8. Elena
My body still feels like it took a pounding when I wake, reaching for where Liam fell asleep. But the bed is cold and he isn’t with me. I listen for a few minutes, hoping to hear him in the kitchen cooking for me, but the apartment is silent. Only the sound of the squeaky innerspring of this pullout sofa mattress. I was horribly ashamed when in our drunken state I had to explain to Liam that I don’t have a bed. He’s a gazillionaire, and this dumpy little apartment has no room for an actual bed.
Yawning, I turn over to pick up my phone from the end table and find a nice note from him. He enjoyed last night a lot and wants to do it again tonight. I’m sure he means the sex—which was incredible. I give myself good orgasms sometimes, but fuck, if that wasn’t the most amazing night I’ve ever had. Liam can do things to my body I never knew were possible, and he wore me out. Sex four times in one night on my first go may not have been the best idea.
I set the note aside and pick up my phone. There’s no way tonight will work, anyway. After being up until the wee hours of the morning, I’m exhausted. I have errands this morning, and I have to be at the theater by two. The show won’t be over until after ten, and by then I think I’ll be feeling the effects of tonight pretty hard. I’ll have to let him down easily. My body needs rest.
As I stretch, I unlock my phone and head straight to the news app. By now, the critics will have spoken about last night’s show and the verdict will be out. I’ve been following what they say about each show every Saturday morning since I got to the city, and it usually gives me a bit of anxious energy. Today, however, I’m feeling dread. I was awful and I know it. I forgot lines, clumsily tripped over things, and overall, I wasn’t prepared for being the understudy. I spent all my time memorizing my lines.
The reviews don’t surprise me one bit when the app finally loads. Kershner says I was “mediocre at best”, and his partner Williams hasn’t even left a review. Either he wasn’t there or he was so disappointed, he feels there is no point in even saying a thing. My vote is on the latter. I am disappointed.
I let the phone fall to my chest and my arms drop to my sides. Then I close my eyes and try to keep an open mind. It was tough for everyone last night. We only just heard about Nina’s accident moments before final prep began. There were three understudies in total since Trixie had to take my assigned role with me moving into Nina’s spot, and Trixie’s understudy flubbed everything too. None of the cast thought this would happen. It shouldn’t have happened.
Forcing myself up off the bed, I lay my phone back on the charger on the end table and slipped out of bed. The air’s cool, chilling my body so much my nipples get hard. I never sleep naked, but at whatever ungodly hour it was when we finally finished our romping and he pulled me into his chest to sleep, I was too drunk to care and too satiated to notice. Shivering, I head to the bathroom to relieve my bladder and find warmth in the steam of a hot shower.
Yesterday was a whirlwind. I woke up thinking the day would be quite normal, and by midafternoon, I was already stressed out. I’m glad Liam was there to help me shift my thinking and finish the show, and I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to such a rough day. I turn on the shower water and step in, focusing on how today can be better than yesterday.
The warmth slowly seeps into my bones as I wash my body and shampoo my hair. I close my eyes and remember how amazing being with Liam felt, even as the soap runs across my torn skin and causes it to burn and sting. I have no measuring stick to gauge whether Liam’s dick is above average, but he felt massive and my poor pelvis is feeling the effects of it. I was shocked by how much blood there was when that first round was done, but it didn’t stop me from begging for it again and again.
I have zero regrets, either, even when the soap makes me wince and grimace. I’ll heal in a few days, but I’ll always have the memories of last night. All of them—the good ones and the bad ones, and ones I wish never happened.
Nina should be at the theater, not laid up in a hospital bed. I wonder what Warren found out when the guys went there last night. I was so worried about the play critics’ reviews, I didn’t even check my messages. Liam said we could go to the hospital today, but since he’s gone, I guess that’s out. I will have to go by myself, but I don’t mind. He doesn’t know her anyway, and it would only be uncomfortable for her.
After finishing in the shower, I shut the water off and dry my skin, then wrap my hair up in the towel. I shiver all the way to my makeshift dresser, which is really a buffet I picked up at a flea market. The rest of my apartment is spic and span, but this little buffet looks like a teenage boy’s bedroom. I just shove all my clothes in here without folding them, which makes it more difficult to find what I need right now when I’m cold and my hands are shaking.
I manage to get an outfit on, and the air conditioning doesn’t seem quite so bad as I dry my hair and brush it. I don’t like going out in public without my hair done, but if I style it now, I have to wash it again before this evening so my hair and makeup crew don’t have to mess with hair product or strange crimps in my hair from a rubber band or hair clip. When I’m ready, I snag my shoulder bag, shove my phone into it, and head out.
As I sit on the train heading north toward the hospital, I flick through my messages. Warren sent several chiding me for not going with the group last night, though from the looks of it, they sat there and worried themselves into exhaustion, then went home without answers, anyway. I made the right choice, and he’s steamed, and I don’t really care that much. My evening went exactly how it should have gone, and I think I’m actually falling in love with Liam.
The train stops at my station, and I head up to the sidewalk. Hundreds of people walk along with me, most of them looking ahead and not talking, but a few have their phones out and a few have headphones or earbuds. It’s very different from the Midwest where everyone says good morning or good evening. I feel like an outsider, and maybe I am. I don’t ever want to become cold and stodgy like these people.
Inside the hospital is different. I’m immediately greeted by polite staff at the welcome desk. An elderly man smiles up at me. He wears a bright blue vest with a name tag that tells me his name is Burt.
