I nodded, sympathetically. “What have you been going through? If you don’t mind me asking?”
She looked between us both. Oscar in the chair in the corner and me on the main sofa beside her.
“I’m dating an older woman – a famous actress – who is married to an even older woman. She told me they had an open marriage, but now I’m not sure if that’s true. Things have been very intense between us. But she’s being evasive about when she’s going to tell her wife that she wants to get divorced. Safe to say she doesn’t want to launch our relationship. Hard or soft. I’ve been journalling a lot and practising breathwork when she goes on set. Her wife is back in the US. I feel like shit, to be honest.”
I couldn’t help but glance at Oscar again. His face was trying its best not to contort in confusion. I had no idea Flavia was sapphic either. Last time I saw her name in the media she was apparently dating a guy.
“How old is this woman?” He asked.
“Thirty-one.”
“And the wife?”
“Forty-two.”
“Oh boy,” Oscar muttered under his breath.
I leant forward. “That sounds like a lot, Flavia. How long have you been seeing each other?”
“A year.”
I winced internally so she didn’t see it.
“She says she just needs time until after her next film comes out. Then she’ll tell her wife.”
“She’s got all the cards. You’re on hold,” Oscar said.
“I know,” she slumped back on the deep and cracked leather sofa.
No music was going to be getting made until we thrashed this out. No music would be worth making until Flavia got this off her chest anyway. I had a pen and paper strategicallypositioned in front of and beside the sofa for occasions exactly like these.
“Where did you meet?”
“At the Grammy’s in LA. Then I flew to New York with her after we stayed up partying all night. It was the most romantic first date I’ve ever had.”
She could write a situationship album out of this material. It could be major, if handled well, with Flavia’s mental health supported appropriately. We’d only just met but I wanted to wrap my arms around her and protect her from all this.
“Does your manager know?” I asked.
“She knows. She’s never been happy about it.”
“What support do you have about this?”
“My best friend knows. And now you guys. I’m keeping it tight. Could you keep it to yourselves?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Oscar mimed zipping his mouth shut.
“It’s why I haven’t been able to write. Ugh. I just feel so in my feelings the whole time. When I’m with her, it’s like I’m high on drugs. And then when she goes, I get withdrawal symptoms. I don’t know how I’m going to live without her if she dumps me, and I think when she goes back to the US after filming she is going to.”
“How does that make you feel?” I picked up a notepad and pen.
“Angry. Disappointed. Sad. Hurt. Stupid for falling for her bullshit.”
I scribbled down what she said and looked up when she said stupid. “You’re not stupid. There’s nothing wrong for falling for someone and having feelings for them.”
“I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone in my entire life. She’s my soulmate.”
