“So he can see what he lost,” I say, and it’s the truth. I know Alex inside and out. I know our problems had nothing to do with personality. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved me. We didn’t make it, that’s all. I hope he’ll at least be able to look back and not hate me. I hope he’ll realize we had something special.
“Well, hello.” I hear the familiar deep soulful sound of Lars’ voice. He’s in the doorway. Mirabel knows him from a show they worked on together years ago. She stands, hugs him, and says, “Hi, Lars. I’ll leave you two for a chat.”
He walks all the way into my office, but doesn’t sit. Lars is a brilliant and attractive man—not in the universal way that Alex is attractive, more in how he carries himself. He’s tall, with completely gray, longish hair. A dead ringer for Mads Mikkelsen. Despite how attractive he is, I was never personally physically attracted to him. Maybe my body already knew something my brain didn’t.
“Hi,” I say. “Are you going to stand there staring at me, or do you want to have a seat?”
“I’m cataloging this shot…this memory. The view right now with you standing next toyourdesk, inyouroffice…yourown TV show poster behind you, D…it’s like I’m looking at a painting and it’s moving me…You did it, you really did it.”
“Always a way with words. Come here and hug me,” I say. We hug, and for a moment we’re back to ten years ago when we started working on his show. “It’s good to see you, Lars. Congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thank you,” he says as he sits down. “Congratulations on your divorce.”
“Touché.” I sit down at my desk and say, “So…are you here to ask me for a job?”
“Eli pulled some strings and let me see an early cut of the pilot.”
“You’re kidding. I haven’t even seen it. I’ve only seen the dailies. How is this possible?” I ask.
“I don’t think he wants you to see it until all the garnishes have been added.”
“Ahh, that makes sense. Smart man.”
Lars better tell me what he thinks of the show before I have to ask. He knows whenever a writer has to ask, it’s a bad sign. And he surely knows I’m holding it together on the outside, but inside dying to know what he thinks.
My office is bare bones. It’s a writer’s office, not a designer’s. Aside from the poster on the wall, there are papers scattered and a few pictures on my desk. I have an open window that looks out onto the Warner Bros.’ backlot New York Street. Lars looks outside and stares like he’s in deep thought for moment before looking back at me.
“Is that where they shotFriends?”
I laugh a little. He’s playing with me and I think I’m going to play along. “Yes, that’s where theFriendsset was. Do you remember the logline for that show?”
“Tell me.”
“It’s that time in your life when your friends are your family. Isn’t that just brilliant?”
“Where are you going with this, D?”
With feigned innocence I say, “Oh, I’m just saying…”
I’m referring to the day that I came up with the logline forLitigators,after Lars had written the pilot and we were about to pitch it to the studios. I had said, “I got it,It’s the only family of lawyers you actually want to know.” I remember Lars thought it was confusing and offensive, especially because the execs were probably all lawyers. I figured they would totally get the joke and think it was funny. I was right.
Lars and I are doing a dance right now. This is how we worked. He’s putting it together.
“One person can’t fulfill all your needs,” he says.
I smile widely. He’s guessing the logline for my show,Yours and Mine. He’s spot on. I’m burning up. When is he going to tell me what he thinks?
“D?”
“What?”
“You were always right, especially about the logline forLitigators.”
“Great.”
I can’t do this much longer.
“So…” he says.
