Mr. 365 (12 page)

“So, for this last take I want to talk to you about your favorite Christmas gift ever,” Paul explains to Will.

Paul, Will, and I are in the sitting area of the living room while Aaron, Terry, and Roy get set up. With Paul’s question I see a glint of pain in Will’s eyes before he looks down.

Twenty minutes later the camera’s rolling and Paul puts his spin on the subject. “So Will, I remember my all-time favorite Christmas gift when I was a kid. It still makes me giddy just thinking about it.”

Will goes with it like a pro. “What was it, Paul?”

“A Super 8 camera and a toy clapper board so I could make my own movies. For weeks after, every time my family heard the clapper snap shut and me yell
action
they ran and hid.”

“That’s great.”

“So what was your favorite gift ever? When did Santa thrill you the most?”

Will’s smile turns wistful. “Actually it wasn’t from Santa. It was a bike I had wanted for almost two years: a bright red racing bike. With our situation, it was out of reach, but one Christmas I got it from my parents. I was beside myself.”

“Nice. Nothing like making a kid’s dream come true,” says Paul, nodding.

Paul turns to the camera and points. “So, all you viewers at home, what was your favorite Christmas present? Log onto our website and let us know!”

When Aaron gestures and Lindsey yells
cut
, Paul jumps off the couch. “Okay, that wraps it up for today. Good job, Will. We got some good stuff.”

“Thanks.”

Lindsey steps into the circle. “Hey, powwow. There’s been a development.”

“What’s up?” I ask.

“We just got a confirmation. That big Pacific Northwest storm is heading this way. We knew there was a chance of rain this week, but now it’s confirmed. We’re going to have to reschedule Friday’s exterior shoot.”

“Crap, I really wanted to wrap this up this week,” says Paul.

“I’m sure we all did,” I say.

Will rubs his chin. “I should probably reschedule the yard setup on Thursday.”

“Definitely. They say the storm will hit late morning Thursday, and it’s supposed to be a big one. I’ve looked at the schedules. We could probably make it work a week from this Thursday. Would that work for you, Will?”

“I think so. We’re still on hiatus on my show,” Will replies.

“Good,” says Lindsey. “So tomorrow will be the last of the interiors. We’ll be covering the kitchen, family room and the
under the sea
room, so it’s another big day.”

“Yes, thank you everyone,” I add. “See you bright and early tomorrow.”

Will wilts a little, but hopefully he knows that having made it this far it’s just a matter of soldiering on.

“Oh! Don’t forget the author that will be joining us,” Paul says.

“Author?” Will asks. He glances at me but I’m surprised as well.

“I thought we didn’t have time for her, Paul?” I ask.

“Well, now that we’ve expanded this idea into a series of specials, she has a unique way of pulling it together. George agreed to it.”

I fold my arms over my chest and fall silent.
Can this day be over yet?

“So, what does this woman write about?” Will asks.

“Helena Marche… I guess you could say she writes about people with interesting hobbies,” Paul replies.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ve got to head out. Lindsey, do you mind checking everything when the guys are ready to go. I’ve got some things I need to take care of.”

“Sure, Sophia.” She doesn’t look sorry at all to be the last one to leave Will after the shoot.

“Thanks. I’m going to grab my stuff, and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

I head to the kitchen, and as I gather my backpack and coffee mug, I sense someone behind me. I turn and can’t decide if I’m happy or sad to see Will with big doe eyes staring at me from the doorway.

“You’re going?” he asks quietly. “I thought—”

One of the crew passes behind Will, so I motion for him not to say anything.

“Let’s talk outside for a minute,” he says moving to the back door.

I follow him outside. This is a conversation I’d prefer to avoid.

He sits on the top step of the deck and pats the space next to him.

I feel a mix of emotions as I sink down on the step. I wish I could pull him apart like a Russian nesting doll, one after the other—the charmer, the wounded child, the holiday over-doer—getting smaller and smaller until I got to the last doll. Will’s true self. Maybe then I would have the right words.

