Chapter 14 #2
‘Not in here,’ she says through clenched teeth. Grabbing my arm. Pulling me out into the corridor.
‘You’re late,’ she says, putting her hands on her hips. ‘And you said you’d be here on time. You promised. I was worried that that light fitting had fallen on you again and you were actually dead this time. Did something happen?’
‘No…’ I say, a flicker of guilt appearing as I do. Because something did happen. But it’s not an acceptable excuse for being late.
‘Are you sure?’ she asks, examining me. Looking me up and down, as if checking for injuries. ‘Are you sure you didn’t break your leg, or fall, or have some horrible accident that would make this all much easier for me to forgive you?’
‘No, Ally,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry – I ended up staying late at work.’
‘Did you have to?’ she asks.
And for a second, I want to tell a more elaborate lie.
I want to tell her I was contractually obliged to stay, that Alessandro asked me to film some more scenes.
Because that would be easier. But in this moment, I can’t.
I might not be able to tell her the full truth, but I can at least own this. It’s my fault I’m late.
‘No,’ I say quietly. Shame spilling through me. ‘I-I lost track of time, running lines in my trailer. I—’
‘Okay,’ she says, stepping back. Nodding. The shells of her bra bobbing slightly as she does. ‘Okay. I don’t want you here.’
What?
‘I’m serious, Lara,’ she says. ‘I don’t want you at this party.’
‘Why not? I’m sorry—’
‘Because you promised you’d be here and you weren’t. Because you say no to literally everything I invite you to. Because your career comes first, always. And I’m really fucking tired of coming second. I’ve had enough.’
‘You don’t come second, Ally—’
‘Yes, Lara,’ she says. ‘Yes, I do. Everyone does. You haven’t even seen Mum and Dad for months, except to move your stuff into their garage.
It’s always the next script, the next audition.
And that’s if you even tell us about it.
Everything is on your terms. And it hurts.
Because it makes me feel like I’m more of an inconvenience than a sister to you. ’
And I can’t help it – I know I’ve fucked up, but anger comes out instead.
‘You don’t exactly make it easy for me to tell you things, Ally,’ I say. She blinks for a second, looking hurt and surprised.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I mean,’ I say. ‘“Stop worrying, Lara”, “Get a life, Lara”, “Just do this and this and this and everything will be fine, Lara”. Because everything is fine for you, all the time. Because you literally breeze through life with no worries in the world. Because it was me that sat in the kitchen with Mum and Dad and helped them go through their bills. Me who was isolated at pretty much every school we went to while you went off and made friends like it was so simple. Telling me I just needed to try harder. Rolling your eyes when I went off to read during break times. Like it was my fault – for not trying hard enough, or putting myself out there enough. When I was trying. People just didn’t like me, Ally.
And I know that’s a foreign concept to you, but it’s true.
’ My heart pounds as I say the words, the hurt spilling out.
‘And I’m tired of feeling like you think I’m doing everything in my life wrong.
And I know I can be laser-focused sometimes and I know I’ve fucked up this evening.
But this – acting – is all I have. You have everything else. ’
‘No, I don’t,’ she says. ‘I don’t have a sister. And I haven’t had one in a long time.’
This hits me in the chest and tears start welling up in my eyes. ‘You don’t mean that, Ally,’ I say.
‘Acting isn’t all you have,’ she says. ‘Not by a long shot. And it makes me really fucking sad that you can’t see that.
And I think if you stopped holding everyone at arm’s length for one second you might see that it’s not true.
But tonight, I’ve had enough. I don’t want you here and I don’t want to talk to you right now.
I want to go back in there and have a nice time with my friends. I need you to leave.’
I stand for a few seconds, my chest heaving as I process the weight of her words.
‘Okay,’ I say, eventually. Nodding, even as my heart breaks.
Because I can see that my presence here is making everything worse.
Because I might feel angry, but I fucked up.
And it’s her birthday. And she deserves to have a nice evening, with or without me there.
I hand her her gift – a necklace I spent the last few weeks looking for on Etsy.
