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She stares at me, waiting to see if I’ll say anything else, and when I don’t, she drops her tense shoulders. “Goodbye, Kai,” she says quietly, and then turns and leaves.
I sit at our table as I watch her walk away and get back on the elevator. She never looks back.
I stare at our plates. Both remain mostly untouched. I lean back in my chair and nod at my omelette without emotion.
Well, that’s that.
It was a disaster before it even started. I’m not even sure why I tried to fight back. It’s clear we don’t want the same things. I’m not even sure I know what she’s looking for. She wouldn’t give me a chance to figure it out. But I have a strong suspicion it includes feelings, vulnerability, and commitment.
Three pieces of myself that I don’t have to give.
Maybe someday they’ll resurface, but for now, they’re buried so deep it would take a backhoe to dig them out. Sophie and I have been riding a train headed to nowhere. She was the first to jump, but now I stand on the edge too, ready to give up.
I push my plate away, place another ten dollars atop Sophie’s, and then I walk out of the hotel, away from the fantasy and back to my predictable life.
SEVEN
Sophie
–3 Months Later–
“Soph! Have you seen my keys?” Leah shouts from her kitchen across the hall. We tend to leave our doors open, traversing each other’s apartments like they’re our own.
I roll my eyes and call through the doorway. “Probably on top of the fridge where you always put them, dork!”
We rent the tiniest, cheapest studio apartments we could find in the Upper West Side. The paint is cracking, and my one small window faces directly into the brick wall of the building beside it. It isn’t glamorous, but it’s a place to live and a place to sleep.
Leah walks in and plops down on a stool by the counter, shoving her keys into her pocket. “I just don’t know about this one…I mean, I’ve only interviewed with tabloids so far. But the Westwood Post is so…local…”
I push a basket of Keurig cups in her direction. “Local’s not bad though. You’ll get your chance to gossip about the celebrities once you get some experience under your belt.”
“I don’t want to gossip about celebrities.” It’s her turn to roll her eyes. “I want to tell their stories. The real truth that’s hidden by the media.” She picks out a breakfast blend and hands it to me.
“Well, you can start by telling your neighbor’s stories.” I pop the cup into the machine.
She sighs and rests her chin on her hand, watching the coffee drip into her bright blue tumbler. She’s a talented writer, and I don’t doubt that someday she’ll land her dream job reporting on Hollywood, but for now, she has to start somewhere.
“What about you?” She peers at me with hopeful eyes. “Have you heard anything after your last audition?”
“No, not yet.” I pour an extravagant amount of creamer into her coffee, just like Leah likes it, and slide it across the counter. Ironically, this is what I do at work every day. I pour coffee after coffee, dreaming of the day when I’ll finally turn in my apron and hat for a costume and a script.
“I bet you will soon.” She caps her tumbler and stands. “The way you described it. It seems like your perfect role.”
“Good luck.” I smile as she retreats to the door. “You’ll blow them away.”
She grasps her coffee tighter. “At this point, I just want to write. I’ll take whatever I can get.”
I pull a box of cereal from the cupboard. “I have a feeling about this one.”
She waves over her shoulder as she leaves. “Well, keep the good thoughts coming. I’ll need them. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“See ya.” I pour my cereal and sit down on the sofa, pulling a script onto my lap. I’m devouring it for the third time, and I’ve been fully engrossed in each sitting. Like any really good script, I can’t put it down. But this one is even more special to me because this is the script for a Broadway show. Like, real Broadway.
Vividly, I remember my agent slapping it down between us just over a week ago, exclaiming that she’s never seen a role better fit for me. I’ve been so used to searching for auditions myself, I was shocked to see that she found one for me. I immediately took that script home, sat down at the counter, and began to read. The synopsis drew me in before I even made it to the first line of dialogue.
The amber skies, the salty breeze, the mornings hanging on to the haze of night, all hold the promise of a new beginning and the blossom of love. The war has ended. The men are returning home, and the lives of two sisters, Elaine and Daria Barlowe, are about to change. Their world is a new landscape, and the streets of New York are filled with celebration.
She knew him many years ago, but when William, a brave young Army officer, returns home to their small apartment block, memories of an unrequited childhood crush come flooding back. Strong and self-confident, yet guarding a mysterious and troubled past, he sees Elaine in a new light now. She’s grown. She’s not the child she once was. But there are hurdles to jump and lies to be told. Elaine and William's impossible love threatens to tear the Barlowe family apart, and sacrifices must be made to find their new beginning.
