Chapter 19 #2
‘I would apologise to any of our fans who feel let down by the fact that we weren’t telling the truth,’ she says.
‘Who trusted us, and feel that trust has been betrayed. We never meant for that to be the impact of all this. We’re just two humans who were trying to protect our private lives as best we could. ’
‘And why now?’ the interviewer asks. ‘Why are you coming forward with this?’
‘Because I hurt someone,’ Avi says. ‘Badly. And none of this was her fault – it was all mine. It was an error of judgement. But only in the sense that I pulled her into something she never asked to be involved in in the first place.’
‘Lara Francis?’
He nods, slowly. ‘And I hope she doesn’t mind me talking about her when she’s not here to speak for herself.
But I just want to say, so it’s clear: she did nothing wrong.
She is not at any fault here. The fault is all mine.
And I’m lucky and grateful that Sienna agreed to come on this podcast, so I can set the record straight. For Lara’s sake too.’
And the segment ends. I click out of the video, my hand shaking.
‘Oh, my God,’ I say to myself. A text pings in from Alison, saying pretty much the same.
I sit on the bench for what feels like an hour, just staring into space. Processing Avi’s words. What he’s just done – for me. And I get up, not sure where I’m going to go. Realising how wrong I was about it, all of it.
And, like magic, I see him, across the other side of the park. His eyes flicking up and meeting mine.
I cross the park to him. My heart thumping in my chest. Because I don’t know what the outcome of this conversation will be – but I know that I want to talk to him, right now, more than anyone else.
‘Did you follow me here?’ I ask. He nods.
‘I…’ he starts. ‘I had an inkling from the look on your face when I mentioned the interview that you might listen to it. So I thought I’d wait until you’d seen it. See if afterwards you maybe wanted to talk…’
He looks down, as if he’s gathering his thoughts.
Trying to think about what to say. But before he can speak, someone interrupts us.
An older woman, pulling off her sunglasses.
‘Are you Avi Kumar?’ she asks, squinting at him.
Avi opens his mouth to tell her – presumably – that, yes, he is, but we’re in the midst of a private conversation.
Before he can, she leans in towards him.
Pulling out her camera and snapping a selfie.
I watch her take it, Avi’s expression thunderous, and she turns to walk off.
But then she catches sight of me. For a second she looks at me and my heart thuds, wondering if she might’ve recognised me from some of the press.
But instead she just says, ‘Sorry, dear, I didn’t see you there,’ and walks off.
A rush of relief passes through me and I almost laugh.
‘Watch out,’ he says. ‘Once this film is out, that’ll be you too.’
‘I’ve been thinking about buying some wigs actually,’ I joke. ‘But it seems like that won’t be necessary. That woman had literally no idea who I was.’
He laughs, and then his face darkens momentarily. The reality of our situation crashing back in through the levity.
‘Did you hear about David?’ he asks, and I frown.
‘What about him?’
‘The leak,’ he says. ‘It was him. I hear he’s going to do a tell-all about it tomorrow – my publicist somehow managed to get wind of it. Probably either a cash grab or a career move. We managed to move the podcast date up to get ahead of it.’
What the fuck? I think, the knowledge sinking into my chest. Trying to reconcile the image I had of David – businesslike, bustling – with something conniving like this.
His attitude did seem strange, now I think about it, on the last day on-set.
Like he was more worried about my well-being than usual.
Guilt, maybe. And I think of Roman, the picture becoming clearer by the second.
The flowers, perhaps meant as an olive branch.
His confusion and seemingly genuine assertion that it wasn’t him: both things I dismissed at the time.
And I feel suddenly bad for how I spoke to him, that last day: because he treated me terribly on-set, and there was no way I could’ve known.
But I know better than anyone what it’s like to be accused of a crime you didn’t commit.
‘I thought it was—’
‘Roman,’ he says. ‘I know. Me too.’
‘Wow,’ I reply. I can’t quite wrap my head around this – I feel like my world is tilting on its axis for the millionth time in the last few weeks.
‘I’m so sorry, Lara,’ he says, through the silence. And his face breaks, and my heart clenches at the sight.
‘Avi—’ I start, ready to say… honestly, I’m not sure what. Because, in this moment, the avalanche of my emotions is crashing back in. And I’m not sure I can put it into words.
‘Please,’ he says, before I can find them. ‘Let me finish.’ I nod, letting out a breath. He looks at me, an intensity in his eyes that makes me almost want to look away. But I don’t – keeping my gaze fixed on his.
‘I never meant to make you feel like a mistake,’ he says, his voice full of emotion.
‘Not when I left, the first time. Not this time, either. I have never, ever thought of you that way. Both times, I thought I was doing what was best – for you. Maybe also for me. But I can see now that I fucked it up.’
I let out a breath, asking the question I should’ve asked at the time. The one I think I know the answer to, now. But still, I need to hear him say it.
‘When you said a few weeks ago that you thought my life would be better without you in it,’ I say. ‘What did you mean?’
He looks at me, the expression in his eyes so devastated I want to reach over and take his hand.
‘I was losing it, Lara,’ he says. ‘I was in such a dark place. I honestly… I couldn’t see anything good about myself. I was drowning. And then I saw you at the Christmas party and it felt like a light came on.’
