Chapter 41 Alexander
Alexander
Before my trip to London, I hardly used my home office, but in the three weeks since I’ve been back, I’ve been in there more than anywhere else.
I flew through a pre-recorded screenwriting course, read everything my grandparents wrote, and I am now outlining a screenplay.
I’m not going to be telling their story—I’m honestly not sure if they would want that—but I’m going to use it as a basic framework for a new story.
Centered around the war, yes, but also centered around love.
Love is the overarching theme of the box.
It’s what got my grandfather through his toughest days in the war, and the love and longing in their letters made me tear up more than once while reading.
The tears likely had to do with my emotional state, because had I received this box without having met Ivy, I’m not sure it would have made me cry.
At first, it was hard reading about their love after having lost mine.
Their situation was obviously far more difficult, but still, the longing in their writing hit a little too close to home.
However, their letters became more and more encouraging the longer I read.
They had hope. They knew their love was strong and would survive until the war was over.
If they could overcome and have the happy life I know they had, why couldn’t Ivy and I?
I have a couple of months before filming is set to begin. We’ll be filming for two months in Georgia. I’ll be just over three and a half hours from Ivy, and I have a plan. If I can wait that long.
There was certainly damage control to be done when I got back from London.
My agent drafted a statement reminding everyone that Grey and I had broken up just after the premiere of The Mark of Everlore, and we had never been engaged.
I’d asked him to say that the woman in the photos was just a friend.
He promptly pulled up the photos of us dancing and it was clear that would never work.
I look like a man who is absolutely drowning in love for the woman in his arms. And one of the more encouraging things for me? She looks at me the very same way.
I’d hoped to keep her name out of the papers, but it was no use.
I’d not been back in LA for fifteen minutes, when I got a message from my assistant that her name and her restaurant had been published all over.
I’d wanted to text her. To grovel and apologize, but there was nothing I could say to make it better. Exactly what she’d feared had happened.
Instead, I issued a statement asking people to respect her privacy. Telling them that if they are looking for me, they will not find me with her, and that she does not lead a public life, and has no desire to.
I hope she saw it and read the apology between the lines.
“You’ve got to get out of here and go … literally anywhere,” Grey says as she waltzes into my office.
“What are you doing here? I need to change the codes,” I say, but I know I won’t. Not because of Grey, anyway.
“We may not be in a fake relationship anymore, but we’re still friends. You’ve been holed up in here like a hermit since you got back.” She pauses, looking around at all the papers, letters, and journals, along with my empty take-out container from lunch. “And am I wrong?” She eyes me doubtfully.
Over a week of texts, I'd told her the abridged version of everything with Ivy. She’d always asked what I was up to, and looking back, I realize my answer was always the same. Working on something in my office.
“You’re not wrong. But it’s nothing to be concerned about. I’m working on something exciting.” I lean back in my desk chair. “People are going to think we’re back together if you’re letting yourself into my house.”
“I was careful.” She waved off my concern. “I’m glad you’re working on something exciting, but what about Ivy? How is your heart?”
“How is my heart?” I laugh at her phrasing. “It’s been better, but I’ve decided not to give up.”
“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. It can work out. I know it can.”
“Aren’t you still seeing your boyfriend from back home in secret? How often do you see each other?” If anyone could understand my situation, it’s Grey.
“Yes, I’m still seeing Conner. We see each other once a month or so, depending on filming. Sometimes more than that.” She shrugs as if this is fine. Perfectly normal. Like it’s something I could do and be happy with.
I am not like Grey.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It works for now. It’s not permanent. He has to stay home because he’s his grandfather’s caregiver. But one day … one sad day, his grandfather will no longer be with us, and Conner will come out here. We’ll get married, and he will be my trophy husband.” She grins at that last bit.
“And he will be content to just bum about at home? And be your arm candy?”
