Lauren’s pacing all over the place and I can already tell she’s been rehearsing whatever it is she plans to say all day. Right now I’m pretending to be asleep, which is something I haven’t pulled since I’m in the sixth grade. I know whatever shit is about to go down is going to be huge and I’m really not prepared for it right now. It seems since we first moved out here we’ve been fighting regularly… and I don’t mean pussy-shit fights, these are up until the sun comes up type of fights. I’m still really hung-over from last night and the last thing my fragile body needs right now is drama. Nine times out of ten I’m all for drama – it helps prepare me as an actor… but at the same time a man can only take so much.
She’s pissed for two reasons, the first being the most obvious – coming home last night reeking of a gin mill after being “in the program” for just around two years. The second reason, the biggest of all, would be the fact my jacket smelled vaguely like the perfume aisle at Macy’s. Lauren’s got it in her head that I was a little too close for comfort to a member of the opposite of sex. I tried telling her before calling lights-out that LA-type get-togethers include a large amount of women – all of which are decked to the neck in all sorts of fragrances. That said, if a well-intentioned cat like myself is to walk amongst these gals, a scent is bound to rub off here and there. No matter what I was telling Lauren, she wasn’t buying… and I can’t really blame her. Before Lauren met me, she had gotten over a string of sour relationships that always ended the same way – with the man of the “ship” cheating on her. I’ve told her time and time again that whatever those cats did is on them… I’m not like that. As they say, that shit’s a “them problem” not a “me problem”.
I can hear her pacing back and forth and it’s only getting worse as the minutes drip off the clock. There’s a faint mumble coming from under her breath which tells me she really is rehearsing and now I’m faced with quite the fork: I can act as if I’m just waking up and eat my shit like a man or I can continue to front this charade and possibly risk allowing her more time to strengthen her cache of ammo against me. I decide the latter is not only extremely likely but also the more uncomfortable of choices so I begin to stir out of bed. I kick my leg out and give off a long sigh. Lauren’s footsteps stop, she’s looking right at me, and not buying into any of my shit… The chick’s been with me almost a year, she’s hip to all of the tricks.
“You finally decided to show me you’re awake?” she says with fire in her eyes.
“What are you talking about?” I try to ask as genuine as possible.
“Don’t act with me Andrew… I know you weren’t sleeping.”
I don’t know if she’s trying to fish anything out of me so I step out of bed looking as offended as possible and ask, “Where is all of this coming from? I just woke up. You’re not still thinking about last night are you?”
“Don’t give me the ‘oh golly’ routine. We never finished what we were talking about.”
“Okay that may be true, but I just woke up. Can’t you give me time to at least brush my teeth?”
“Let’s not get off on the wrong foot. You and I both know you weren’t sleeping…”
“Oh yeah… what makes you so sure of that?”
“Andrew, people don’t swallow when they’re sleeping. It’s something they teach you in 9th grade biology. You’ve been swallowing hard for the past thirty-minutes.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. I try to think back to 9th grade but come up empty – I was pretty stoned all of the time back then. I realize a bulk of time has passed since she’s made her little observation so (like an idiot) I say, “So… I mean… wait is that true?”
“Jesus Christ Andrew…” She says showing just how fed up with me she is and then after a long pause she offers, “Can we talk like a couple adults for a second here?”
I already know this is going to be too deep for this early hour so I head to our mini-fridge where I stashed a four-pack of Boddingtons English Ale when I got home last night. I open the fridge, pop a can, and let the alcoholic elixir slide its way down my throat. Lauren looks at me as if I’ve been carrying typhus for three years so I ask as innocently as possible, “What?”
She lets the moment sit for a few ticks, then asks “So you’re drinking now?”
“Please Lauren; I can only take so much shit in a morning.”
“How is that shit? You said it yourself, when you drink or do shit you change…”
“It’s different with this… The booze calms my panic attacks.”
