Someone Else's Fairytale (42 page)

I texted Dave as I jostled my way through the crowd. “I need to get past,” I explained to the scowling faces that turned my direction. “Let me through, please.”

Dave met me partway through the crowd and ushered me the rest of the way in. I went from the press of bodies to the open, empty street beyond – a narrow side street.
 
“You know you can call me for a car,” he reminded me.

“And you know that if you send one for me when I don't call, I don't like it,” I replied.

We walked in the cool shadow between the highrises and then got blinded by the sun again as we rounded the corner. The catering truck was right in front of us and Kyra stood outside, chatting with a woman who munched a sandwich.

Dave lifted his hand to wave goodbye and darted off in the direction of the trailers.

“So, why is she working at a coffee shop?” the woman asked.

I hesitated.

“Well, she's not going to just hang around here.”

“Why not? If her boyfriend's here?”

“That's how she is. So not interested in being a famous guy's arm candy. She's into having her own life.”

“She's weird.”

“No she's not. She's really cool. She's just not into this lifestyle.”

“But you guys live with Jason, right?”

“No... he's at the hotel. We've got an apartment.”

“She doesn't even eat here. She could if she wanted to.”

“No, she buys her own food and does her own laundry-”

“Now that's just a waste of time.”

“I think it's cool.”

“Vanderholt could pay for laundry service, easy.”

“I know, but they hang out in the laundry room. He carries her basket up and down the stairs. It's way cute.”

“She clearly doesn't know how this works.”

“No, she does. She just doesn't like it.”

I cleared my throat. Kyra looked over at me and ducked her head in embarrassment.

“He-ey!” Jason strode on over, wearing his stockbroker costume, which was a rather nice, gray suit. Dave had found him and let him know I was here. He gave me a hug. “You hungry?”

“I'm fine.” We stepped into the shade of the truck.

“What do you want?” Jason asked.

“I'm not hungry, really.”

Kyra rolled her eyes.

We sat down in some cloth chairs and I pulled my hair up off my neck. The air felt cool against my sweaty skin. Gross, I thought.

Jason leaned forward, his gaze fixed on my upper arm. My shirt sleeve had ridden up to reveal the edge of my scar. I pushed it all the way up to show him. “That one's the nastiest looking,” I said. “Had to have two surgeries.”

I dug the mail out of my purse and waved it at Kyra. “Looks like a bunch of college prospectuses,” I said.

“Because your parents are really subtle,” said Jason. “Let's see, Canada, Alaska, Outer Mongolia. I hear that's nice this time of year.”

Kyra came to sit with us and swiped the stack of envelopes. “Colorado College, UT, UCLA. You are such a liar. Oh, this one's yours.” She handed an envelope back to me. It was a small, business sized one, but it was fat.

Sure enough, it was addressed to me with a yellow forwarding sticker, and it was from Loyola. “My financial aid package,” I said. I'd meant to call them to find out about it.

Jason glanced around. “You want to open that here, or you want some privacy?”

I shrugged. “Won't change what's inside, will it?” I tore open the envelope and unfolded the first page. I read over the letter once, twice.

"Well?” said Jason.

“I got one.”

“A fellowship?”

“Yep, with stipend.” I smiled up at him.

“Nice, so you are definitely going this fall?”

“Looks like it, yeah. I gotta start looking for somewhere to live.”

“Lots of flood and hurricane damaged real estate goes cheap,” quipped the woman over by the catering truck. She was staring at me like I had beamed down from Mars.

“Thanks...” I said.

Jason frowned at her and shrugged apologetically at me. “I need AC,” he said, getting up.

He needed to shoot a scene at any minute, according to his call sheet, but I followed him anyway. He just wanted to get away from the woman, and to tell the truth, so did I.

The next day I got home to find the apartment door open a crack. Someone, Kyra I assumed, was sobbing inside. “Wait,” I heard Jason say, “this about me, or you? You sure your fights with Nate have nothing to do with this?”

I peered through the crack and saw him sitting with his arm around Kyra, who was, in fact, crying. “I just don't get it,” she said.

“Don't get what?”

“You haven't even seen her scars?”

“Okay, you know what? Any society where it's normal to say, 'Oh, gee, she has gunshot scars. Wait, what do you mean her boyfriend hasn't seen them?' is messed up, all right? Sick.”

“I thought you guys were serious.”

“We are serious. You're conflating some concepts here.”

“Not as serious as you think.”

“Now you just need to mind your own business. We should talk about Nate and whatever he said to you today that made you lock yourself in the bathroom for an hour.”

“But you've been together seven months.”

“Yes. And?”

“Don't you worry that she's freezing you out?”

“People are different, okay. You leave her and her decisions alone. They're between her and me.”

“You've changed.”