“Hi, Burt. I need a room number. I’m here to visit a friend.” I lean on the counter, resting my forearm there as I keep hold of my bag with my other hand.
“Let’s see…” He starts typing on his computer and then looks up at me. “Name?”
“Nina Byler.” I press my lips together and wait patiently as he pulls up the information.
“Ms. Byler is in room 3404.” He points up the hallway where a steady stream of people is moving. “You’ll want the third floor. The elevators are that way. If you need anything, you can come back here. The nurses on floor three will be able to direct you right to the room.” He has kind eyes and a warm smile, and I already feel more at home.
Strange how a hospital, of all places, makes me feel at home rather than the theater. I was raised in theaters and disdain hospitals for obvious reasons. But I float toward the elevators a bit more comfortable with myself. As I pass the gift shop, I decide to stop and get a balloon. Nina might not be awake now, but when she wakes up, I want her to see I’ve been here. I can’t very well sit and wait for her around the clock, but she will see the balloon and be thankful she has friends.
I buy a mylar balloon and continue on my way to her room, navigating the twisting hallways with some help from the nurses, and finally, I find her room. I knock lightly and hear a male voice summon me. When I push the door open and walk in, I feel the weight of the room before I can even see her.
Machines whir and beep. A man and a woman sit on the couch along the wall. There is no window, only a television mounted at the far end of the tiny room. The couple looks up at me in surprise.
“Hi… I, uh…” I hold the balloon out. “My name is Elena. I work with Nina. I just stopped by to see her.” I continue moving into the room deeper until I”m past the curtain and I can see how banged up she is.
Nina lies on the bed with tubes coming out of her at every angle. Her mouth looks more like a conduit for all that plastic, lips darkened by bruises. Her eyes are shut, her head wrapped. She has scrapes and cuts all over her hands and arms, and the couple on the couch look like they’ve been crying. The woman stands and rushes over to me, wrapping her arms around me tightly.
“Nina told us about you. Thank you so much for coming.” Her embrace is uncomfortably tight, but I say nothing.
“You’re welcome. How is she?” When I pull away, I see the woman crying. I assume these are her parents. Who else would they be?
“Not good, hun.” She grips my arm and squeezes it, then lets go and returns to her spot on the couch. “She has a bad concussion, swelling on the brain. Multiple broken bones and lacerations.”
The man takes over when the woman breaks down crying, and I set the balloon on the small tray table at the side of the bed. “They are not sure whether she’ll make it. She’s in critical care. That’s what this unit is.” His lower lip trembles as he speaks, and I see the pain in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” My own emotions well up, filling my eyes. It’s not supposed to be this way. Nina is so young. She has her whole life ahead of her. She should be on that stage, not in this bed. “Is there anything I can do?”
Her mother looks up at me. “Pray. That’s the only thing anyone can do now.” She sniffles and uses a tissue to wipe her eyes.
My heart sinks. The accident must’ve been far worse than anyone knew. Swelling on the brain sounds dangerous, and if doctors don’t know whether she’ll make it, how will the show ever go on? I need Liam. I need his arms around me and his voice soothing me.
When I can’t stand the sight of Nina’s pain any longer, I back out of the room and lean against the wall, sobbing. Life is cruel and fate even crueler. If this is what the fates have in mind for me—removing good lives to clear a path for me to be thrust into the spotlight—I don’t want it.
I want to go home.
When I’ve collected myself, I reach into my bag and pull out my phone. As I walk back toward the elevator, I call my mother and she answers on the second ring. “Elena! How are you? I miss you so much.”
My tears are impossible to hold back and I cry into the phone. “Mom… I need some comfort.”
“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?” Just the sound of her voice is comforting to me.
“One of my costars is in the hospital. She was in an accident.” I don’t even know whether she can comprehend my words. I’m crying too hard.
“Aw, sweetheart. I’m sorry that happened. Accidents happen all the time. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Mom has no idea what’s happening, so I spell it out for her.
“This isn’t the first thing that’s gone wrong. My director was mugged too.” I sniffle and swipe at my face. “And I keep getting strange fan mail from obsessed fans. I just don’t feel safe.”
“Well, honey, the city is a big place, and scary things happen there. We talked about this before you moved.” She’s right. We did talk about it, but not this. Not specific things that make it seem like they’re all happening around me for a reason.
“No, Mom. I feel like they’re connected. Like someone is doing these things to send me a message.” I shudder and hug my arm across my stomach as I press the elevator call button.
“If you’re worried, you can come home. Or you can report this to the police. Baby, I don’t like the idea of your being alone in that big city, anyway. Just come home.”
If only it were that easy. If only small-town Ohio were where my career would take off and I could follow my dreams there. My friends are there. My family is there. My hopes started there, but I always knew I couldn’t stay. To do what I want to do means to take risks and get out on my own, and to leave New York would be to give up.
“I can’t, Mom.”
“Well, you can call the police if anything else happens.” She sounds resolute. Life is cut and dry for her. But to me, it isn’t so much. The police will think I’m crazy. If I have a weird stalker, how would he create a car accident and get away with it? The mugging suspect is behind bars. I feel like I’m going crazy.
“I’m gonna lose you, Mom. I’m getting in the elevator. I’ll call later.”
The doors slide open, and I step in, hanging up the phone. But the tears return with a vengeance, and the entire way down to the ground floor, I cry. Today doesn’t feel better than yesterday. It feels worse. I feel worse. I want Liam.