I close my eyes, remembering – the look on his face, like the sun had come out. Feeling like I was the only person in the room. Like the last six months without him just melted away, because he was finally there. He swallows.
‘But then when we met the next day and I could see how hurt you were, I fell back there. Into stupid thoughts – ones that convinced me I was going to drag you into the hole too. That I needed to cut things off between us. Because I was only going to hurt you if I didn’t.’
‘Avi…’ I say, my throat constricting. Because it’s heartbreaking that he felt that way. And it’s so far from the truth it physically hurts. We’ve lost so much time, I think.
‘I’m so sorry. But you know that wasn’t true, right?
I just…’ I pause, gathering my thoughts.
‘I was angry. That you crossed that line, then took it back. But that didn’t mean I didn’t care when you stopped talking to me.
It didn’t mean I didn’t want you in my life.
My life…’ I take a breath, looking at him.
Trying to find a way to put everything I’m feeling right now into words.
‘It was so much better, always, with you in it.’
He looks at me for a long second, his expression filled with an emotion I can’t quite place.
He nods. ‘I could see how stupid I’d been when you lost it at me after the audition.
And there’s no excuse for the way I treated you.
Not now, not then. And this time, I was being stupid too.
Because I couldn’t see how trapped I was – how much I was willing to sacrifice my own happiness.
Yours, too. For the sake of something that wasn’t even real to begin with. ’
He stops for a minute, takes a breath. Whatever he’s about to say must be big.
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last week and I feel like I’m seeing more clearly now than ever.
That those expectations I felt don’t have to define me.
That I get to define myself. To choose what I want.
That my priorities can change and it’s not going to ruin everything.
I can do both. Go after my own happiness and inspire people too.
It doesn’t have to be one or the other. But I have to be honest, with myself and with other people, in order to do that. ’
He’s smiling now, grinning really, and my heart soars – because this is all I could have wanted for him.
And selfishly I wonder whether there might be hope, still, for us.
That maybe this means he’ll come to London.
Do some theatre, like he said. I take his hand, my heart thudding.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘So be honest with me, now. What do you want?’
He looks up at me, his eyes burning with something. ‘Honestly? You, Lara.’
I close my eyes, the truth of it hitting me full in the chest. Because that’s all I want too. But before I can say anything, he starts talking again.
‘But,’ he says. ‘I need a little time to figure out what I’m doing. And I can’t risk putting you in any kind of a situation like that again until I know. I’m sorry.’
Oh, I think. My heart breaking as he says it.
‘But, if you’ll consider it,’ he says. ‘I’d really like to be a friend to you again.’
I nod – a sadness pulsing through me for everything that’s been lost. The time we could’ve spent together, still being friends. Being something more, even. But that won’t be possible, right now.
‘I would like that,’ I say.
When I’m home, I find the house empty. I shut the door behind me, still processing the conversation I just had with Avi, and head straight up the stairs to my childhood bedroom.
The poster of Deborah is still up on the wall.
Acting manual after acting manual on the shelf.
No pictures of friends, or tickets to events – the kinds of things I know are still littered in Alison’s room.
The box of postcards from Avi – the only evidence of any friendship I really had, outside of work – long gone by now.
And for the first time, looking at it, I realise that it doesn’t look like a home.
And as I look around – at the acting books, the scripts I printed on my parents’ printer, none of which gave me comfort while I was hiding from the world – I find myself thinking about the house share I lived in before the film.
Spencer and Hannah’s things thrown around the place.
His sheet music, marked up in blue pen. Her hand-crocheted blankets thrown over the sofa.
I cross the room to the book Spencer and Hannah gave me.
I open it, carefully pulling out the note that sent me over the edge the other day.
I fold it out, looking at it again. The list of things – what I thought I needed – to have the life I wanted.
The goals that, once I achieved them, would fix everything.
1. Pursue acting with everything I can, not letting anything get in my way
2. Get my first role in a film
3. Not care about what anyone thinks (especially Alison)
I’ve spent my life narrowing my vision down to a point. Always transitioning, never putting down roots.
But slowly, over the last few weeks, some of that has been chipped away. To let other people in. To expand the world beyond the four walls of my room.
I think about Amelia, about how much of her confidence I’ve embodied in the last few weeks. Her sense of self. Her ability to walk into most rooms and command them. And I realise that I’ve been afraid, for so very long.
But maybe that’s just it: the difference between Amelia and I.
She has always been willing to take bigger risks.
Because she has always known her worth. Because the rewards can be really high, if you’re just willing to put yourself out there.
To try. And perhaps I can let go of the version of myself who holds back.
Who hides. Because that’s what I’ve been doing: hiding behind my career.
Stubbornly seeing it as all I would ever have to offer.
But Alison was right: there was always more to me than that.
I just didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to open up, to let it out.
Because I was afraid that other people wouldn’t like it – that they wouldn’t see it, too.
I took a risk, opening myself up to Avi. Then, and now. And it hasn’t worked out the way I wanted it to. But the feeling I have now – of having been honest and true, of having given something a chance. That’s worth the risk.
And before I know it, I’m picking up a pen. Tearing a new sheet of paper from a notebook on the shelf. A feeling of determination and peace coming over me. And I press the tip of the pen to the sheet, the words flowing through me as if coming from somewhere else. A new list: a fresh start.
1. Keep giving everything I can to this dream.
2. Make sure I have a life too.