She shook her head. “Ocean. There’s so much undiscovered, so many questions, and it’s right here.”
“The ocean is scary and full of sea monsters, though,” I countered.
“And space could be too!” She looked at me, the conversation bringing back some ease and comfort.
“There’s no evidence of that. There is, however, lots of evidence of creepy things in the ocean.” I felt confident in my reasoning, but Connie just shook her head.
“Exactly.”
11 – Connie – Then
Eric and I spent the whole day together. After Chris’s house, we went back to the festival and attended some workshops. We ate lunch with Chris and Lilli, both very cuddly in the booth across from us at the café. We discussed the art posted in the café as an exhibit, part of the festival.
Eventually, Chris and Lilli went to look at a photography exhibit and lecture on auditioning, and Eric and I ended up back in the hotel lobby, in our same chairs as the other night. It was starting to feel like our spot already. He was showing me fan made edits online, trying to convince me to rewatch the entire Lord of the Rings franchise.
“Why do you like it so much?” I asked him, not able to tell the difference between the movies in each trilogy. They were starting to blend together for me, probably because I was distracted by the childlike joy in his eyes.
“I got really into Lord of the Rings because of my dad,” he confided in me. “He got sick when I was in my junior year of high school.”
I wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but I felt like I didn’t know how to react to his vulnerability.
“Besides,” he said with a small smile, “Aragorn is the peak of masculinity.” He wanted to alleviate the emotional heaviness and I obliged, taking the chance to spar.
“I don’t know—can anyone really be compared to Orlando Bloom?”
“Aragorn is the king!” Eric parried, and I had to suppress a smile. “He is gentle, good, kind, formidable, strong, reliable, and let’s be honest, the emotional maturity he has is phenomenal.” He paused and looked up another video. “Although, that could be because of his elven heritage and him being the age of a grandpa with a young body.”
“Ah, yes, another unrealistic expectation for men,” I agreed. “You know, you’re trying really hard to convince me here, Eric. Did you write some self-insert fanfiction or something?” His mouth snapped shut, and a pink flush danced across his cheekbones. “Holy shit, you did.”
“I did not write self-insert fanfiction,” he said, as if he was backpedaling. “There was just that one short film…”
“Oh my God.” I pushed his shoulder and pointed ecstatically to his phone. “Show me, show me now. I need this.”
“No, you don’t.” His attempt at pushing aside my focus was weak, though, and he knew I wouldn’t back down. There was no containing the grin on my face as Eric signaled defeat and pulled up a video.
“I know the language is too flowery and the costumes are garbage, but I was seventeen when I made this, and it was my first film project,” Eric said, apologizing for his art before letting me even consume it.
I actually thought it was pretty good.
The camera panned to an older man, his cane in one hand, a wizard staff in the other.
“That’s my dad,” Eric said quietly. “He refused to use a walker because he said Gandalf wouldn’t. He passed not long after this.”
“I’m so sorry.” Even though it was an automatic reaction, I meant it. “I can’t imagine.”
“Thanks.”
Silence filled the space between us as the video faded to white, like the air itself had become delicate.
“It’s a little cringe overall,” Eric said, once again easing the tension so effortlessly.
“I think it’s really sweet. This is a precious thing to have.” I wanted to keep all embarrassment from him so he may never feel shame with me, and part of me wanted to tell him that my heart is a home with a room ready for him to move into. I wanted to see the baby pictures and home videos, wanted him to trust me with the skeletons in his closet, wanted him to know he could bring down the shoebox filled with memories and forgotten dreams, that maybe those dreams could still come true.
I don’t utter a single word of it, though. I just penned it into a new song.
12 – Connie – Now
Backstage is surreal. The fact that we are backstage at a sold-out stadium for one of the biggest tours of all time… and that my songs are going to be the opening act? Yeah, surreal is the only word for it.
