I Love My Side of the Story (12 page)

Twelve Minutes Later

David chose an Irish pub, knowing my
propensity for Jameson and Guinness, probably. I’m grateful, because the
memorabilia on the walls, the aged dartboard; its surface more holes than
target, and the dusty smell of the place gives it a nice casual and comfortable
feel. I even like the cracking sound of a cue ball on the pool table breaking
through the room. It’s a slow night, only about twenty people in the place, and
I spot David sitting at the bar with a beer. He likes lagers, which I don’t
get. Also makes it more strange that he wanted to come here. This is more my
scene than his.

“Hey.” I sit down on the old stool next
to his. “Guinness.” The fifties-looking bartender with authentic Irish features
and pallor, nods and goes to pour it.

“Hey,” David says.

“Perfect timing, man.”

He shoots me a glance. “Yeah? Why?”

“Amber’s parents are coming to town and
she wants me to tell them I’m working on a play. That pays.”

“And you’re not?” he asks.

“Nah,” then, “Thanks,” I say for the
beer that landed in front of me.

“She wants it to look like you’re more
successful than you are, or something?” David asks.

I muffle my defensiveness, and tell him
as casually as I can, “I
am
successful. My commercial is paying my bills. Plus I booked another one.”

“Yeah? That’s cool, Josh.
Congratulations.” David says, impressed.

“It is. It’s very cool… thanks.”

“What’d Amber say to that?”

“I haven’t told her.” I’m looking at my
beer, because it doesn’t have an expression.

David pauses, shifts on his seat. “Uh…
It’s gotta be hard dating a girl with a higher ranking than you have, in your
same field.”

“You’re in the corporate world, you
don’t get it, so let me paint the picture. Casting directors are at the bottom
of the power pole in the industry, in terms of the people who make a project
happen. They bring in actors, yeah – but they don’t have final say, and
once the audition starts, they have almost none. It always goes down to what
the producers and director wants. And the studio. Sometimes even the writer is
above her. Did you know that casting directors are the only ones who don’t get
an award – no Oscar for CDs. It sucks. And yet, she works so hard –
wants to be involved in making films happen that matter to her. And her fears
of making her own business stronger, getting herself at her young age to where
she wants to be… it’s tough. And yeah – I feel the strain because actors
are even lower than Casting, until we make it big. And I know part of her
pressure on me has to do with impressing her damn father – who’s a real
piece of work.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t even know the half of it. He
makes her jump through hoops, and it’s never enough.”

“My dad’s like that.” He shakes his head
and takes a drink.

“They come from a different generation…
They don’t know how to talk to us,” I say, and take a swig, too.

“Yours too, then?”

I shrug; look at the TV above us. “He’s
alright. Nothing like Amber’s. He was better when I was a kid. He sure doesn’t
get me going into acting, that’s for sure. But he’s doing his best to be
supportive, so I’m lucky.”

David looks at me. “You’ve got a lot of
insight into people.”

“I study them for character work.” We
sit in silence for a minute, watch the soccer game. Finally I speak up. “It’s
been weighing me down, that I haven’t told her I booked another one. I just
don’t want to tell her.” I shake my head, run a hand through my hair. “I don’t
know. I want her to give me some credit. I’m working my ass off. I was hitting
this wall recently in class and then BAM! I went through it and I’m flying now.
I’m on the way, you know? I don’t know. Maybe I’m still pissed at her.”

“Why?”

I look down at the beer again. “Holding
a grudge?”

“For that Jake Lombardi thing?” he asks.

My eyes dart to him in surprise. He
raises his eyebrows. No words needed. He looks at his phone for the time.
Probably uncomfortable with the heart-to-heart. We guys aren’t good at these,
and I can’t seem to shut up. “Sorry, man. Just had to get it off my chest.”

 
He says, “Nah. Don’t worry about it.
Well, it’s great you got another commercial. That’s pretty impressive.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m more
stoked about the classwork, though. Now it’s only a matter of time.”

“To being famous?” David asks.

I push away the idea with my hand. “Nah.
I don’t want to be famous.”

He looks at his phone again. “No? I
would! Why not?”

