Chapter 27
I WAS TRYING NOT TO WATCH RORY ON THE SMALL TV BEHIND Ben’s head, but it’s hard to turn away when you’re watching the dreams of someone you used to know coming true.
Ben and I were at Lifers, drinking wine and having appetizers.
Ben was flipping through a script, memorizing lines for an audition the next day, and Rory was playing at Pebble Beach. Rory was in California.
The camera kept coming back to him. He adjusted his black Titleist hat as he stood next to his caddie and laughed.
He was waiting for the other guy he was playing with to tee off, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
The feeling that had overcome me was almost indescribable.
I was so happy for him. I was so proud of him.
And at the same time, I was utterly and totally gutted that I was missing it.
I wasn’t there. For a large part of my life, I had known every thought that crossed Rory’s mind.
And I didn’t know him anymore. A wave of grief rolled through me as I watched him laugh.
I didn’t know what made him laugh anymore. It used to be me.
I looked around Lifers, a bar I loved, sitting next to the person I loved, and even though neither my bar nor my person had changed in the four years I had been living in New York, there was something about it all that felt very different.
It all felt bigger. Or I felt smaller. I wasn’t sure which.
And as I looked up at the TV, watching Rory golf, living out his dreams, I knew I didn’t fit inside New York anymore.
I didn’t fit inside my body anymore. I didn’t fit inside my life anymore.
The smell of bacon stung my nostrils the next morning.
The weekend breakfast sandwich was a gesture that Ben followed through with religiously.
I had loved that smell. That morning, I hated it.
I looked in the mirror, and I could have sworn I saw my soul pushing out of my body.
I looked out the window, and an echo of myself in the windows of the building across the street floated away from the city that I loved toward a city I had only ever dreamed of.
To me, Los Angeles was a city where black sheep found their herd, where outcasts found their place.
It was a city where chasing dragons wasn’t silly; it was celebrated.
It was a mix of cultures and realities, a collision of people coming together, with many of them sharing the same purpose.
It was a blue-collar city with big dreams and a grounding heartbeat that only Los Angelenos could understand, and I wanted to understand it, too.
It was a city that didn’t just call to me. It screamed.
“I’m going to LA, Ben.” I couldn’t even hear myself speak. I was in a daze.
“What?” Ben put his spatula down. “What are you talking about?” He turned off the small electric element and turned to face me.
“If I don’t do it right now, I never will.” I sat at the edge of the bed. My arms were stiff, and my hands were against my knees. My soul had already left. I saw it out the window.
Ben pressed his fingers against the side of his head, confused. “Wait. What’s happening right now?” He joined me on the bed and grabbed my hand. “This isn’t the plan.”
“What is the plan?” Tears sprang from my eyes. “We said we’d go; we haven’t gone. What’s the plan? What am I doing? I don’t know what I’m doing.” I shook my head, and Ben wiped my tears.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. You were just in a play—”
“It was a part that my old teacher handed to me. I’m not an actor, Ben. It didn’t work out for me. And that’s okay. I’m okay with that.” I was not okay with that.
“Yes, you are. I was there every night. You were amazing—”
“Please don’t. You were there every night because you love me, not because I’m winning any awards or making any money in the shitass fifty-seat black box theater.
I need to pivot, and I need to do it now.
” I grabbed Ben’s hand from my face and brought it down to my lap.
“I don’t get anything out of acting when I go on auditions anymore, and that’s all I do.
I don’t get the parts. I have seen behind the curtain.
I work in casting. I know how this works.
I get more out of writing than I ever did out of acting. ”
“So pivot. I support that. But you can write from anywhere.” Ben shook his head, determined to fight me on it, but I wasn’t going to listen.
“What about your job? Sal’s asked you to partner with him.
You went from under-the-table wrangler to associate to full-blown casting director.
There’s huge growth there. And he’s sponsoring your visa. How are you going to work in LA?”
I looked at Ben and bit my lip.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, answering his own question. “Have you already talked to him about moving to the LA office?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that without talking to you first,” I answered honestly. “But it is something he mentioned a while ago, so it’s always been in the back of my head.”
“I’m on hold for HBO. And we’re starting to film the show next month. The timing . . .” Ben ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you breaking up with me?” He pushed his face into his hands.
I shook my head. “Of course not.” Another tear slipped down my cheek.
“I literally can’t leave for you right now.” I could hear a sob escape through Ben’s words.
“And I can’t stay for you anymore. Between my writing and my job .
. . Maybe I can turn it all into something.
I could shift into development. There are more companies out there.
There’s more opportunity out there. For you, too, you know.
More than half of your auditions are taped and sent to LA. This would work,” I insisted.
Ben’s energy dropped, and he slumped. “I’m not ready.”
“I need to try, Ben. I have to. And if I’m really going to try to become a writer or a producer or . . . I don’t know . . . I need to get in the room, and the best shot I can give myself is in LA.”
A voice appeared in my mind and rocked through my heart. It was saying something I hadn’t thought about in years. Something that finally made total and complete sense to me.
“I’m a bird,” I said, choking back tears. “I feel like I’m spending my life watching everyone else fly, and I can’t get off the ground. I need to try.”
Ben gasped, struggling for air. “Fuck.” He wiped at his face, flicking away his falling tears. “You’re breaking up with me, Ellie.”
“I’m not. No, I’m not,” I insisted. “I love you.”
“You have a life here. You have friends here. You have me.”
“I know. But I don’t think I have me here anymore.
” I pressed my hands over my eyes and could feel my weeping start to bubble.
“I’ve come this far, and I owe it to myself.
I’m so proud of you, Ben. You deserve it all.
You deserve the world. Now I want to see who I can be, too.
I’ve stayed here for you for so long. It’s your turn, Ben.
Come with me, please.” I cried, knowing he wouldn’t.
“I can’t. Stay with me. Please . . .” Ben whispered, knowing I wouldn’t.
There was something untamed howling inside of me, screaming that I wasn’t finished; I wasn’t there yet. If it wasn’t Vancouver, and it wasn’t New York, then it had to be LA. I had believed it to be true when I was a kid. It had to be true. It had to be.
“I can’t . . .”
Ben and I spent the next two weeks loving each other, crying together, making false promises, and breaking each other’s hearts. We said we would make it work long distance until we could be together again. And at the airport, we both knew deep down that it wasn’t true.
Zoe came with me, and just as I had with New York, I packed my whole life into two suitcases.
As the plane lifted off from JFK, heading toward LAX, I felt a thunderous clap of fear, grief, and an overwhelming amount of intense regret.
A small voice poked through the noise that muddied my mind.
I wasn’t sure what prompted the voice to rise from my memory, but there it was, as clear as day: She doesn’t belong in the sun.