Nick holds the door wide and I gather my things. If I don’t win tonight that’s okay. If I don’t ever act again then that’s okay, because I’m alive and free and no longer alone. I count myself lucky, even with all my flaws, with all my failings and sorrows and hopes and dreams. Whatever happens tonight, it’s going to be okay.

—

Snapshots of memories. Nick’s warmhand in mine leading me down the red carpet then setting me free. Microphones, questions, camera flashes, and umbrellas. Crowds of faces. The fizz of champagne and the pinch of sequins on skin. An auditorium of people I recognize but do not actually know, jokes and the sound of a thousand people’s laugher, the swell of music and then some words I can’t quite make out. Nick looks to me, his eyes alive with meaning, he stands and I find myself standing too.

A camera races up the aisle toward us and I lean into him, terrified, to whisper, “Did they say me, Nick?”

He laughs, his eyes full of love. “Yeah, yeah, they did, Mi.” He kisses my cheek. “Now get up there.”

The walk is long, a blinding tunnel of nerves and unbridled happiness. The warm imprint of Nick’s kiss still on my cheek.

And finally, I am standing before them all, and I am speaking and they are laughing and I know I will never forget this moment and yet I realize I am forgetting it even as it happens. I lift the heavy statue and it feels so real, just like I knew it would.

A photo shoot backstage. I pose with my prize, eyes aflame, then retrieve my phone from an assistant to get my own shot. There’s a message on screen. The code Californian. My blood freezes in my veins but I do not let my smile crack. I’m a good actor; I have a statue to prove it.

But as I’m led into the press interview room, I carefully read the message once more.