7. Grey
Chapter 7
Grey
“ J ulie, I fucked up,” I say the following night at family dinner, which is just a nice way of saying “Grey third-wheels Piers-and-Julie-night.” Tonight they’re cooking a traditional English Sunday roast, which smells mouth-wateringly good. It was my favorite meal growing up, and always reminds me of cozy days at home, sitting around the dinner table with Piers and our parents.
“What did you do this time?” She sighs, sitting down next to me on the couch and crossing her legs as she faces me.
“That was definitely a judgmental tone. I thought therapists weren’t supposed to judge.”
“I’m not your therapist.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Let me rephrase: I’m allowed to judge you because I’m your sister-in-law who just so happens to be a therapist.”
“Good one, babe,” Piers comments from his spot on the carpet where he’s playing tug-of-war with Julie’s Maltese dog. Well, I guess it’s both of theirs now since they’re married and living together, but it was originally Julie’s. The dog seems extra vicious today, probably because she’s been smelling the roast cook all day and knows she won’t get to eat any of it. To be fair, that does seem like a form of psychological warfare.
I frown. “Maybe I should get a new therapist.”
“Any other therapist certainly wouldn’t invite you over to their house, serve you dinner, and listen to your many fuck-ups for free,” Piers points out.
“True. All right, fine. Julie, I’ll stick with you.”
“The honor,” she replies sarcastically. “So what did you do?”
“I put a fake snake at Aspen’s trailer door on our first day of filming. It was supposed to be a prank, but she actually got scared and fell and scraped her elbow. And now she’s—pretty rightfully, I admit—pissed at me.”
Julie’s mouth gapes. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“It was a prank! It was supposed to be a peace offering for being rude to her at the table read last week.”
“A fake snake was a peace offering ?” Julie asks, dumbfounded. She looks at Piers like I’m some misbehaving toddler.
“Yeah, it was a lighthearted joke. A way to make contact with her and let her know that I didn’t mean anything personal by saying no to a coffee.”
Piers starts cracking up.
“What?” I ask, heat flooding my face.
“I’m just imagining Aspen’s face when she realized it was you who put that there. Usually, mate, when you dig yourself a hole, you don’t keep digging . If she didn’t like you before, she definitely hates you now.”
“How do I fix it?”
“I would say try being nice, but if pranking people is your way of being nice, don’t do that.” Julie responds. “Why don’t you try just being honest with her? Tell her you messed up—twice—and you hope she can forgive you and start over.”
“I’m not saying that, it’s too sappy. There’s a reason I tried to apologize by pranking her, in the first place. I don’t like heart-to-hearts; they make me incredibly uncomfortable.”
“In that case, you could just pretend to spill water all over her script.”
“Really?”
“No,” Julie and Piers say in unison.
“How thick are you?” Piers says.
“Julie, help me,” I plead, ignoring Piers. “How do I fix this?”
“Why is it up to me?”
“Because you always know what to do.”
“Just apologize to her, Grey. You’re going to have to pull yourself together and tell Aspen that you’re sorry, and that your heart was in the right place. And for the love of God, don’t play any more pranks on her.”
The next day before rehearsal starts, I look everywhere on set for Aspen but can’t find her. The first time I see her is when we’re called to begin rehearsal, but at that point we’re too preoccupied for me to get a word in. Finally, when we take a break an hour and a half later, I walk after her, hoping to catch up to her. But, damn, she’s fast. She expertly weaves through the crowd and shuts her trailer door before I can reach her.
I know knocking would be useless, so instead I find a pad of paper and a pen and begin writing.
Aspen—
I’m sorry that I was rude at the table read. I generally keep my castmates at a distance, as a rule. You might have heard about my failed relationship with my old Bond costar.
I tear the paper from the pad and crumple it. I restart.
Aspen—
I am an idiot. The snake was my way of apologizing for accidentally being rude at the table read. I realize now that putting a snake at someone’s door isn’t the best way to win them over.
I tear that out too. Attempt three.
Aspen—
I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot. Completely my fault, I know. I’m not a dick, I swear. Just, apparently, very misguided. I didn’t intend to be rude to you at the table read, I just generally like to keep my work and personal lives separate. That’s why I didn’t want to get coffee with you, not because of anything you did. I realized after I left that I may not have expressed that well.
The snake was my version of an olive branch, to make up for the table read. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was incredibly stupid; I realize that now. I was just trying to let you know that I have nothing against you. I thought maybe you’d even get a kick out of it. I hope you can forgive me and we can start over. I promise to be on my best behavior.
All the best and sorry again,
Grey
I reread the letter and am satisfied with it. And anyway, our break is almost over. I procure some tape from a passing crew member, fold the note, and post it to Aspen’s door before returning to set.
I see Aspen out of the corner of my eye a few minutes later while I’m reading over my lines. I keep my eyes down, not knowing if she read my letter yet. Luckily, I don’t have to wonder for long.
I feel a rush of hope as she approaches me. “I read your letter,” she confirms, her eyes softening slightly before she continues. “Thank you. It was nice.”
“No problem, I definitely owe you an apology. So does this mean we can start over?” I add, hopefully.
“I forgive you. But that doesn’t mean we can completely start over. Trust is something you build, and it's torn down by fake snakes.”
Not exactly what I was hoping for, but I’ll take it. “We can at least be civil, though, right?” I ask.
“I’m fine with being civil,” she replies. “So long as there aren’t any more snakes.”
I chuckle, relieved she can see at least some humor in the situation. “No more snakes, I promise.”