“Well, you’re doing a terrible job,” she retorted, making me laugh. “Just … think about it, will you? I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you Sunday. Love you.”
“You, too.”
I ignored the creak of my spine as I flung myself onto the couch and toed off my shoes. Then I considered Sarah’s point. It was true I hadn’t dated anyone serious in a long time, but it wasn’t because I ultimately didn’t want to get serious with someone; I just couldn’t see it working right now.
I was extremely busy with the show, especially now that filming was about to begin. Shooting was incredibly unpredictable. We mostly had nights and weekends to ourselves, but it depended on the script and the schedule. One disorganized day could have you filming into the next, and other times we would shoot three episodes back-to-back because a particular guest star was only available for those exact dates, and we needed to get as many scenes filmed with them as possible, meaning the rest of the episodes were filmed out of sequence or weeks later.
It was hard to maintain a relationship when you couldn’t make plans too far in advance or had to cancel last minute. It was why most actors dated in-house. They understood the chaotic hours and hectic responsibilities. That you could be in the middle of a romantic dinner, but if your publicist called out of the blue, you damn well better pick up, unless you wanted whatever media shit storm to railroad you without having a game plan.
But, if I was going to be really honest with myself, and I did prefer to be, I was lonely. Sex was great, and I could always find someone to satisfy me, but I wondered what it might be like to see someone for more than one night. To wake up next to them, spend a lazy day together, or come home to them after filming.
The whole ‘one-night stand’ dance was getting a little old. What I wouldn’t, couldn’t, admit to Sarah was that she was right. I did want a relationship. I wanted someone to come home to, someone to talk to, someone who made me laugh, supported me, and built me up when I felt like an imposter. I wanted to have someone steady and familiar to anchor me when the press was driving me crazy, someone down to earth but interesting, someone with their own life but who wanted me as much as I wanted them.
I thought of my dad and the life he’d built for my mom and us, and I wanted that for myself. I wanted to be the kind of man he was.
But until I could offer any kind of stability, what sort of partner could I really be? What sort of future could I offer someone?
I sighed, scrubbing at my dry eyes. Where the hell was I going to meet a gorgeous, smart, interesting woman when I spent all my time between sets? And even if that woman existed, would she really want to put up with all of this?
And was I ready for it if I met her?
5
Audrey
One year.
A whole 365 days since I’d been officially divorced. It almost felt like yesterday that Brad and I had gotten together, and yet I couldn’t be further away from the person I’d been then.
We’d met in college. It had been my first time out of my parent’s grasp, though even from a distance, they had found ways to hound me over poor grades or my choice to have a life outside of school.
Meeting Brad had been a breath of fresh air. He’d been confident and enthusiastic. I’d enjoyed being attractive to someone who seemed as interested in knowing my mind as they were my body. The sex was decent, too. Much better than the handful of encounters I’d had up to that point.
Although he was always far more ambitious than I ever was, it had been a nice change from my parents’ overbearing pressure always to do better. Be better.
Hindsight was a real bastard. Looking back, I saw it for what it was, a sideways move from my parents’ hovering judgment to the guilt trips and control of my husband.
The weight that lifted the day the divorce was official was beyond what I could describe. The best I could manage was some clichéd metaphor about light and dark, and there was probably a Katy Perry song about it, but mostly I just felt free.
For the first time in ten years, I had no one but myself to please, and so I did just that. Tiff helped me find a new apartment, and soon after, David had come up with the money to get his start-up off the ground, allowing us both to leave Empire Distributions behind for something more passionate and personal.
I’d just gotten myself comfortable on the couch when Tiff messaged me.
Tiff: Where are you?
I contemplated calling her back before I remembered she was working.
Me: At home, why?
It was a Tuesday night; where else did she think I’d be?
Tiff: You know why. Today is D-Day.
Meaning, divorce day.
Me: I know what today is. I just don’t want to make a big deal of it.
Her response came seconds later.