Something she mentioned wanting from an antique shop a while ago, but it was too expensive at the time.
I thought it might be a nice use of some of the money I’m being paid now.
Was thinking about maybe buying her a holiday too – for all of us, with Mum and Dad – once filming was over.
Because I might not have spent enough time with them lately, but I want to give them the life they deserve.
Because I do love all of them in my own way, even though I’m not always good at showing it.
But Alison doesn’t want to hear any of this right now.
So I let go of the bag, leave it in her hands and head towards the door.
I reach up to open it with my hand, which is still encased in a papier maché lobster claw.
Alison sent them to my hotel and I realise now she made them by hand.
I try and fail to grab hold of the handle a few times, eventually pulling the claws off and sticking them under my arm.
I go for the door again – but I can feel that she’s still there, watching.
And so I turn back, tears welling up again.
Spilling down the red face paint in streaks.
‘I’m sorry, Ally,’ I say. She doesn’t respond. Just wipes a tear from her own eyes, paints a smile on her face and goes back into the party.
★ ★ ★
When I get back to the hotel, I find Avi waiting outside my room.
I didn’t even know he knew my room number; he must’ve asked at Reception or something.
Fuck, I think. Not this. Not now. My heart thuds against my chest as I approach him, because after the confrontation with Alison just now, he’s the last person I want to see.
Because I haven’t yet worked out how I feel about anything he’s thrown at me today.
Because, despite myself, the first thing I think when I look at his face is how it felt for him to push me up against the wall of my trailer earlier today. And how I want to do that again.
‘Are you okay?’ is his first question. Then, ‘What are you wearing?’ I look down.
I almost forgot I was still in full costume.
I must look an absolute mess – full red Morphsuit, face streaked with red face paint.
He’s looking me up and down like I might’ve actually lost my mind. But in this moment, I don’t care.
‘Now’s not a good time,’ I say to him, approaching the door with my room key.
‘Please, Lara,’ he says. ‘Five minutes. I-I feel like I need to explain myself more. To apologise for some things. I didn’t say enough earlier.’
And I want to say no – am about to. But I’m tired and worn down. Angry with myself, with Alison. I don’t have the strength to turn him down right now.
‘Five minutes,’ I say, opening the door and letting him through.
He sits down on a chair and I sit down on the bed opposite, dropping my bag and the lobster claws by the door on my way.
‘I should have told you, Lara,’ he says. ‘I owed you that, owed you a lot more, honestly. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot, the things I should’ve said, from the beginning. That I haven’t. So, if you’ll hear me out, I’d like to say them now.’
I nod. Because honestly – despite the terrible timing – I want to hear them.
He looks down at his lap for a second, gathering his thoughts.
‘I need you to know,’ he says. ‘When I left, back then – I was stupid. I shouldn’t have told you it was a mistake that I kissed you.
Should have dealt with it better, when you told me I shouldn’t have put our friendship on the line.
Because you were right – it was my mistake. But that was my own stuff.’
I blink. I wasn’t expecting this. I find myself wondering what he means by ‘stuff’.
A few of the things he’s said coming to mind: about his agent, about the pressure on him, about letting the opinions of others in.
I begin to wonder if that might’ve had something to do with it.
But before I can say anything, he continues.
‘Your postcards kept me going, those first few months – they were a tether to home. They made me feel… normal. And when I came back for the Christmas party and saw you, all I felt was that I’d missed you so much.
And you were the only person I wanted to talk to.
I hadn’t planned to kiss you and I freaked out.
So I left and thought I could make it up to you the next day.
By apologising. By telling you it was a mistake. Honestly, I thought you’d agree.’
What? I thought I was being so obvious, honestly – was sure that half the bar knew I had a crush on him, even when we were working together.
‘Why would you think that?’ I ask, incredibly confused.
‘Because,’ he says, letting out a breath.
‘I don’t know… you’re… you, Lara. You’re brilliant and beautiful, and so talented.
But there were so many times back then that I had no idea what you were thinking.
And when I kissed you, and you pulled away and looked a little freaked out, I thought I’d got it all wrong. ’