands are about to undo the buckle on my belt when he speaks.
"What the hell were you thinking?" His voice is cold and accusatory like I've never heard it.
"Vig? What are you talking about?" I sit down on the bed next to him and take one of his hands in mine. "What's the matter?" When he looks up at me, his eyes reflecting a mix of anger and hurt, I frown and mentally go over what on earth I could have done to make him feel this way. "Viggo, please tell me what's going on. What did I do?"
"What did you do?" He's laughing as he says it, which makes me even more worried. "All you did was kiss me in front of the fucking paparazzi. That's all you did." He pulls away and climbs off the bed, letting the journal fall carelessly to the floor.
"The kiss? You're upset about the human scum kiss?" I ask disbelievingly. "For God's sake, Vig, you looked like you were being tortured, so I thought I'd lighten the mood! And you gave me permission to call you human scum, remember?"
"I did *not* give you permission to kiss me almost on my mouth! So tell me, Orlando, what the hell were you thinking?"
"It was a bloody joke!" I exclaim. "Shit, where's your sense of humor, Vig?"
"Do you know how many people are going to see that kiss?"
"No one's gonna see that kiss."
"Wake up, Orlando. One the movie hits and propels us all to the spotlight, that footage will be seen by tons of people. And they'll all wonder what's going on between the two of us."
"Right, and we can't tell them the truth because you're a fucking coward," I say angrily. "Fuck this, Vig -- I am sick and tired of hiding who I am just because *you're* not ready!"
"I'm a coward? Why, because I want to protect you?"
"I don't need protecting! I'm not a little kid! And don't bring Henry into this, because we both know he's mature and well-adjusted enough to deal with this."
"People will *hate* us, Orlando. They'll write hate mail and maybe send death threats, they'll boycott our movies--"
"So fuck them all!" I yell. "Why should we give a shit about bigots? Our friends are behind us, our families are behind us, and we love each other! What could possibly matter more than that?"
"Look, I'm just not ready to turn my life upside down like that!"
"Not even for me?" I ask, tears pricking at my eyes. "You wouldn't do the one thing that I want more than anything? The poems and pictures are amazing, but what I really want from you is the freedom to run down the street screaming at the top of my lungs that I love Viggo Mortensen. And you won't give me that freedom."
"Orli, I've kept this part of who I am a secret from most people for more than twenty years. I'm sorry that when I discovered my sexuality it was the late seventies and people weren't quite as accepting as they are now. It's not easy for me to suddenly say, 'yeah, I've been lying for two decades, and I'm bi.'"
"And keeping it a secret for even longer will help? What do I do while you're hiding all of this -- just be happy that my boyfriend only tells me he loves me when the door is shut and the curtains are drawn?"
"I can understand how you feel, Orli--"
"No, you can't!"
"Don't you think it's fucking killing me too that I can't be open with you in public?"
"If it's killing you, why don't you do something about it? What the hell are you waiting for?"
"I'm not ready," he says again. "I can't put a clock on when I'm going to be ready to do this, but it's not now."
"So I remain your dirty little secret for just a while longer."
"We're back to that, are we? How many times do I have to tell you that if you were a dirty little secret, I wouldn't tell *anybody* about you."
"Okay, so rationalize this in your head -- you tell all the people who really matter to us that we're together and want to spend the rest of our lives with each other, but the general public, who probably won't pay us that much mind anyway, can't know, which means that I have to suffer while you try to get over your irrational fears?"
"*Irrational* fears?"
"Yes! I mean, look at Ian -- he's one of the most respected actors in the world, and he's completely out."
"Right, love, but Ian was already very well-respected when he came out. You're just starting your career, and do you know how difficult it will be for you if you're just known as 'the gay elf'? Not to mention that Ian took a lot of shit for being gay when he was knighted."
"I don't give a fuck about what it does to my career; I'd rather be open and happy with you than be a big star in a bloody movie, and I know that goes for you, too."
"What about this movie? You don't think it'll hurt the film's popularity if a third of the Fellowship is gay or bi?"
"And what the fuck does that matter? It's not exactly as if Pete cares--"
"Right, but what about the general public?"
"Stop making excuses by thinking about the 'general public', for fuck's sake! You care more about them than about me!"
"Don't try to make this like I'm intentionally trying to hurt you. I wouldn't do that. I'm not going to stoop to your level."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?! When have I ever intentionally hurt you?" Oh, wait . . . I remember. Shit.
Viggo laughs mirthlessly. "Well, does this sound familiar? 'You don't love me, and I don't love you.'"
"For Christ's sake, Vig, we left all that shit behind in New Zealand! That fight was five months ago and I apologized, and you were wonderful enough to forgive me."
"Well maybe I shouldn't have."
He didn't just say that. Okay, I can't let him know that hurt me -- I have to get him right back. "Fine, be that way. I wouldn't have apologized anyway if I knew it would just turn out like this. What a waste of five months."
"Oh, just take it a step further, why don't you? Why don't you just say the whole fucking thing was a waste? That's what was on the tip of your tongue anyway."
"Now you're a bloody mind-reader?"
"I know you well enough."
"Fine, so I'll just say it to make you happy. The whole fucking thing was a waste. Falling in love with you was a mistake, and the entire eighteen months were total bullshit. Does that make you happy?" I can't believe this is happening to us.
"Yes, it makes me very happy, Orlando," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It makes me thrilled to know that this was all for nothing. That every time I told you I love you--"
"With the curtains drawn and the doors closed," I repeat. "You might as well just have kept silent. I know you love me, but you don't love me enough. I'd do anything for you, and you won't do the one thing that I need you to. I feel like I don't exist sometimes because you relegate me to the role of the good friend when we're in public. And it's fucking humiliating. And I put up with it because I love you, but I just can't live a lie anymore."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying fuck you. I'm saying that this is over until you come to your bloody senses."
Viggo's eyes widen and he stares at me with pained disbelief. "You can't mean that."
"Oh, but I do." And I do. It's killing me, but I can't be with him if he's going to do this to me.
"But I love you and you love me!" he yells.
"Well, then find a way to forget that," I tell him angrily. "Because the fact that we love each other is irrelevant right now! It's fucking over, Viggo!"
"Fine! It's over! You just decide that for both of us, Orlando! I have no say in this, it doesn't matter what I think, you're just going to walk away!"
"I have to! This is it for us, so just accept it!"
"Then don't come crawling back. Ever."
"I won't. You can go to hell as far as I'm concerned." I turn and walk to the foor. Right before I step out of the room, I look at him again. "It's over," I repeat before leaving.
I'm halfway down the hallway, not knowing where I'm going to go now,
when I realize that I left my shirt back in the room. Fuck it.
He can keep it. I'm not going to focus on anything I left back in
that room, because I refuse to turn around. I'm not going back.
