Anywhere With You (18 page)

Amelie

You roll with the punches…

Christmas came and went and as planned. My newish boyfriend and I hopped a plane bound for Texas where we spent five wonderful days with my mother. It was neat to show Oliver life in the States, as he’d never been. We spent most of our time over the holidays in Texas revisiting my old childhood haunts and reliving the past.

So when we arrived in Colorado for the second leg of our trip over New Year’s, I recall already feeling nostalgic. In Colorado, Oliver, the newish boyfriend and I spent quite a bit of time at Camp Legacy with Jack and his family although we didn’t stay onsite. Colorado is normally magical, but at Christmas, it’s simply spectacular. Telluride is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited in all of my travels. Oliver agreed. Being there made me long for home in a way that I hadn’t in a long time.

Oliver and I had met on a shoot nine months prior where I’d taken to him immediately. For starters, he’s a brilliant lighting guy, and for the most part, the two of us had been inseparable ever since. Quite frankly, he’s nothing short of amazing. I’d never met a man quite like him. Well, except for maybe one…

Still, I don’t think I’d ever known anyone as happy as Oliver. From the time he wakes to the time he goes to bed, he’s just… full on happy. He has this childlike quality about him that you just don’t find often. Not to mention, being with him is just plain fun. The best part of it all though was the way his qualities tended to rub off on me, and in being with him, I’ve done some of my best, most creative work.

Looking back on the New Year’s trip to Colorado, I’ve racked my brain to find something that seemed out of the ordinary—but I can’t quite say I have. I just remember being very, very happy. I remember having the time of my life.

Oliver, I would later understand, recalled it just a bit differently.

Shortly before Valentine’s Day, not long after Oliver and I had settled into our newer, larger apartment in Melbourne, I received a missed call from Jack. We hadn’t spoken much—if at all that I recalled, since shortly after Oliver and I had left Colorado when I’d called to thank him again for the visit.

Things had been so hectic on set. I was shooting an ad campaign, and I hadn’t immediately returned his call. The following day, two more calls came in. On the third call, I had my assistant answer.

I can still remember the way her face looked when she handed me the phone. “It sounds urgent,” she’d said and so I stepped outside to take the call.

“Jack?”

“Amelie—” His voice came out rushed as though he were short of breath. “Look, I know you’re busy, but I just need to speak with you for a quick second. I don’t know who else to call…”

“Is everything ok?” I asked—which turned out to be a dumb question to which I’d already known the answer.

I heard a long sigh. “Jane left me. And she’s taken the kids. To Maine! She’s taken them all the way to fucking Maine—with no warning whatsoever.”

“What? Why?”

“I caught her having an affair last week—I walked right in on them.”

I inhaled sharply. “Oh, my God. Jack.”

“But you know what? At first I was a little angry… sure. But then, once I’d cooled down, I told her that it didn’t matter. I told her she could have her relationship—but that we needed to do what was best for the kids.”

I didn’t know how to respond. “Wow. I’m really sorry—”

“She just left, Amelie.” I heard his voice crack. “And she took my whole world with her.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“No. Well… not really. Mainly, just to the kids.”

“What—” My voice was interrupted as I heard my name being called over the loudspeaker. “Listen… Jack… I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta run. They get super pissed about breaks here because these shoots cost like ten grand a minute. But I promise I will call you back just a soon as I’m off set.”

He exhaled.

“I’m sorry. But I know it will work out.”

“I’m not so sure.” He’d sighed and then we whispered our hurried goodbyes.

“Come on,” Oliver pleaded. “Get yourself ready. It’s Valentine’s Day, for God’s sake. We have reservations.”

“Just one more second,” I called distractedly from the couch as I propped my legs up on the coffee table.

At least five minutes or so later, I felt him standing over me. “Get. Off. The. Computer. Amelie,” he demanded, as he pulled on my big toe.

As I glanced up at the man towering over me, I noticed while I’d been lost in my computer, he’d already showered and dressed. Meanwhile, I was still in sweats. He looked nice, his blond hair freshly cut just below his ear. One of my favorite spots to nibble. “I’m sorry,” I told him as I motioned toward my appearance. I checked the time on my computer. “We’re going to lose the reservation, aren’t we?”

“If you don’t tell your friend that you have to go—no doubt we will miss dinner,” he said his Australian accent thick. “Tell him that you have a life here.”

I turned my attention back to my computer. “All right,” I huffed. “I’m logging off.”

“You can’t keep doing this, Amelie,” he said, leaning against the bar.

I stood and placed my laptop on the coffee table. “I know—” I called over my shoulder as I made my way back to the bedroom. “It’s just that he’s having such a hard time… He’s so down. His wife left him, Oliver. I mean—what am I supposed to do? He has no one.”