I take a sip; think on it, licking the
thick liquid off my top lip. “You know what I want? I want it to be where the
industry knows who I am and will hire me for cool parts,
based on that knowledge
. But walking down the street and having
people stop me for autographs? Or write-ups in magazines about my personal
business? No fucking way. Not for me.”

“It’s a fine line.” David says.

“One I won’t mind walking.” We clink
glasses and drink.

David says, out of the blue, “Do you
think we’re meant to be monogamous?”

I frown. “I didn’t see that question
coming.”

“Yeah. Do you?” he asks.

I hold his eyes for a second and see
real seriousness there. Huh. I turn away and think on it. Take another drink.
Lick my lips again. “I don’t at all, and I do, completely.”

“What the hell does that mean?” David
asks, with a mock-laugh.

“My body says one thing and my mind,
another?” I look up at the screen in time to see my commercial airing on it.
“Hey look!”

David looks and we watch it, muted, me
smiling with my fake wife and kids on a road trip. “Wow. That’s weird seeing
you on there, and you here, at the same time.” After it’s over, he admits, “You
look good with a family.”

“Yeah?” I laugh. “I want one.”

“Not me.” He smiles and slaps me on the
shoulder. “I think my body and mind think as one. I don’t see monogamy as a
viable long-term strategy for happy living.”

My smile fades as I watch him look back to
the TV and take a sip. His phone rings and he answers it cheerily. “Hey
baby…sounds good. I’ve got maybe an hour.” He laughs. “I can make it happen in
less. Okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I put my drink down; watch him
slide the phone back into his pocket.

I grin at him, “Jess calling you home
for a quickie?”

His eyes flicker, and he grins back.
“Yeah. Sorry, man. I’ll check ya later. You hang here though. Take some time to
yourself. Sounds like you need a break.”

We fist-bump and he leaves. I look to
the bartender, who’s leaning against the backbar counter, looking at me. He
says through thick accent, “I’m an actor. Couldn’t help overhear what you
said.”

“Yeah? How’s it going?” I ask.

He shrugs, defeated. “Well, I’m still
working here. So, not as good as it’s goin’ for you.”

“Give it time,” I say, awkwardly. “Can
you do an American accent?”

In perfect Standard American, he says,
“Your girl should be kissing your feet.”

“Don’t tell her that,” I laugh. “Nicely
done. Sounds perfect.” He smiles his thanks and goes to get another round for
the guy who was playing pool. I look over to see he’s on a date – maybe a
first date, or a second, not sure – and they look new and hopeful. When
the guy catches my eye, I turn away and look to the front door where David just
left. What he confessed, isn’t sitting well with me.

I pull out my phone and call Amber. She
answers, yelling over loud music and people. “Hi honey!” She’s pissed. And she
went out. Great.

“You at a bar?” I ask, covering my free
ear so I can hear, better.

“What?” she yells.

Irritated, I say louder, “Are you at a
bar?”

“Yeah. Jess wanted to get girl-time, so
David said cool. Nico and I met her for some dancing. Having such a good time!”
Her overly sweet tone makes it sour.

“Jess is with you?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah. Say hi, Jess!”

“Hi Jess!” Jessica calls through the
phone. Old joke, but she’s funny when she says it, anyway. Only… I know
something she doesn’t – so nothing is funny right now. “Right. Okay,” I
say, realizing David called me out as an alibi. I have no idea who he’s with,
but it ain’t his girlfriend. Now meeting me at an Irish pub makes sense. Get me
happy and dumb. Mother fucker.

Amber asks, “You going to be late? I
needed some girl time, so I’m going to stay out with them.” I can hear in her
voice that she’s not having fun, either. It’s an act. But if she wants to play,
let’s play.

“Great. Have fun.”

“Love you!”

“Love you too.” I hang up and put my
phone on the bar, look at it.

“You’re going to set that thing on fire,
son,” the bartender says, his brogue thick again.

I shoot him a look to shut the fuck up.

“Yep,” he adds, with a weary headshake,
“That’s why I never settled down. Women. Bad for your health.”

I down the rest of my beer, stand up,
pull out some cash, and say, “That’s a load of shit.”

I don’t look at his reaction as I walk
out.

