Read The Actor and the Housewife Online
Authors: Shannon Hale
The Actor and the Housewife (38 page)
Annette slams a Bible-thick stack of papers on the desk before Becky. As she begins to thumb through it, in walks FELIX. He is in his midthirties, and every inch of him is the Hollywood dream hunk.
Thoughts about the screenplay stuck to her constantly. Even when she wasn’t at the computer, she was writing dialogue in her mind and tweaking the order of scenes—at night before bed, in the morning if she woke up early, any minutes she could snatch from laundry or errands or work. Never had any story so haunted her. As she fiddled with which details to include and omit, she discovered the bulk of the story focused on Felix, Mike and the kids playing supporting cast. Which certainly wasn’t historically accurate. But, she reminded herself, this wasn’t a true tale of her whole life, only the part of her life that was Felix.
Of course, she couldn’t remember the exact words that had been spoken ten years ago, or last year, or even last month, so it became “based on a true story,” and some of the scenes she consolidated, making one phone call conversation stand in for an entire year. Still, she nailed the essence of it, even if she might have made herself just a little bit wittier in memory than she deserved—but that’s a writer’s prerogative.
Every scene built up to answer those questions: Could Becky the character love again after Mike? And fall romantically in love with Felix? Not just love him but
love
him, be his lady, let him be her children’s new father, keep him as close as her own soul?
She lay down the skeleton of the story, except for the final scene, having no idea how it would end. Then she went back over the script and began to massage the details, put in the texture, endow it with that spark of life that turned a outline into a full-bodied story. And that’s when the magic part happened.
It was a Friday night. Polly and Hyrum were both at sleep-overs with friends, and Sam, feeling left out, went to spend the night with his cousins. Becky was alone, and that huge empty bedroom in that maliciously empty house was a drooly monster threatening to gobble her up. So she turned on the television for company, curled up on the sofa (the leather one) with her laptop, and worked all night. The pieces started to link. She saw for the first time the profound randomness of their relationship, the obvious coincidence. How did she not notice it at the time? Again and again, the improbable occurred. She began to list these events.
1. Against all odds, she sold a screenplay. How is it possible that a Layton, Utah, mother of three (and a half) with no Hollywood connections or professional writing experience would sell a screenplay? Without an agent, without a contact, and not only that, but be fl own out to Los Angeles to seal the deal?
2. Felix Callahan just happened to come into Annette’s office while Becky was there. Then she had to use the restroom and so approached the elevator just as he did. His apartment was being renovated so he was staying in a hotel—the exact same hotel as she was.
3. The mere fact that he was Felix Callahan to begin with! If he’d been any other actor—Jude Law, Denzel Washington, Antonio Banderas, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Will Smith, Kurt Russell, Pierce Brosnan, Johnny Depp, George Clooney—then Becky would have been amused by their verbal tussle and relished retelling the story back home, but she never would have gotten into that limo, never let him look over the contract. Or dined with him. Or danced. (They’d danced!) Only because it was Felix Callahan, her one weakness, was she tempted to bend her personal rules and see what might happen next.
4. Felix had a layover in Salt Lake City the
exact
time she was presenting at the film conference, enabling yet another encounter.
5. And that autumn day in Los Angeles when she was lunching with Karen and selling
Blind Love
. If she’d phoned Felix to say she’d be in town, she would have met up with him before or after her Karen meeting, and so the movie idea never would have been broached. Instead, in a city of nine million people, they just happened to be in the same place at the same time. They hadn’t spoken in over a year and the friendship might have dissolved for good—instead, they ended up starring together in a movie, the friendship intensifying and solidifying.
6. He called on the one-year mark of Mike’s death just at that piano-drop crisis and saved her. He really had saved her. Looking back at the moment from inside the story, she had no doubt now. Every molecule of her had been half Mike—mother, wife, person, woman, she was halved when he left. Only the Felix’s-friend part of her had never mixed, preparing that separate Becky. So only Felix could have reached down and pulled up the fragment of her that could survive until Becky could make herself whole again.