“So, you’re leaving now?”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“I thought… well, I hoped you’d stay. Can’t you?”

I look down. “I’m just really tired, so I think it would be good to rest at home and catch up with some work.”

“Oh, I understand,” he says quietly.

We watch Romeo head toward us, but instead of his usual enthusiasm, he approaches warily. When he’s a few feet away, he stops and sinks down to the ground just to the right of Will.

“Hey, what’s up, dude? You all right?” Will turns to me. “Romeo appears to be over you.”

“You know how it is with guys like him. You never hold their interest for long.”

Will shrugs. “Still, it’s strange. He’s normally not so fickle. He may flirt a lot, but when he makes his mind up about someone, that’s it.”

Romeo’s woeful eyes are just too much. Between disappointing Will and his little man, I feel guilty.

“Okay. I admit it. We had a conflict earlier, Romeo and I. Words were exchanged, spirits may have been broken.”

Will lifts his eyebrows. “Ah, so you let him down hard.”

“I guess you could say that.”

He holds out his hand, “Come here, boy.” Romeo comes right to Will, who lifts him up into his lap. Romeo turns and licks Will’s jaw. Will scratches him behind his ears.

“So she broke your heart? I’m sorry, dude. The road to love can be a rocky one.”

You aren’t kidding,
I think.

The more I watch the two boys together, the more it softens my unsteady heart. I extend my hand to Romeo as an offering of peace. He sniffs it tentatively and gives it a tiny lick. I scoot closer and rub the sweet spot on his chest, and he swoons.

“See that little kiss you just gave her, Romeo? Sometimes that’s all it takes. Just be classy and kind. Women like that,” Will tells his little friend encouragingly.

We sit quietly for a moment, loving up Romeo before I take a deep breath and stand.

I nod toward the house. “I better get going before…”

Will nods. “Okay. And you’re sure you’re all right? I just haven’t seen you like this before.”

I force myself to smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Well not really, but I will be
…
eventually,
I think.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say and walk to the back door. I take one last look. His back is to me as he and Romeo look out over the yard. His energy has changed as if I just pulled him down to where the light isn’t quite as bright and nothing is extraordinary.

Something occurs to me as I work my way through the house. Infatuation is magic with fireworks exploding in your heart in brilliant snaps and sparkles. But when the show is over, the sky is empty and darker than it was before.

My apartment feels emptier than usual. I wander around trying to figure out how to fill my time so I don’t miss the idea of Will. I jump when the door buzzer goes off. I’m not expecting anyone, so I’m wary as I approach the intercom.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sophia, it’s Will. Can I come up for a minute?”

“Will?” I let out a long sigh.
What’s he doing here
?

“Yeah, the guy from the shoot today.” He teases but sounds nervous.

I laugh softly, but it sounds sad. “What’s up? Why are you here?”

“Because. I. Want. To. See. You.”

There’s a long pause. “But I’m in sweats, I look terrible… I wasn’t expecting anyone.” I fire off, trying to persuade him to not come up.

His tone becomes determined. “And I have the biggest bunch of flowers here. So, if you don’t let me up, I’ll have to leave them here and some drunk coming home from a night at the clubs will get them instead of you.”

Thus commences another long pause as I try to decide what to do. Can I turn him away? I should since he probably considers me easy and just a flavor of the week. That would show him.

“I don’t—”

“Sophia, I’m here on your doorstep, with a bunch of flowers and a troubled heart. Are you really going to turn me away? Really?”

I let out a big sigh of defeat and press the buzzer extra long.

I’m standing in the open frame of my door when he gets off the elevator and walks down the hall. My hair’s pulled back in a severe ponytail and with my face sans make-up, I’m paler than ever. I’m sure my face resembles the moon on a hazy night, round and hopeless.

I focus on the flowers as he approaches. He holds them up as an offering. They’re the biggest bunch of Gerber daisies I’ve ever seen in one arrangement. It’s a big smile, a riot of color. The hot orange, yellow and pinks are explosions of happy, challenging every shade of gray I feel inside.