An Hour Later

When I walk in the door, silence echoes
back to me and I wish she were home. I shouldn’t have gone out to meet him. Now
I know something I shouldn’t, and I’m alone. I look around the place, and head
to the couch. Surfing the Internet soothes me, locking me into a world outside
myself. There is so much going on out there, it makes my problems seem small.
As I click around, asking myself if I should tell Amber about David’s cheating,
I end up on a website where an ad on the right side of the page reads:
How To Help Your Partner Hear You
. I
hover the cursor over it and stare at it for a long time. But I don’t click.
Instead I close the computer, put it on the couch and sit in the dark,
realizing I must not have turned on the lights when I came home. I look at the
clock. It’s 12:48 p.m.

At some point I fall asleep on the
couch, not aware of it until after 2:00 a.m. when I hear her key in the lock. I
dash for the bedroom as my intoxicated girlfriend fumbles at opening the front
door. I tear off my clothes, jump in bed, turn over to face the wall, and
pretend I’m asleep. I listen to her make it inside, drop her keys on the floor,
pick them up, and put them in the bowl. She tiptoes into the bedroom and I feel
her eyes on my back. Big sigh from her. When she walks into the bathroom to do
whatever she’s going to do in there – brush her teeth, plan my demise,
whatever – I pull the covers up higher. For the first time in my life, I
can’t sleep right away.

She takes forever to climb into bed, her
soft body naked and warm. She hesitates to touch me. I hold my breath for what
she’s going to do. Then I feel her hand on my side, her body snuggle up to
mine, spooning me, and her arm wrapping around my chest. Feel her breath on my
shoulder. I adjust myself, get closer, and grab her hand and hold it against
me. “I love you, Amber,” I whisper.

She gives a little gasp. Her body
relaxes and she whispers back, “I love you too.” She kisses my shoulder. I pull
her hand up and kiss it, put it back on my chest… and fall fast asleep.

A Tuesday Night
– Early Summer

The Night David Dumped Jessica

It’s a usual night of squabbling and
when we finally get past it, all I want to do is sit here at home and connect
with her again. I tell her we always hang out with our friends, let’s do
something on our own; suggest, “You want to watch a movie tonight?”

She gets excited, “Go out and watch
one?”

She looks so cute, I don’t want to let
her down, but I’m exhausted by own inability to get through to her. I’m
surprised to see her look pleased when I say I want to stay home, and when I go
in to kiss her, she blocks me because she’s had pesto. I love her breath, no
matter what it smells like. Struggling against my annoyance, I turn and
say,
 
“Okay. I’ll be in the living
room.”

“Great,” she says at my back.

What should we watch? Sitting on the
couch, I contemplate the possibilities, flipping through the channels.
Silver Linings Playbook
? She’d probably
kill me if I asked her to watch that again.
Zero
Dark Thirty
or
Argo…
yes.

Wait. Is that a knock? Who’s coming over
at this hour? When I open the door, I see Jess standing there –
tear-stained cheeks and puffy blank eyes – like someone took her soul.
Instantly I know, she’s found out. I call for Amber. Amber rushes over and
takes her into the hug my guilt wouldn’t let me give. I take Amber’s toothbrush
from her, bow out to the bedroom and leave them alone.

Inside I sit on the bed and beat myself
up. I should have told her. I should have told Amber. But I’ve seen it too many
times where the cheater’s girlfriend blames the messenger and not the
boyfriend. I decided in the end that it was between David and Jess – and
hoped it was just a phase he was going through. Or like what happened with me
and Shauna; he’d wake up and run home. But I’m still not sure if I made the
right decision. Now I’ll never know.

I stand up and go to the door, listen
through it as Nicole arrives. Their three voices mingle; my hand cupped against
the wood. Shit. This is awful. After awhile, they go quiet. I adjust my hand,
cup it differently and listen harder. Still nothing. I slowly open the door,
tentatively walk to the living room. When I round the wall to it, I see one of
the most amazing sights I’ve ever seen. Jess is asleep, covered in a blanket.
Nicole is sitting holding onto Jess’s legs, which lay across her lap. Amber, my
strong Lioness, sits in a chair, watching vigil. I lean against the wall, take
it all in. Amber’s sad eyes fall on me, silently asking if Jess can stay here.
With just a look, I tell her,
for as long
as she needs.

We all stay like this for an
immeasurable amount of time. I feel calm and still inside of my heart, the
humanity of this scene, beautiful to me.