Page 87 of Even After This
We both breathe hard, staring. At this point, I’m not sure whose life we’re discussing.
The back of Harlan’s hand grazes my cheek. “You aren’t irrelevant, Meredith.”
Sighing, I say, “What else am I going to do?”
I peek through the kaleidoscope of choices and freeze at the infinite colors. My options are unlimited. Am I supposed to merely exist? Do I get to have more dreams? Am I designed for something specific in this life, or will I play out the rest of my days swimming in grief?
Maybe Harlan’s right. Maybe my stickers are more than far-fetched ideas. Or maybe this isn’t about stickers at all.
“You’ll figure it out.” Harlan’s deep voice resonates in my earas he wraps his strong arms around my shoulders, engulfing me in comfort.
I push back enough so I can study him. Exhaustion lines his brown eyes. “What about you?”
He gives me a squeeze and releases his hold. “Got a call from Penelope yesterday.”
I scrunch up my face. “She always work on Thanksgiving?”
“I don’t think she grasps the meaning of the word ‘rest.’” He scoffs. “There’s a reason her most recent contract with me contains a required vacation clause.”
Something in me warms at the thought of her required vacation clause and Harlan taking care of his people.
“There’s talk of future movie promotions.” He bends his head to look at his phone and scrolls through it. “Most of what I do is contracted, but a few things are negotiated along the way. I prefer to stay out of the spotlight more than a lot of actors. But Penelope mentioned that the way the Oscars are lining up, they’re looking at using a couple of us to announce an award.”
As he takes a breath, he turns the screen to me. Front and center on Harlan’s phone is the official letterhead of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
I start giggling. “I’m sorry.” Clearing my throat, I place a fist over my mouth. “Please continue.”
“What’s so funny?” His lips quirk.
“Look, I know it’s your job. And I understand”—my explanation is broken with snickers—“you’re a practical and down-to-earth famous person. But it’s a little bizarre to listen to you talk about maybe attending the Academy Awards. I have zero ability to act like this is normal.”
He hits me with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and nods slowly. While he’s staring at me, his smile disappears and the mood in the room shifts.
“If I had a typical life, I would want to show you off.” He shakes his head. “But my world isn’t going to protect you.”
Gazing at my feet, I consider the kind of woman Harlan needs. I hate being a woman someone has to shield.
“Meredith.” The call of my name is a gentle demand. “I would be proud with you on my arm at the Oscars.” He pauses, then adds with amusement in his voice, “Though we might need some famous people training. Pitching a script to Steven Spielberg about conflict in space may not be your best move.”
My only response is to roll my eyes at the ceiling.
“I want to take you to an Oscar ceremony. But, Meredith, God forbid a reporter makes your personal story part of his byline. It’s not worth it to me.” He shrugs. “So I told Penelope to send Charlie and Spencer.”
Shame is sticky and will not release me from its grasp. Isn’t enduring my astronomical loss enough? How is it I’m a prisoner of it years later?
My breathing increases. I benched myself from my own life to deal with grief, but I can’t ask anyone else to stand on the sidelines with me.
“We’re not talking about some appearance at the local Elks Lodge, Harlan. This is the Oscars. You can’t not go.” I grab his cell and shake it at him. “Call Penelope. Fix it. You have to go. You have to go without me.”
In one swift movement, he removes the phone and grasps my hand. “It’s better this way. Besides, I don’t want to be there without you.”
Shaking my head, I step back. “This is a little hard to take in. I don’t think I can let you skip this because of me.”
He moves a hand over the second-day growth on his face, then slides it to grip the back of his neck. “What if that’s not the only reason?”
His blank expression gives me nothing, so I wait in silence.
“Charlie Boyd will take my place. The guy you met at the Broadmoor? He’s hungry. He’s keeping his head down and doing the work. And I want to see what this kind of experience will dofor him.” He drops his hand. “I think being at the awards show could be a significant catalyst for him.”
