Take Two
THIRTY-ONE
“Why is that?” Wlad asked.
“I just never feel like I belong at these award shows. Even though I put the work in.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Wlad answered. “What would be worse is if you walked in feeling like no one else deserved to win but you. You’re being humble.”
I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath, feeling a sense of ease radiate through my whole body.
Wlad and I were officially back together and talking on Skype almost every day.
He was always a comfort to me, and I needed that, especially after the Golden Globes.
I hadn’t taken home the award in my category—Maggie Smith had, for her role on Downton Abbey—but that wasn’t the issue.
Maggie more than deserved to win. I’d been a nervous wreck at the Globes because I was terrified that if I won, I’d get onstage and forget all the people I was supposed to thank.
Forget stage fright. This was more like stage heart failure.
“When you have a break from filming, why don’t you fly to Germany?” Wlad asked, changing the subject. “We can take a vacation after my training.”
“I’d love that, Wlad,” I said. “The sooner the better.”
Wlad and I fell back into our familiar, two-continent rhythm. A trip to Germany led to a trip to Venice, then a cruise in the Adriatic, with stops in Croatia. Nothing was off-limits for Wlad, especially when it came to me. If I was happy, Wlad was, too.
One day in the summer of 2013, while I was on hiatus from Nashville, and had traveled to Croatia to meet up with Wlad, he walked up to me looking as happy as he’d been doing tricks at Magic Castle.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, motioning with his hand for me to follow him.
“You’re scaring me,” I answered.
Wlad approached me and scooped me up in his arms. “Oh, be quiet. You’re going to love it.”
Wlad carried me outside and toward the shore until I started squirming so much he had to put me down. As we got close to where boats were docked, he put both of his hands over my eyes, then held on to me to ensure I couldn’t escape.
“You can’t look yet,” he said. Then I felt his hands moving away from my eyes. “Okay, now! This is our vacation!”
I opened my eyes and started screaming—but it was in terror, not surprise.
Sitting about fifty feet out in the Adriatic Sea wasn’t a yacht or a grand, beautiful sailboat that was going to take us on a sunset cruise.
Instead, there before us was a freaking pirate ship.
It had three masts with multiple sails—one of which had a skull and crossbones on it—a wide open deck, and porthole windows in the sides.
There was the requisite plank, a hideous carved figurehead of God knows what on the front, and wood everywhere.
I practically got a splinter in my eyeball looking at it.
I had no idea what possessed Wlad to rent a pirate ship, but the last thing I wanted to do was be Jack Sparrow’s wench for a week.
“You like it?” Wlad asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, thank you so much, honey. It’s great. I never thought I’d head out to sea on a really old pirate ship that people probably died on.”
Wlad laughed, and I softened up a bit, remembering that for him, laughter was always an honest expression of joy and something he never faked. “I love you because you tell me the truth, monkey,” he said. “Now let’s get on this boat and sail.”
And sail we did. Out on the high seas, the captain and her first mate.
“You know I had a parrot growing up,” I said to Wlad after a few hours of sailing.
“You did?”
“Oh, I did. And it talked in full sentences. Once it heard my parents talking shit about one of our neighbors, and when the neighbor came over, the parrot said, ‘George is an asshole. George is an asshole.’”
Wlad burst out laughing, and I did, too.
When the pirate ship docked later that night, I lounged on the deck and began to dream about what a life with Wlad might be like.
We were still unsure how to navigate two continents and two demanding careers, but it didn’t matter when we were together.
He was stoic, and I was his tiny terror.
I liked to talk, and he was there to comfort me.
He was the yin to my yang, two puzzle pieces that looked different but fit right together.
I made life come alive for Wlad, and he made me feel secure.
With Wlad, I was entirely at home, and I was never, ever lonely.
At least that’s what I told myself.
I looked over at Wlad, who was seated comfortably on a deck chair, staring into his phone. There he goes again with that phone, I thought. He is always on his phone. I tossed a grape at him to get his attention, and when it bounced off his chest, he scowled.
“Monkey, you know I have to take care of business.”
“Fair enough,” I answered. “I know this pirate ship doesn’t pay for itself. But I miss you.”
Within five minutes, he was on a call, speaking Russian and going over ideas and plans and details I’d never know about.
I might have known Wlad’s personality inside and out, but in so many ways, his world was a mystery to me.
Suddenly, that familiar feeling of loneliness and exclusion crept back in, like I was in middle school or at the Golden Globes. It didn’t feel good.
We eventually made our way back to Hamburg, leaving the pirate ship docked at its port.
Vitali and Natalia were there with their kids, and I wasn’t just happy to see them, I was also relieved.
It had been months since I’d seen Natalia, and I’d thought about her often.
I also didn’t know anyone in Hamburg, and I thought she and I had a real chance to become friends.
At dinner one night, I sat silently, my second drink in front of me.
Tipsy and irritated with Wlad for leaving me out of the conversation, I started to regret the fact that I’d even come on this trip.
People have been sending me movie scripts for months, I thought.
But I put my everything on hold to be here with Wlad.
I knew that if I signed on to films between seasons of Nashville, I could take my career by the horns and steer it in a different direction—in any direction.
I could become someone other than Juliette Barnes. Producers wanted me, and so did fans.
Instead, I’d chosen Wlad and a pirate ship.
I looked over at Natalia, and she seemed as left out as I felt.
I sipped my drink and listened to the men speaking Russian, and I decided to interrupt them with a joke.
They laughed, but not like Wlad laughed, in that genuine, joyful way.
So, I went back to my drink. Drinking eased the tension, quieted my nerves, and made the time pass more quickly.
Natalia turned to me. “After this dinner is over, let’s go upstairs, away from these men.”
Thank God, I thought.
An hour later, Natalia and I walked upstairs to the third floor, where Natalia and Vitali had a private apartment. Natalia opened a cabinet and took out a bottle.
“It’s whiskey,” she said.
She poured me a glass, followed by her own, then walked to the couch to sit next to me.
Once again, I took in how gorgeous she was.
Some Ukrainian men have a hardness to their faces, but the women are contoured, soft, and stunning.
Natalia’s defining features were her delicate nose, high cheekbones, and full lips, and her intense, sparkling eyes made it clear how powerful her spirit was.
She was confident, talented woman, and I felt so grateful to be with her.
Natalia placed the bottle of whiskey on the table in front of us, and within about three seconds, we were laughing.
“What is it with those men?” I asked. “Like, do they just expect us not to talk? In my family, the women love to speak their minds.”
“Never mind the men,” she answered, smiling and pouring me another small glass of whiskey. “This is our time.”
I raised my glass. “Here’s to us. See? Women can toast, too.”
We clinked glasses, and Natalia inched closer to me.
“I like you,” Natalia said. “I like that you speak your mind.”
“Sometimes too much,” I answered.
Natalia smiled, and then we nestled back into the couch cushions, feeling the warmth of real connection.