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There is a very long pause. I hear paper shuffling, curses, and the television in the background.
“Well,” she starts, “Do you want the good or bad news first?” Of course, I say the good news. I need to know what people thought about the film. What kind of talk is it generating?
“Good news is, the premiere was a humongous hit. You have offers flooding in from every director and wannabe filmmaker in Hollywood.” I let out a breath I barely realized I was holding.
I can’t believe I did it. I allow myself a bit of elation before getting hit with the bad news.
“The bad news is, they think you're a risk based on all the publicity you have received since your engagement's announcement. They don’t want any of this drama. So, you have a choice to make.”
I hang up on my representative without answering her. I can’t handle her opinion at the moment. I can’t make choices or decisions right now. My brain is on fire. My phone rings. I send her to voicemail. It keeps ringing, so I put it on do not disturb, promising to call her when I have sorted everything out.
I feel so foolish. Then, I have a sudden thought that makes everything worse. My parents have probably seen this. I hope Scott doesn't show this to them if they haven’t. He loves my drama. That’s probably because, growing up, I was more popular than he was. I was more sociable, involved in school, and made friends quickly. He was a jock and a bully. He was always trying to sabotage things for me. It seems that in adulthood, though, I can do that all by myself.
I work out, shower, and think. And think. And think. I’m trudging through quicksand as I move through my morning routine.
I put the argument in perspective. Granted, I gave the wrong emotion control. I should have gone with excitement about the baby. However, in my defense, this was not a normal situation for me, so I will cut myself some slack. The question now is, how do I feel about having a baby? I feel many things all at once. Elation, anxiety, stress, fear, excitement, confusion, and fear. Fear is the main thread of feeling coursing through me right now. My career is important to me. How does being a filmmaker coincide with fatherhood? Can I do both? Even though I have been a filmmaker for seven years, I’m still considered a newbie. My first real hit was my premiere. This is when things take off, career-wise.
My most significant and crucial question is Erica. I care for her quite a bit. I would do anything for her. She is my bestie, my partner in crime. But can we raise a baby together? What does that look like with her in San Francisco and me in Los Angeles?
I check my phone. I really should call my representative back. She left two voicemails. The last one was very angry-sounding.
“Ah, so you're gracing me with a callback. How chivalrous of you. Next time you hang up on me, life will get much harder for you than it already is.”
“I get it. So, what are my choices?”
“Well, you only have one now. As I see it, you need to patch things up with Erica. And don’t tell me you don’t know how. Use your brain and your heart.”
“What does my heart have to do with this?” Confusion is threaded through my voice.
“Ok. You can pretend that your fake engagement doesn’t mean anything to you. I, however, can see what you seem blind to. You have real feelings for Erica. You are more than you are letting on, and before you say I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll tell you what I told her. I can see from the outside what no one on the inside can see. I’m more objective because I’m not so close to the situation. So, your only choice is to go and make up before you lose the best thing that has happened to you.”
I’m not a big fan of being scolded by my PR rep, and so I hang up again, against her warning. What the hell does she know, anyway? She observes people, so what? I’m physically in my own body and would see if I was in love with Erica. Come on.
Would I, though? Erica and I have been friends since birth. We waddled around in diapers together. Our parents gave us baths together when we were toddlers. We helped each other through middle school peer pressure. In high school, we talked about our crushes and girlfriends and boyfriends. We have always been friends. So, was I in love with her? What would that look like?
I contemplate my feelings, asking myself what I want in a life partner. I want someone to confide in, tell my secrets to, and share experiences with. Someone I enjoy being around, someone I can trust and communicate openly with. Someone like…I started to feel a bit uncomfortable. I begin to squirm around like I’m trying to escape something. What is happening to me? I’m sweaty and clammy. I pick up my phone and go to the photo album. I find my folder with all my pics of Erica. There is at least a decade’s worth of pictures here. I start scrolling through them — graduation, her sweet sixteen, a middle school play, prom. So many memories come flooding in. With those, come feelings, feelings I remember having back then and am realizing I have now. Oh crap. I stop squirming and sit with the emotions. All of them. I call my dad.
“Hey, son. How was the premiere? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you till after the weekend. It sounded like you had something special planned.”
“I did, but it didn’t go as planned.” I take a deep breath. “Dad, when Erica and I were growing up, did you or Mom see Erica and me as just friends or something more?”
My heart skips a beat.
“Son, you and Erica have an extraordinary bond. Your mother and I always thought that would grow into something more. It came later than we expected, but it happened. You’re engaged, and by what we saw in Orlando, so happy together. Why do you ask?”
I can’t tell him the truth. “No reason. We were just talking about the good old days. Thanks, Dad.” I hang up.
It seems everyone else saw what we couldn’t, whatIcouldn’t. Erica’s admission has thrown me off balance. How did I miss that she had feelings for me?
I run my fingers through my hair, puzzled by everything. My rep knows, and my parents always knew that we belonged together. I would do anything for Erica. Does that include loving her too?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Erica
Mydadopensthedoor, and I run into his arms. I’m a mess. Snot drips from my nose, and my makeup runs, smearing his shirt.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” He pulls away and takes a good look at me.