“For you.” He happily pushes them a little closer to me. He squares his shoulders back and looks proud with himself that he thought to bring them.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask giving him a small smile.

“I wanted to cheer you up. You seemed kind of down when you left today.”

“Thank you. That’s really sweet,” I say, taking the flowers and opening the door wider. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

His expression falls. Is he disappointed that I’m setting this up as a short visit?

He nods and follows me into the kitchen where I pull out a large vase and put the flowers in water.

“I was just having some tea. You want some?”

“No, thanks.”

I want to say something, but instead I just hold onto the edge of the kitchen counter as if to steady myself.

“I’m really here because I needed to talk to you,” he explains.

“Okay,” I say, carrying the vase out to the living room and setting the flowers on the coffee table. I settle down on the couch and he does the same. “What do you want to talk about?”

He twists his hands together. “This afternoon, I started talking to Stu as he packed up the lights.”

“I’m sure you got an earful,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, apparently he was impressed about what a stud I am.”

“Yeah, a real lady-killer,” I say, chagrined.

“He was under the impression that I had a line of babes to choose from.”

“I think everyone is under that impression now.”

“Including you?” he asks.

I nod and avert my eyes.

Will leans forward, his elbows pressed into his knees. “I swear that’s not the way I am. I want to see that footage because I would never portray myself that way. I just can’t believe it was that bad.”

“It was very enlightening,” I say softly.

He turns toward me, and I look away. I’m frowning and I can’t even pretend to be okay about all of this. I imagine his confidence—that he can convince me he isn’t a stud, is melting like ice on a hot sidewalk.

“Paul was the one portraying that image of me,” he argues.

“But you didn’t disagree. What else am I to think when you’re okay with being perceived that way on national television?”

His hands curl into fists and he presses them down on his knees.

“No. That’s not it.”

“And I’m normally so much more careful when I date. After we met I just jumped in with both feet. I mean look how close I came to sleeping with you and we’ve had, what… a few dates and meetings? I don’t normally do that. There’s so much I don’t know about you,” I say.

“What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything.”

“After today, I think I know all I need to know.”

“Damn, I knew this shit would backfire on me! This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this show, and I did it for you… to be with you. And now look at us.”

“Yeah, now look at us.” I rest my face in my hands.

A heavy silence falls between us, and I wonder if I should just ask him to leave. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be his girl. It’s so early on in our dating to have these kinds of problems.

He scans my living room and my stuff.

What’s he doing?
I’ve tried to portray a quirky elegance with my place. Besides the piles of books stacked everywhere, I have artfully framed pen and ink sketches on the walls. He’d noticed them during the last visit, and is interested in them again. He scans a vintage Parisian travel poster hanging just above old oversized wooden letters of varying shapes leaning up on the mantle. They spell out the word
i
nspire
. Just next to it he studies a small abstract sculpture. He points to the display.

“I like that,” he says quietly.

I scrutinize the sculpture, trying to understand why he’d bring it up just now. Is he trying to distract me?

“The sculpture? It’s by an Italian artist. I bought it when I was in Florence,” I explain.

“Wow, that’s cool. So when were you in Florence?”

I look up, thinking. “Just over two years ago?”

“Who’d you go with?”

I let out a big sigh. “My boyfriend at the time. His name was Marco.”

“Was he Italian?”

“Indeed, he was.”

“I see,” says Will, falling silent.

“So, you’ve had boyfriends in the past?”

I give him an exasperated look. “Yes, I have. But not an assembly line of them.”

“No, of course not. I would never have thought that of you.” He looks back at the mantle. “And where did you get those letters?”

I smile at the memory. “There was this guy in Covent Garden who inherited all of this vintage lettering stuff from his family. It was so cool. I wanted to buy his whole collection.”

“Covent Garden in London?” he asks.

“Yes, I spent a lovely afternoon there,” I reply.

“Who’d you go there with?”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I know what you’re getting at, Will. Yes, I’ve had boyfriends in the past. Not that many, but I have fallen in love before.”

“You have lived,” he says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.