12
For What It’s Worth
Olive collected her coffee from the barista with a nod and an attempt at a smile, but the weight of her heart was dragging down the corners of her lips. She wrapped her cardigan more tightly around her as she stepped out into the crisp morning air,enjoying the peace and quiet of the usually bustling streets of London’s Soho. Today is going to be a good day.It’ll all be fine, she repeated in her head, not only to convince herself it was true, but also to push away any other unwanted thoughts that had a habit of clouding her mind.It’s a new day and an important one so yougottabe on top form.Olive stepped off the curb and as the stagedoor of the Southern Cross theatre came into sight she noticed Oscar walking up from front of house and Tamara walking up to stage door from the adjacent side. Olive’s steps slowed, and she prayed Oscar wouldn’t see her. Her plan had been to put her stage make-up on inside the theatre, ready for the dress rehearsal, and she knew her face would currently look blotchy and swollen from crying the nightbefore.
But Oscar glanced up and caught her eye and it took all the strength Olive could muster not to smile at him. Not even a little. Oscar stopped on the pavement, tried giving her a little wave and stepped towards the kerb, about to cross the road towards her, but Olive quickly took her phone out of her pocket and held it to her ear, averting her gaze. No one was on the other end ofthe telephone, and she made little effort to make it look like she was talking to someone, but she just needed something, anything to avoid a conversation with him. A conversation she knew would eventually have to be had but just not now. Just. Not. Now.
Oscar remained on the kerb and with a pain in his chest, turned back towards the stage door where Tamara was waiting for him dressed ina pink hairy coat and sunglasses (even though it was overcast and was probably going to rain at any moment), holding back her neatly straightened hair with one hand to scroll through her phone with the other.
‘Oh hi, Oscar!’ Tamara said as she threw her arms around him before he’d even registered who it was underneath such a flamboyant coat. The smell of her perfume, the one he’d not beenable to get out of his clothes since their night in the pub, made his stomach turn and served as a sharp reminder that the arms encasing him belonged to Tamara Drake… the woman he had kissed instead of Olive.
‘Tamara,’ he said, firmly removing himself from her embrace. Tamara moved in to kiss him square on the mouth and from across the road Olive’s heart lurched; she had to stop herselfrunning over to try and intervene. ‘Tamara!’ Oscar raised his voice but quickly composed himself. ‘I think we need to talk.’
‘What’s there to talk about?’ She flipped her hair back into place and tried to smile but Oscar could tell it was forced, as though she was fighting off the embarrassment of his rejection.
‘Look, I’m sorry. I seem to only ever be apologising to everyone thesedays, and I know it’s because I just keep making stupid mistakes but… I’m sorry,’ Oscar said, struggling to get his words out.
‘For what?’ Tamara replied snippily.
‘For… leading you on? If you felt led on? I don’t know. But that kiss on Saturday night should never have happened. I’ve got a thing going on with someone else and although that’s still kind of casual, and not official…we’re still… a “thing”.’
‘A… “thing”?’
‘Yes, and I don’t want to hurt her. I really like her.’
‘You likeme,’ Tamara said, trying to interlink her fingers with Oscar’s, but he shook his hand from her grasp and stepped away from her.
‘Of course, I do, but Ilikelike her.’ He shrugged.
‘Likelike. Are you twelve?’ Tamara snapped, her words now even more clipped.
‘You know what I mean, Tamara. I fancy her. I want to spend my time with her. I want to kiss her.’
‘You can kiss herandme,’ she laughed, but it sounded too high-pitched and sent a shiver down Oscar’s spine.
‘No, I can’t.’ Oscar tried to step around her and into the safety of the theatre as he noticed a couple of people on the street turn their attention towards them, thefaint hint of recognition in their eyes.
‘Why not? Becauseshesays so?’ Tamara hissed.
‘Yes!’ he laughed. ‘Well, actually, no. Because I say so.Wesay so. If kissing you or anyone else hurts her, then I don’t want to do that. How she feels matters more to me.’
‘Oh, right, so if you saw her kissing someone else you’d be furious, would you?’ Tamara scoffed. The thought hadn’tyet occurred to Oscar what his reaction would have been had the roles from the other night been reversed.
Oscar thought about how the excuse of being intoxicated would have meant nothing to him either, had Olive been the one to have drunk far too much and locked lips with another cast member. He knew the image of her kissing someone else would haunt him for longer than he cared to guessand how difficult he would find it looking at her the same way again. Finally, Oscar felt the sting of humiliation at the idea of coming back into work, and facing an entire cast of people who would all know exactly what had happened, and wondering whether they were all discussing what it was about him that had made Olive find comfort in another man’s arms. ‘Actually, yes I would,’ he said, feelinghis eyes inexplicably start to brim. ‘I think it’d break my heart.’
Tamara pulled down her sunglasses to check if she was seeing things or whether Oscar Bright really was getting emotional.
‘Ugh, whatever.’ Tamara pushed her sunglasses back up her nose and turned into stage door with a toss of her hair. Oscar took a deep breath to recover his emotions and took out his phone to checkthe time. He had a couple of minutes before he needed to be inside, so he could afford to give Tamara a little bit of distance before he followed her. Oscar turned back towards the way he’d come, thinking maybe he could quickly grab a coffee, when he realised someone was now standing close behind him.
‘Olive. Hi.’
‘It’d break your heart, would it?’ she said, trying to laugh but evenfeigning amusement at the man she was so furious with felt near impossible. ‘You’re a better actor than people give you credit for, Oscar.’ Olive walked past him and turned the big silver handle on stage door.
‘Olive, please just… give me a chance to explain.’ Oscar reached out to touch her and when she didn’t flinch or pull away he squeezed her arm.
‘Okay,’ she said without lookingat him.
‘Okay?’