He followed me into the bedroom, watching intently as I shed my sweats. I recognized that look, and knowing Oliver, I wondered whether or not we’d make it to dinner no matter how fast I rushed to get ready. “I thought they weren’t married,” he remarked, his eyes lingering.

“Well, not technically,” I told him, waving my hand in the air. “But I mean… they’ve been together forever.”

“That isn’t the same thing as being married.”

I cocked my head and raised one eyebrow. “Why not?”

Oliver shook his head slowly. “There’s no commitment there.”

I studied his face. “They have a child together. And he’s practically raised her daughter. I’d say that’s a pretty big commitment.”

“Ok.”

“Ok? That’s all you’ve got?”

He shrugged, his bottom lip jutted out. “It’s just—I don’t see why we’re spending time talking about them, that’s all. When we should be talking about us,” he said, smiling just a little then.

“Jack is my friend, Oliver. My oldest friend,” I replied, slipping my dress over my head. I smoothed it out and then turned to him. “Is this ok? Dressy enough?”

He eyed me from head to toe. “It’s perfect,” he whispered, moving closer until we were standing eye to eye.

I looked away, in search of my nude pumps, and then back at him. “I just can’t believe she left him like that. He’s devastated…”

“I thought we were talking about us,” Oliver said, shushing me as he moved his hands over my body, slipping one underneath my dress.

I exhaled slowly. “You’re right,” I agreed. My breath caught as he trailed his fingers along my inner thigh.

“It’s simple,” he indicated, stopping suddenly. “They weren’t happy. I saw it plainly at Christmas. I didn’t know them—so I thought perhaps that was just their normal, but for sure, you could see they weren’t in love. At least not with each other. It sucks for the kids, yes—but it is what it is, Amelie. That’s life. You—how do you American’s say it? You roll with the punches.” Oliver forced a smiled and then exhaled. Now—let it go and focus on what’s right in front of you.”

I frowned. “I thought they looked fine.”

“You look fine,” he whispered before he lowered me backward onto the bed where we slowly but surely forgot about our dinner reservation, making love instead. I recall it being nice. But my mind wasn’t there. And I think he knew it.

Jack

Unanswered questions…

To: Amelie Rose

From: Jack Harrison

Subject: The letter I’ll never send…

Dear Amelie,

I finally had a chance to read your book. And while I have many questions…

The most important would be—why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt back then?

I know the short answer is likely timing. Also, Jane—and the fact that she was pregnant. Still, I can’t help but wonder whether the two of us gave up too easily.

I know timing is important… and yet that doesn’t make me love you any less.

I still hold out hope that someday soon we’ll get it right.

Love,

Jack

P.S. I hadn’t ever seen the photos you’d taken of our trip—not until the book, anyway. They are beautiful. But the poetry, man, the poetry... It just about did me in.

I typed that email and stuck it in my drafts folder. While I’d wanted to send it, things between Amelie and I are almost too good to ruin. For starters, she just so happens to be my only real friend right now. I’m not sure I could afford to lose that. Sure, there are others—though not many who aren’t on my payroll—in one way or another. In addition, she’s in a relationship with the Australian version of Zeus—who, try as I might, I didn’t even completely end up hating. Also, there’s the fact that she’s really, really happy.

To: Jack Harrison

From: Oliver Kelly

Subject: Amelie

Dear Jack,

I hope you’ll forgive me for reaching out this way. I got your email address from Amelie’s phone. I’m also sort of hoping you won’t mention that I reached out to you. Although I do realize that is completely in your hands and I will make do either way.

Moreover—I’m writing to request that you back off. I’ve never done this sort of thing before, and honestly, it goes against my nature, being a man and all.

Lately, however, Amelie has changed. She’s gone from creative and lively to barely able to leave the house for fear of missing a communication from you. She worries, I know she does, about you. She worries that you have no one and she seems to feel great responsibility toward seeing to it that you’re ok.

I sympathize with your predicament, mate, I really do. I accept that you come as part of the deal with Amelie, given the length of your friendship. But what I do
n’
t accept is seeing her happiness shift so suddenly. You have to know that leaning on her the way you are isn’t healthy. She’s happy, she’s in a relationship with a man who treats her heart as his own, and she’s at the top of her game career-wise.

I understand that you aren’t. But what I don’t understand is why you seem hell-bent on bringing her down to your level.

So, man-to-man, I want to request that you please back off.

Take care, mate,

Oliver

I read his email over and over, and if I hadn’t hated ‘Zeus-y boy’ before—I certainly did now. And while I didn’t respond, mainly because he didn’t deserve a response, I also wasn’t so impractical as to see that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

A few days later, I typed up my final letter to Amelie—albeit another one that I would never send. I’d come to the conclusion that Golden Boy was right. I needed to move on. And while I wasn’t going to outright say as much to Amelie, I wanted to put it in writing so that I’d have a reminder for myself every time I felt the urge to reach out.

