Page 31 of Rock Paper Scissors
“This is different.”
“Is it? The girl is barely out of school—”
“She’s in her twenties and she’s already won a Bafta—”
“You won a Bafta in your twenties, but it still didn’t get you what you wanted. Surely it’s a producer you need to back the project… or a studio.”
“I’ve got a much better chance with an actress like October attached. If she knocks on doors in LA they will open for her. Whereas with me, unless I get another big book to adapt soon, all the doors seem to be closing.” I felt bad then. It’s been tough for you this year. You’re still getting work, but not the kind you really want. I was about to change the subject, try to be a little kinder, but then you lashed out in self-defense. “It’s a shame you aren’t still as passionate about your career, then maybe you would understand.”
“That’s not fair,” I said, even though it was.
“Isn’t it? You haven’t had a decent pay rise from Battersea for years, but you still stay.”
“Because I love working there.”
“No, because you’re too scared to even consider working somewhere else.”
“We don’t all want to rule the world, some of us just want to make it a better place.”
The thought of you not being proud of mewas utterlydevastatinghurt. A lot. I know you think I could be doing more with my life, but it isn’t all my fault. When the person you love has too many bright ideas, they can completely eclipse yours. And I still do. Love you. I spent my ambition on your dreams instead of my own.
You slept in the spare room that night, but we’ve made up since. Just in time for this year’s anniversary.
You were awake before me this morning, which is practically unheard of, and unexpected given how late you were up rewriting a ten-year-old screenplay again last night. When you carried a tray of breakfast into our bedroom, I thought I must be dreaming. In all the years we have been together, you’ve never done that before. So I should have known something was wrong.
We ate dippy eggs, as I like to call them—soft-boiled is your preferred grown-up term—with toast. I was looking forward to spending the day together, so I couldn’t understand why you were up so early, or why you seemed to be so keen to take the dirty cups and plates back downstairs.
“We don’t need to rush, do we?” I asked.
Your face confessed before you did. “I’m so sorry, I need to go and see my agent. It really won’t take long—”
“But we agreed to spend the whole day together this year. I took annual leave.”
“And we will, it’s just for a couple of hours. I really thinkRock Paper Scissorsmight actually get made this time. I just want to talk to him, in person—you know it’s the only way I can tell what he really thinks about anything—while the project has momentum again. See if he agrees about the next steps and…”
I know you couldn’t see whatever face I pulled, but you must have read my body language.
“I know it’s our anniversary but I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
“We’ll still have dinner?” I said.
“It will be drinks o’clock by fiveP.M.at the latest. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done, and I got you this.”
It was a ticket for a matinee performance of a show I have wanted to see for months. It’s been sold out since it opened. The ticket was for today, so at least I’d have something fun to do while you were working. But it also meant that youknewI would need something to do. Alone. There was only one ticket. I gave you your anniversary present then. Five years is meant to be a wooden gift so I got you a ruler with an inscription:
FIVE YEARS MARRIED, WHO WOOD BELIEVE IT?
You smiled, held up two ties and asked me to choose one. I loathe them both to be honest, but pointed at the one with the birds. It seemed strange even at the time, given that you never normally dress up to see your agent.
“It’s not for me, it’s for you,” you said, reading my mind.
You wrapped the silk tie around my face to cover my eyes. Then you took me by the hand and led me downstairs.
“I can’t go outside in my nightie!” I whispered, when I heard you open the front door.
“Sure you can, you still look just as beautiful as the day we got married, and besides, it’s the only way to show you your real anniversary present.”
“I thought it was the theater ticket,” I said.