“Arm candy? Always. I’m sure eventually he would want to get a job of some sort, but honestly, he has worked so hard these past several years, that I wouldn’t blame him if he never worked another day in his life.”
One major difference with my situation is that Ivy would never want to live here. I certainly can’t imagine her wanting to bum about too much. She loves her job and her small-town life.
“You seem lost in your thoughts. Please tell me you’re cooking up a plan to get your girl back.”
I smile. Grey really is a good friend. “I’m making alterations to a plan, yes.”
“How can I help?”
Mr. and Mrs. Parker are standing behind their restaurant counter, heads bent together, looking at a paper. Mr. Parker has his arm around his wife, and it makes me smile.
“Good morning,” I say as I approach.
“Ah, Alexander. Wonderful to see you,” Mr Parker says, and I try my best to store their warm smiles in a permanent space in my memory.
“I’m glad to see you both, as well. And I’d love it if you would call me Alex.
I’ve always preferred that name. I’m not sure why I’ve always given Alexander to people.
” I don’t know why I ask this of them given what I’ve come here to tell them.
I think I’ve got used to Ivy calling me Alex, and I miss it.
Maybe that’s the name I want those I care for most to call me.
This request makes Mrs. Parker grin like she knows why I asked.
“What can we get you today, Alex?” she asks, and for a moment, I can see how mum-like she is, and it makes me miss having one. Mine was, in many ways, quite different from Mrs. Parker, but the tenderness and the urge to care for others are the same.
“I always love it when you surprise me.”
“I know just the thing. Have a seat and I’ll pop by with your tea and water in a minute.”
“Would you both have a moment to sit and talk with me?”
“Sure,” Mr. Parker says. “Maybe I’ll have some tea, too.”
“Have you tried the hot tea before?” I ask, wondering if I should confess and warn him off.
“I have. It’s a nice change from coffee sometimes.”
I nod. Maybe I’m a tea snob. I head to my usual booth and wait.
A couple of minutes later, they are seated across from me, each of us with a tea and a blueberry muffin.
“What’s going on, Alex, dear?” Mrs. Parker says without preamble.
“I came in today because it’s been a while and I wanted to see you. And also because I wanted to let you know that I may not be around much anymore.”
“Got a big film to shoot somewhere far away?” Mr. Parker asks.
My eyes go wide, and they both laugh.
“Teddy and I may not watch television or films,” Mrs. Parker says with a smile, “but we’re not totally unaware.
We just see you as a person, like anyone else, so that’s how we treated you at first. Then you became more than just a person to us.
You slowly became like family. Family we don’t often get to see.
But family, nonetheless.” She reaches across the table and pats my hand.
“Also,” Mr. Parker added. “We don’t usually watch TV or movies, but we went to see The Mark of Everlore.”
Mrs. Parker smiled. “We wanted to support you and see you at work.”
“You went to see it? Really?”
“Really. And we are so proud of you,” Mrs. Parker said. “It was wonderful.”
Mr. Parker nodded.
“I can’t tell you how much that means to me. And I’m sorry I never told you. At first, I really enjoyed being with people who didn’t know. Which apparently wasn’t the case. And then, as time went on, it felt like a weird thing to come out and say.”
“We understood why you never said anything. You were genuine in all the ways that matter, and that’s all we needed, to know you were special to us,” Mr. Parker said, clapping a hand on my shoulder from across the table.
“And not in the way you’re special to the world,” Mrs. Parker adds. “I know you don’t have any family left on this earth, but I want you to know that you have us.”
Tears fill my eyes. I’ve never been much of a crier, but here I am, yet again, letting my emotions have full reign. Mrs. Parker urges her husband out of the booth, then slides out. Before I know it she’s sitting beside me, pulling me into her arms.
It’s probably a full minute before she relaxes her arms and straightens. “Alright. Tell us about this movie that’s stealing you away.”
I smile. “It’s not a movie. I mean, there is one before long. But the thing is ... I’ve met someone.”