Movie plots depended on some amount of coincidence to stick together. Real life was just too huge and haphazard to create a tidy hour-and-a-half romantic comedy without leaning on a happenstance meeting or two, a misdirected package, a misheard conversation. But real life, her life, couldn’t possibly be so stuffed with serendipity, could it? Not unless there was some other power at work.
It was four A.M. and she read the script again, marveling at the events that had brought her to Felix. Sleepiness and the strangeness of an empty house were making her feel ethereal, drifting from thought to thought, half in her body and half hovering over her own head. For her, it was like examining a human cell under a microscope and discovering a tiny signature inked in the corner—
God
. It was like getting a huge, warm, divine hug. It didn’t make her cry; instead, it made her sleepy. She wanted to curl up in bed, cozy under the covers, and feel the warmth of that discovery rock her to sleep.
The wonder of the realization didn’t fade with morning. It was even more brilliant by daylight, all the edges and textures of the miracle gaining clarity after she’d stretched and showered and had a bowl of cereal. She imagined the past eleven years like a map in her head, and saw too that in this garden of forking paths, she hadn’t been yanked along, kicking and screaming. At so many times, she could have jumped off and gone another way. But she hadn’t. Becky Jack did not believe in Destiny with a big ol’ capital “D.” But she did believe she was guided a certain way by a divine hand, and she’d chosen to follow.
But how would it end?
She phoned the kids to check in (because since Mike, she had to speak to each of them every morning—their voices were her morning caffeine) then curled back up with that laptop. There was the story, almost finished, everything leading up to the final scene, to the part of the story that hadn’t happened yet. There was only one real option for her: a kiss. Their first real kiss.
A kiss wasn’t a magical orb of insight. But in matters of love, she considered, nothing else so simple had such power to cut to the quick. A kiss woke up Sleeping Beauty. A kiss brought Snow White back to life. A kiss changed Mike from person of interest to future spouse. So it had to be a kiss. But beyond that one detail, Becky was still in the dark. She started to write, trying to discover what would happen next.
INT. JACK KITCHEN DAY
BECKY
(on phone)
Hey, Larry. I need to talk to Felix in person. Today. Do you know where—he’s there now? Okay. Okay, I’m coming out. Don’t tell him I’m coming, okay?
INT. AIRPLANE, ECONOMY CLASS DAY
Becky sits next to a large man who overflows a little into her seat. He nods rhythmically as she blathers on, as if he’s agreeing with everything she says. She focuses on her bag of pretzels and doesn’t turn completely to look at him.
BECKY
It’s just, we were friends for so long. And if it’s possible that we could be in love, I mean, really in love, now, then what about before? All that time, I was best friends with a man that I could marry? That would mean that I was unfaithful to Mike in a way. I hate that thought. I hate it. And I don’t believe it. I . . . no, I just don’t believe it. But am I letting my fears keep me from being with someone I could love? I don’t know. And I don’t know if Felix has already moved on. It’s been three months since our New York trip, he might be with someone else now, and that would be the answer. That would be fine. But . . . oh, sometimes it just hurts. The loneliness. The what-ifs. The . . . the not knowing. It’s still not settled. I just need it to be settled. You know?
Man removes an earbud-style earphone and turns to her. He hasn’t heard anything she’s said, he was just nodding to the music.
LARGE MAN
Sorry, ma’am, did you say something?
Becky stares at him, blinks, then points at the window.
BECKY
Look, clouds.
MAN
(thinking Becky’s a nutjob)
Yeah, how about that? Clouds. In the sky. She waits until he puts his earbud back in and isn’t paying attention to her anymore, then she starts in again.
BECKY
I mean, it’s not that I’m blind to his attractiveness. I’m definitely not. Please, he was Calvin the sexy pet shop owner. But there’s a huge leap from liver to lover—HUGE. And the chasm is very, very steep. I know. I’ve peeked down.