“Maybe. Not necessarily. I was never like, say...
Nate,
for example. He's a creep.”

 
“He's not a creep.”

“Yeah, he is. I'm just saying.”

“You haven't ever done
anything
with Chloe. At all?”

“Kyra. I love her, way more than Nate loves you. More than you can understand, okay? As is obvious from the stuff you've been saying.”

“That's not going to make her want to be with you.”

“Nothing will make her. This isn't about control.”

Kyra looked over towards the door. She craned her neck, peering at the crack. “Chloe?”

My face burned hot. I pushed the door open. “I just got here,” I said. “It looked personal. I didn't want to barge in.” I stepped inside and shut the door.

Kyra wiped her eyes and got up. “I'm going to my room.” She slipped out.

“She okay?” I asked.

Jason looked up at me. “Yeah, I think she's fine.”

“You okay?”

“I'm good.” He was distracted, though.

I hesitated and deposited my purse behind the couch. “Okay,” I said, “I heard what she was asking you about... you want to talk?”

“About what?”

I glanced towards Kyra's door. “Let's find some privacy.” I went back into my bedroom and Jason followed.

“Okay, so let's talk,” I said. I turned to face him.

“Am I supposed to say something?”

“Well, do you have questions for me?”

“Like what?”

“Like... are you wondering if I'm not interested in men or-”

“What? No.”

“Or why it's been seven months-”

“I'm supposed to have you on a time limit? Gee thanks, Chlo. Any other selfish, immature behavior I'm supposed to exhibit here?”

“Please don't get mad at me. Look, I know our relationship isn't normal for people our age.”

“Says who? And who cares if it isn't?”

“Jason, come on-”

“Why do you think I'd ever, in a million years, sit you down and ask you stuff like that or pressure you or-”

“We never talk about this.”

“We did talk about it.”

“Months ago, and only a little.”

“Yeah. You expect me to harass you? You think I'm like that?”

“No.” I wasn't sure how this had turned into an argument. I was trying to give him a chance to tell me his feelings, and he was raising his voice at me.

“All of this is up to you,” he said. “You want to wait, fine. You want to switch gears completely, fine. It doesn't affect how committed I am to you or much I love you or anything like that, we clear?”

“Look. You are amazing at respecting my feelings. You're ideal, and I guess I worry about that becoming one sided. I want you to know that I respect your feelings too, okay? I don't want you to hide stuff from me. It's a two way street.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how do you honestly feel about how things are going? Because most guys do have a time limit and-”

“Chloe, stop. Please. Look, I know you, okay? Your dad was a cheat and your brother tried to kill you. If you take your time trusting men, there're logical reasons there.”

“Um... what?”

He sat down on the bed and shrugged. “Well, that's my take on it. Too much psychoanalysis? I'm an actor. I try to take people apart and understand how they tick.”

I sat down next to him. The rest of the apartment was quiet. Too quiet. I nodded in the direction of the door.

Jason got up and tugged it open to reveal Kyra, who tried to look as if she was just passing by.

“Do you mind?” he said.

She bit her lip and sidled away.

He shut the door and came to sit down again. “So, okay, bad analysis of how you think?”

“Well... I never thought about it that way. I just really, really don't want to risk having a kid out of wedlock at this point in my life. Especially not with a guy from a really high profile
Albuquerque
family-”

Jason chuckled. “Projecting much?”

“Yeah, completely. I know I'm not my mother and there are ways to make it almost impossible to get pregnant and people raise kids alone all the time nowadays.” I thought about Lori and how happy she was.

“I'd never leave you alone in a situation like that. Ever.”

“Well, okay, but I've never regretted not sleeping with an ex, even when I really thought I would. Maybe for all those reasons you listed. I don't know. That why you're so patient? Because you think I'm messed up?”

“No. You know my past. My first love sued me for rape.”

“I'd never-”

“No, I know. You wouldn't try to extort money out of me. It's a fight just to get you to let me buy ice cream, but there were a lot of stops on that whole emotional journey and none of them were fun. For a while I really thought she felt I'd forced things with her. It was awful, and I don't ever want to feel that way again.”

I leaned on his shoulder.

“So if it's a choice between risking regret and abstinence,” he said, “abstinence wins. We've both been burned in our lives and had reasons to think about this stuff. We're not so different.”

“You're a hundred percent happy with our relationship? There's nothing you'd change? At all?”

“I don't think so.”

“You don't
think?”

“It's a hard question.”

“No it's not. It's not supposed to be. Look, you once said this was like a fairytale for you.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it still?”

He was silent.

I put a hand against his chest and he slipped an arm around my waist.

“I want to be your Prince Charming,” he said.

“I'm not a knight in shining armor kind of girl.”

“But... it's what I've been practicing my whole career. How many guys have more experience than me, honestly?”