“You’re having a panic attack right now? Usually that happens when you’re doing things you’re not supposed to be doing…”
I’m starting to get fed-up. She’s lucky I love her. I keep my anger at bay and ask as calmly as possible, “Now what is that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me?”
“Look…” I say, “I know shit’s been tough moving here… I know you hate it here and you’re roughing it up on my account… I dig that, and I love you for it. But at the same time, you have to realize, in all the time we’ve been together we haven’t gone at it like we have the past few days. I love you to death babe but it’s been something new every day… I come home smelling of booze and you assume I’m out there raping teenagers. My jacket smells like perfume and all of a sudden I’m fucking models left and right. All this shit is so fucking taxing… and if you’re mad at something else looking for an outlet, this is the wrong fucking way to go about it. I mean shit Lauren, I know I came home late last night and I was doing a bit of the drinking but what’s the big snake over… I mean really?”
There isn’t an answer for god-knows how long. The room is thick with uncomfortable and she refuses to look me in the eye. She lets out a sigh and drops down onto the futon with a defeated look painted on her face. I hadn’t realized until now how draining just being in Los Angeles probably is for her. A part of me feels so bad and wants nothing more than to hug her hard so she may cry on whatever shoulder she wants… but there’s this other part of me, perhaps the new one she’s talking about, that can’t help but to be irritated by her. I’ve done nothing wrong since we stepped into town, yet she continues to have this nervous breakdown reminiscent of Charlize Theron’s character in “The Devil’s Advocate” (personal favorite of mine, Pacino is the tops). These empty mornings are getting old fast and despite how much I love this girl, I don’t know how much longer I can put up with it.
I take a few more swigs of my Boddingtons (which helps with the hang-over) and can no longer handle the silence, so I ask her, “Are you just going to sit there? I mean wasn’t this your fight to begin with?”
“I never intended it to be a fight Andrew.”
“You could have fooled me last night…”
“Last night you came home reeking of booze and women’s perfume!”
“I was at a party Lauren… an industry party at that. You wouldn’t understand.”
“And you would? You’ve been here two weeks Andrew.”
“Right and in two weeks I’m already networking.”
“Networking? Andrew that party was probably filled with hundreds of other kids just like you chasing a dream. Networking doesn’t involve drinking.”
“Jesus Lauren…”
“Seriously Andrew… who did you meet last night? What kind of big-time networking did you do? Get any numbers Andrew? Thicken up the Rolodex, did you?”
“I don’t know why you’re being such a bitch about all of this. What do you want from me? Would you prefer I don’t go out at all? I did invite you to the party after all didn’t I? It’s not like I’m going out behind your back.”
“That’s not the point Andrew!”
“Then what is the point, Lauren?” I pause for a beat to open another Boddingtons, then say, “Because like I said it’s something new every day. I’m going to be out there a lot trying to further my career… don’t put me in a position where I have to feel guilty every second of the day for something I shouldn’t.”
Tears form in Lauren’s eyes. I don’t think anything I said would have warranted such a reaction but the water’s flowing anyway. She can’t look me in the eye – her hair buried between her legs. The tears get stronger and stronger and I haven’t the slightest idea what to do. I just stand here… sipping my Boddingtons… trying to figure what it is I’ve done.
As her cries grow louder and louder I know I have to do something “boyfriendy”. She needs me, and perhaps this can be a breakthrough to prevent future tussles.
I say her name softly make my way next to her on the futon. I wrap my arm around her warm body and she doesn’t turn me away – in fact she embraces me. She shifts her body to interlock with mine and hugs my mid-section harder than I’ve ever been before. It’s a weird, very comforting hug, where her arms hold on tight but the embrace of her soft skin fits neatly into my own making me feel completely at peace. I can remember why I love this girl so much. We fit.
Despite our holding one another her crying continues. I can feel her salty tears and warm breath bounce off the soft skin of my neck. It’s a feeling hard to put into words, soft and warm – almost orgasmic – while at the same time dirty on account I am the cause of the tears downpour. And even after the smoke clears, the fight will forever change our relationship to the point having things the “way they used to be” close to impossible.