EXT. LAX DAY
Airplane whooshing into Los Angeles.
INT. FILM STUDIO DAY
Becky, with a VISITOR tag around her neck, takes a deep breath as she passes from the brightness of outside into the studio. Felix is on the set of a subway car, facing off with a black-haired mob villain in a nice suit. Becky stands back and watches.
FELIX
Tell me where the bomb is, and you might walk away from this train in one piece.
VILLAIN
(in an extreme Russian accent)
You are for talking big now, Gospodin Arthur. Soon Ivan will be marinating your eyeballs in his martini.
Felix and Villain engage in a choreographed fight sequence. Without sound effects, the fake punches seem very silly.
DIRECTOR
Cut! We’re getting a glare off that window.
ASST. DIRECTOR
Take five, everybody! We need to reset the lights. Felix comes off the set while electricians move on to fiddle with the lights. He notices Becky.
FELIX
What are you doing here?
BECKY
Hi.
Felix looks at her for a long moment, as if tempted to go to her. Then he heaves a breath and busies himself getting a bottle of water.
FELIX
Becky, I can’t see you.
BECKY
I know. I wouldn’t have come back if I hadn’t changed my . . . hadn’t realized that I . . . if I didn’t really believe that it would work.
FELIX
What would work?
He steps back onto the set. She follows while trying to explain. Becky is so focused on Felix, she doesn’t notice that as they talk, all the crew and cast members slowly disappear, leaving Becky and Felix alone on the set.
BECKY
Our story. I didn’t believe in it as a story, I thought it was doomed to fail. And I didn’t believe I could be that person, the heroine of that story. But I was forgetting the important part—the fact that . . . that I love you. I love you. Goshdarnit, I love you so much.
They stand looking at each other for a few beats—Becky wanting Felix to speak, some sign that he still cares, and Felix as if he is considering turning away. Then the motion of the subway car starts up, at a pleasant amble. The screen behind the windows changes—they’re no longer rushing through a subway tunnel but meandering through a typical green English countryside. The lights soften. Sweet pastoral music plays.
BECKY (CONT’D)
Where . . . what happened?
FELIX
I’m taking you home, at last.
BECKY
Wait . . . you knew I’d be here . . . How did you—
FELIX
Larry spilled the proverbial beans.
Becky shakes a fist in the air.
BECKY
Larry . . .
FELIX
You should praise his name. Otherwise you would have blurted those awkward declarations in front of a room full of gawkers.
BECKY
(realizing they’re alone.)
Hey, where did everybody go?
FELIX
Just giving us a little privacy.
He takes both her hands, pulls her closer to him. They are in the same position as they were when he first asked to kiss her at the Valentine’s Ball.
FELIX (CONT’D)
Becky, there’s a question I asked you eleven years ago that you never answered. So I ask again—may I kiss you?
BECKY
But what if . . . what if . . .
Felix lets go of one of her hands and touches her cheek. He isn’t posing or acting—his movements are very simple, very human.
FELIX
Becky . . .
BECKY
Yes? I mean, yes. I mean, kiss me. Yes, please kiss me.
Their kiss starts slowly, tentatively, interrupted by giggles, then building into genuine passion, then slowing again into the sweetest affection. They stop and look at each other.
BECKY
Wow. That cleared things up.
FELIX
And how.
She nearly crumples, and his arms go to support her.
BECKY
I’m a little wobbly.
FELIX
I’ve got you.
BECKY
We’re too old. I don’t have the energy for this kind of wild love. If you kiss me like that again, you’ll put me in a coma.
FELIX
I imagine we’ll get used to it after a while.
BECKY
Felix, are you sure? Are you really, really sure? Are you sure you don’t want to marry me because you feel sorry for me? Or you think you love me just because you’re used to me after all these years or—
He kisses her again. She almost crumples again. He catches her.
