The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

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THE ARRIVAL I HAD BEEN hoping upon for two years, turns out, to be something I avoid.

When Klarise landed, I did not pick her up like I had planned. When she was moving into her apartment, I did not meet her there to help like we had talked about. I didn't do anything I had been so excited to do.

When she finally tried to look for me—which was after a week—I always managed to get away. She called, I let it ring. She got Juno to contact me, out of everyone, and of course I started to decline his calls too. And then after a week, all of this stopped, and she made me think about how she barely even tried. How hard did she try to get to talk to me? Maybe it was how young I still was despite at thirty-eight, how we both were, but I ignored her while wishing and wanting to talk to her at the same time. Yet also unable to get over my pride, I just thought: She didn't try hard enough. I would have if I were her. Why isn't she trying harder?

Other than running away from both her and Juno, life was pretty much the same for me. And like always, I saw faces after faces each day, to the point where they sometimes felt like surreal images just passing by me and speaking to me. I don't exactly remember how long this goes on for, because I fell into a daze of routines where I suddenly felt lifeless. It's scary when this happens, because suddenly it's like you have no control over yourself, and things around you just keep moving. Maybe it's just me, or maybe this also happens to other people, but when I fall into this daze, I need someone to pull me out and wake me up.

And Mason did that.

I hadn't known he was flying to New York. For the past two years, he had been going on business trips after business trips, and though he had an apartment in New York near us, if you went in there you'd know no one really lived there other than the cleanup people that he hired to take care of the place from time to time. So when I was at home, taking a day off from shooting this movie, the doorbell rang and I went to get it; I was expecting my food delivery. But instead, what I saw was a very handsome still-in-suit-Mason and his stubble. I just blinked, my hand still on the edge of the doorframe.

Letting himself in, he steps into my apartment and just endure my amazement and blinking. It takes me a full minute to remember to close the door while I watched him stare at me. He eyed me from head to toe, then toe to head, and at last, he frowns. He shakes his head, without saying, I knew he was disappointed.

"Maeve," he sighed, starting to cross his arms in front of his chest. "I leave you alone for two years, and look what has happened?"

"What?" Suddenly I was very conscious of the fact I was wearing an oversized tank top that is almost revealing one of my nipples and that I'm in a very cartoonish underwear with no pants on. Yeah, I guess I'd be disappointed too if I saw me. Especially if I were Mason, I can't begin to fathom how much harsher his perspective of seeing me would be.

"Cameron told me what happened," He sighed lightly, this time kinder than the last. His criticizing frown softens, and he takes my hand. "I want to know if you're okay."

Ah, Cameron. Through my daze, I forgot the constant asking if I needed to talk with him, or why I was avoiding Klarise like I was avoiding hell. I forgot I never really answered him, or really acknowledged the fact he was there. That he was there for me too. That for two years, we were each other's comfort, that we had grown closer in a way I never thought possible. I feel the guilt slither its way up my skin as I tried to avoid Mason's eyes.

There was no point in lying. Often, we say we're good, that we're okay, when the question is asked. When really, you're not, except it's like a muscle rule that everyone just seemed to follow. But I'm too tired, too exhausted, too drained to want to keep saying I'm fine because I'm everything but that. And though this is what may be the littlest gesture ever, it feels like a great release. Like these thousand pound weighing chains and weights are suddenly lifted off my shoulders with the simpleness of just admitting: