As for my love life, well, I’d had two semiserious relationships in the last decade. When each ended, it felt like just another sign that once I achieved my big dream, the rest of my life would fall into place. There was a right time for everything.
Or not, as it turned out.
Please, Liza texted now.
In my head I was back at the premiere, eyes glued to the screen. My movie husband faced his killer. I entered the scene in the background. I caught a glimpse of the dress I’d been wearing, red satin, straight out of Betty Draper’s closet. But I appeared so briefly that no one would even spot me. The dress was merely a streak of blood, a splatter from a crime scene.
I knew how film edits worked. Not all scenes made the final cut. My film classes had taught me that a story was shaped, in parts, in the cuttingroom. Shaped, yes. But pillaged?
My next scene came along. This time you could see me a little more, at afternoon tea with the other wives. My makeup looked so good in my close-up. I was fresh-faced, a lovely little doll. But I was gone in a flash. A silent flash.
The end credits rolled. Everyone got up for a standing ovation. I sat there, numb, my mind still trying to process the fact that I’d gone from a career-launching role to background extra status.Allof my lines had been cut. If you didn’t know to specifically look for me, it was like I was never there at all.
I’d spent the last day subsisting on fruit from the hotel breakfast, running back to my room as fast as I could. This morning, the truth hit again ferociously. There would be no big break, only unbearable heartbreak.
I couldn’t imagine ever recovering from this. I was done. I’d gone completely broke for this trip, and this might be the last time I’d ever come to Cannes. So I put on a little black dress that had seemed so French when I packed it but now made me feel like I was on my way to my own funeral.
Outside, the sun made me squint, which did nothing to alleviate my splitting headache. I’d forgotten my sunglasses upstairs, an injustice that suddenly filled me with bruising sadness. The fact that I could have gone back up to get them didn’t even compute. I walked and walked and walked. Going nowhere, feeling everything all at once. Humiliation, despair, shame, a pain so deep it made me gasp for air.
I reached the bustling Croisette, passing by groups of women going into Dior or Louis Vuitton. I was walking along the promenade when my phone rang again. Liza. I couldn’t avoid her forever.
“Lou!” She said emphatically. “How are you?”
Liza had invested time and energy in me for years. When my ownfamily had stopped showing any interest, she was the one who was there for me, always with the solid advice, the comforting words. And there I was, her greatest disappointment. I hated the idea of letting her down.
“Sorry I couldn’t talk before. I had a…family emergency. Long story. What did you think of the movie?”
I couldn’t believe that the words had come out of my mouth. Why would I bring it up?
Liza took a moment to respond. “It would be better with you in it.”
I wanted to cry. A part of me had hoped Liza hadn’t made it to the premiere at all. I hadn’t seen her, but of course she’d been there to witness my descent into oblivion. No, that wasn’t right. I had never ascended in the first place.
“Lou…” She continued.
“It’s a great movie! The cinematography, the sets, the costumes… So gorgeous.”
Maybe if I never stopped talking, then the tears wouldn’t start spilling again.
“I’m really sorry,” Liza said. “It happens all the time, but I hate it. I hate it as much as you do.”
But she didn’t. Liza had a roster of clients who were racking up roles and awards. She had a long, successful career behind her and much more of that ahead. At this point I was her pity client. Deadweight. She didn’t need me. Especially not now.
“Your next role is your best role; that’s what I always say,” Liza continued.
I kept pacing the promenade, avoiding dog leashes and kids on scooters wearing bright helmets. Many people wore badges around their necks, indicating various accreditations for the festival. I spotted an empty bench along the way and sat down, facing the turquoise sea.
“Talk to me,” Liza added.
No words came. My mind went back to the days of filming, seeking signs that I would eventually meet this fate. I couldn’t find any. In ten years, this had been my biggest catch, by a long stretch. I wouldneverhave done anything to screw this up. But I must have.
“Does Odetta Olson hate me?” The question spilled out. That had to be the explanation. “Did she see my performance and think that I was ruining her movie?”
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Liza said. “I mean, who knows? And who cares? It’s done now.”
“Icare about what Odetta Olson thinks of me,” I said.
I didn’t realize how loudly I’d been speaking until I noticed a few people turning to look. A woman smiled as she sat next to me. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t tell where I’d seen her before.
