Christopher Beha - Arts & Entertainments - A Novel

Eddie nodded, but he gave her no other prompt. She would have to take charge of the scene.

“Are you here to see Melissa? She wasn’t in class today. She’s never in class, you know. She says it’s because you don’t want her to go, because you didn’t graduate and you’re afraid she’ll leave you if she does. I think it’s terrible what you do to her.”

A day before, he would have told this girl that she didn’t know what she was talking about, that he’d always encouraged Melissa. If she’d persisted, he would have told her to mind her fucking business. And he would have been on tape screaming at a well-meaning college kid because Melissa stood him up.

“You’re sure she wasn’t in class?” he asked instead, in a concerned voice. “She seemed so excited for it this morning.”

“I’m sure.” But the girl seemed doubtful now.

“Thank you so much for telling me.”

She stood restlessly, as though waiting for Eddie to dismiss her from the scene.

“If you see her,” he said, “tell her that I’m worried about her.”

Eddie turned away and took out his phone. He had to leave Melissa a message expressing concern. He did wonder, out of simple curiosity, where she’d gone. She was with Patrick, of course. Were they eating lunch at that diner? Were they at some impromptu memorial for Justine? He would find out soon enough. There was no point disappearing on him if she couldn’t make a scene out of it. She would tell him where she’d been, or else tell him some transparent lie. Either way, he would lose his temper and look bad. And that wouldn’t be the end of it. She’d come back to Eddie for a time. She had to, because leaving him immediately would spoil the drama. She’d drag out her decision so long as it remained interesting, until the whole world was clamoring for her to make a choice. By the time it was over, Melissa and Patrick could have their own show. He left a voicemail asking where she was. He tried to make his tone express only worry.

On the way back to the hotel, he began to develop a plan. To pull it off, he would need to improvise. He passed a luggage store on Broadway and walked in. The salesman inside recognized Eddie and offered him half price on everything. He was the first person in days to respond with real excitement to the cameras. It was as though Eddie had stepped off the set. Eddie picked two large suitcases, which he asked to have delivered to the Cue. Now he would need something to put in them. He hadn’t accumulated many possessions while living at the hotel, but he wanted the effect of carrying overstuffed bags out of the room. He went into another store and bought a pile of clothes, not bothering to try them on.

Back in the room, he packed everything except a few stray items, which he left on the bed beside the open bags. As he waited for Melissa, he played the next step out in his head. He imagined her possible reactions, and he considered the best way to respond to each one. He felt some of the old excitement he used to get before going onstage, back when he still thought he had some talent, when he expected to convince the audience.

The part he missed least about acting was waiting around. As an extra or a bit player, you sat for hours on set until the moment you were needed. You were expected to be ready whenever you were called into action. You quickly did your part and sat again. Friendships were built, and occasionally romances began, but mostly these long stretches practiced you in the ways of tedium. Stars might use the time for elaborate practical jokes or to sleep in their trailers, but neither of these options was open to someone as easily replaceable as Eddie had been.

Now he was the star, and his room at the hotel was nicer than any trailer, but the waiting itself felt the same in its mixture of anticipation and boredom. The only other person in the room was Hal, who almost never made conversation while holding the camera. That wasn’t so bad, perhaps, because it meant he wouldn’t ask Eddie about the suitcases. Three hours passed, and then a fourth. Eddie worried that Melissa wouldn’t come back after all. She might wait until morning, or return in the middle of the night, appearing to take great care not to wake him while making sure to do the opposite. He couldn’t wait until then. He was on the edge of giving up when he heard a key card in the door. He picked up the last of his things and worked them slowly into the bags, so that Melissa caught him zipping one of the suitcases as she came in.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Where have you been all day?” Eddie tried to make his voice express concern. “You didn’t go to class.”

“I was with my mother,” she said. “I’m a nineteen-year-old girl. I like to see my mom sometimes.”

Eddie thought she might be drunk, and this seemed to work in his favor.

“Was Patrick there?”

Melissa tried to look surprised by the question.

“How did you know?”

“I just guessed,” he said softly.

He could tell she’d expected anger from him. She’d been looking forward to the blowout to come. Now she had to recalibrate.

“It’s been a weird day,” she said. “For some reason I needed to see him again.”

“I understand.”

He left the bag half closed and crossed the room to her.

“You’re not mad?” she said.

“I was mad at first. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I know Justine’s death hit us all pretty hard. When a tragedy happens, you learn things about yourself. You wanted to be with the person who matters most to you. And I’m not that person.”

“Don’t take it that way, Eddie.”

“This day has put things into perspective for me, too,” he continued. “We both knew this couldn’t last. I’m too old for you. You don’t really want to be with me.”

“That’s not true,” Melissa said. “What are you doing?”

She inflected the question as if she meant it to pierce through the veil of their narrative and reach Eddie directly. She wanted him to know he was making a mistake.

“I’m trying to be honest,” Eddie said. “With myself as much as with you. We should have tried that a long time ago.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” she said. “I went to see Patrick to tell him we weren’t getting back together. I’m a little mixed up right now, but I told you I’d stick it out, and that’s what I plan to do.”

“You don’t need to say that. You don’t owe me anything. Just follow your heart.”

“My heart wants to be with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said. “Ever since I heard the news about Justine, my wife and kids are all I can think about. It was wrong for us to do this. I realize that now. We just lost ourselves for a while. I can’t undo all the hurt I’ve caused, but I’m going to try to make things right. You belong with someone your own age, and I belong with my wife.”

Eddie felt the tears running down his cheeks. He tasted the hint of salt on his lips, and he had to hold back a smile. He was crying on command. He turned from Melissa and finished zipping his bag.

“Is this really it?” she asked.

“I love you,” Eddie said. “I want you to know that. You’ve got a long, wonderful life ahead of you. I hope you’ll think of me sometimes and smile.”

He worried he was overdoing it. But it wasn’t really possible to overdo these things. He put an arm around Melissa and he kissed her forehead in way that he hoped would appear fatherly.

“Tell Patrick I’m sorry,” he said. Then he picked up his bags and walked out of the room.

EDDIE FELT A PIERCING sense of solitude as he left the hotel. He didn’t regret what he’d done. He wasn’t even sad, exactly— just inexplicably lonely. Had he become so attached to Melissa that the idea of losing her could have such an immediate effect? The audience waiting outside looked disappointed by his appearance, as though they recognized this change in him right away. He headed up the block untouched until he got to the corner, where he turned to make sure Hal had made it safely through the crowd. But Hal wasn’t there. Eddie wasn’t being filmed.