The cries down-grade to light sniffles and Lauren pulls away from our beautiful hug-session. She looks me in the eye and offers a weak smile – almost more out of pity than anything else. I wipe a tear away from her cheek with the back of my hand and she allows a more loving smile… but something’s still on her mind.
“It’s just…” she says while choking away the last of her tears, “it’s just I get scared sometimes. I’ve been scared… since even before we got here.”
“I don’t understand Lauren… what’s there to be scared of?”
The tears make their way out her eyes… here we go again. “I don’t know, I’m just terrified that you’re changing… that you’re going to change… and we just… we just won’t be us anymore.”
“I don’t understand what makes you think that? We’ve been best-friends forever. It’s always been the Lauren and Andrew show. Nothing’s changed…”
“You have.” She says softly – almost defeated.
“How? What is it the beer? I told you it mellows the attacks. It’s not like I’m doing dope anymore.” I say with a choke, as I can actually feel Lauren’s heartache and knowing deep in my mind there’s nothing I can do to change how she feels, heart-ache ensues within my own self.
“But that’s right now. Today it’s the beer, tomorrow it’s rum in the morning, then it’s pot, then you’re back to your old-self.”
Without warning frustration makes its way up my neck and into my brain replacing feelings of sadness and powerlessness. I feel for Lauren and know she’s been crying so I try my hardest not to be too mean. I say as calmly as possible, “First of all Lauren, you didn’t know my ‘old-self’. If you recall the whole reason we met in your bum-fuck town was on account I was drying out in a recovery home. You met me after all the bad shit… so how can you say anything about me becoming ‘my old-self’?”
“I know the stories, you’ve told me all of them… plus, I know you.”
“You obviously don’t” I say, “If you think having a beer here and there and going to a party is going to change me for the worse than you must not know me at all. Don’t you understand that acting is all I want besides you? I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize any of that! I mean, do you just not trust me? Because that’s the tune I’m hearing from you… do you honestly not trust me to make the best decisions possible for both of us? You know me babe, you know I’d never let anyone change who I am. I’ve been a leader since the day we met.”
“I know” she says as she wipes the tears, “But it’s not you I’m afraid of. It’s these people, the people in this town. Don’t you understand Andy? I’m not afraid of you… I’m afraid for you.”
The tears start again and I can almost see why. Her saying what she just said, the humility, the message practically painted on her head: I love you so much. I suddenly realize clearly what all of this is about. She loves me more than life itself. She through the whole life she knew back home away because she’s banking on the fact we’ll be together forever. She’s rolling the dice but wants to make sure she’s on the winning side. She doesn’t want to lose the guy she fell in love with two years ago. She doesn’t want to lose the guy she was willing to leave everything behind for. She doesn’t want to see me change.
I can’t help but to see the innocence in Lauren and my heart immediately melts for her. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world and loves me more than my own family. She is my family. She’s my everything.
“Hey” I whisper into her ear, “You’ll never lose me. I promise”.
Before she can say anything I lay her down on the futon and kiss her with the same passion as our first kiss. I taste her breath, fondle her body, and enjoy every second of it.
She kisses my neck and sucks on my ear – sending vibrations all throughout my body. I grope her sweet spot and the horses are off at the races – clothes come off, sweat begins to pour, and we do what we do best.
We haven’t been this passionate since we first got out here. I love this girl and feeling her warm naked body against my own only solidifies it.
Our fight’s over… its official. We got over a hump and lived through it… things can only get better for the two of us.
Just as I insert myself into Lauren a thought hits me—an image I wish would go away but only gets stronger every time Lauren kisses me or gyrates up and down…
It’s the thought of a brown haired beauty. It’s the thought of someone else in my bed other than Lauren…
It’s a thought of Rachael… and despite how much I think I love Lauren…
I wish it was Rachael here in bed with me now…