The writing was on the wall. She was happy, not to mention, on the other side of the world, and I realized that it was in everyone’s best interest if I pulled away.

It was past time that I let her be.

To: Amelie Rose

From: Jack Harrison

Subject: The last letter that I’ll never send…

Dear Amelie,

How ironic is it that I’m writing a letter I’ll never send?

Part of me feels ridiculous. But the other part realizes this is something we teach the kids here at camp (to write it out) and I figured, ah, what the hell? It can’t hurt to get my feelings down on the page…

It was right around Valentine’s Day when I read your book. It had arrived sometime during the holidays, but the office staff must have set it aside with all of the other gifts, mail, and donations we receive during that time of year. So, it sat there in the camp office for several months. I guess it was meant to be, though, because I just so happened to find it at a time when I really needed it. Also, I guess I can kind of see why you were always so evasive whenever I brought up my interest in purchasing a copy.

It’s funny to me how we can often tell the world our feelings and yet not the person to whom those feelings are directed. And that is in part why I’m writing a letter I’ll never send. You and I have always been experts at never saying what needed saying. We’ve been experts at being evasive and blaming poor timing—instead of taking personal responsibility for the reasons we haven’t worked out.

And while I understand this is not as black and white as I’m making it out to be—it still bothers me that I have left so many things unsaid. Of all the people on this planet, you would think that I should know how fleeting life and the people you love can be.

In lieu of that sentiment, I’m just going to say it:

I read your book of poetry and I realize how much of it is about the two of us. And while I wish you had shared those sentiments directly with me, I understand why you couldn’t. Even if I’m angry about it. You see, there is nothing like the bitter taste of missed opportunity.

Speaking of which, I often think back on that day, right after my father died, when I left you alone in my apartment drunk, and I went to see Jane. What you don’t know about that day is that I turned back twice. I wanted to start over, and at the same time, I wanted to fight. Mostly, I didn’t understand how it was possible to both love and hate a person that much, especially simultaneously. The second time, I made it as a far as my front door. Only, I couldn’t make myself turn the handle. So, I turned around, and I went to Jane’s and I sought comfort there, where it was easy.

Looking back, we’re fairly sure this is the day Jane and I conceived Max. And while I love my son dearly, and I do not regret him for a second, and above all, I understand that things happen for a reason, there will always be the part of me that wonders what might have happened if it’d been you I sought comfort in.

And although it wasn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that I loved you then like I love you now. As time goes on, and as life changes, I know that I have always loved you, and a part of me always will.

But that love also has a flip side. It has a dark side, and it’s one that I’m not particularly proud of… That love has cost me—it has cost more than I would like. You see, Amelie, loving you has caused me to hold on—when I should have been letting go. Holding on cost me my first marriage. It cost me my relationship with Jane—and ultimately, it cost me having my children nearby. And while Jane and I, despite the dissolution of our relationship, are doing our best to do what’s right for the children. The bottom line is that I hurt her. Worse, the truth is I was never really in love with her to begin with. Which brings me around to at least half of my point. I hope that you’ll forgive me if this isn’t making sense. I’m clearly not as good a writer as you are.

That said, the point is this—aside from my various businesses, Camp Legacy, and being a father, there is nothing else I have ever put my whole heart into—because a part of it has always remained with you. This isn’t your fault, as much as I’d like to blame you, and as easy as a copout as that would be. The truth is that’s what I’ve always done—and it’s in part why I haven’t moved on.

Only that has to stop—I realize that none of this is your fault. It’s mine. And I’ve come to understand I have to let go. I realize I can’t very well teach the children who show up to the camp that I’ve built about moving on—if I’ve never been able to do the same. I am a hypocrite, Amelie, and in the worst way.

I am in love with someone who might never love me back in the same way that I love her. I am in love with the idea of you—and not what actually is. Perhaps this is how it’s always been.

With that said, enough is enough. But first, true to form, I will give this one last-ditch effort. I will tell you that I love you—that I’ve always loved you. Because that’s what I’ve always wanted from you. And if I can’t have it, then I can at least offer it myself.

I want you to know that you are my very best friend and, more often than not, you are the first person to cross my mind when I wake in the morning and the last person I think of as I drift off to sleep. I want you to know that whenever something happens in my life—good or bad—you remain, after all these years, the first person I want to tell.

So, while I’d like to believe that there’s hope for a man like me to find love again—if it’s not a love like that, then I don’t know what hope it has.

If one can love another this much and yet still cannot make them stay—then, tell me, what are the odds for love at all?

I don’t yet have the answers to these questions. But I do know that I have to find them. I’m too stubborn to go about it any other way.

So, with that, here’s one final request—if there’s even one tiny, minuscule part of you that wonders the same, I hope I’m the first person to know.

Love,

Jack