Darken up

4. Summertime sadness

   Tom knew Genie was right, but he wasn't ready to face the truth when he spent so much time avoiding it. He still cared for her deeply.

'Of course I do!' he responded, flashing his disarming smile at the laptop's screen. 'I just want to make sure that we get the wedding we want, that everything is perfect.'

'Shouldn't I be the one worried about the details?' Genie frowned, he could tell she was getting annoyed.

'In the current climate, that sounded a bit sexist.' he made a pathetic attempt at a joke.

'I feel like you're procrastinating. There is always a project, a role or a humanitarian mission!'

'Darling...'

'Don't darling me! We've barely met in two months!'

'Now that is hardly my fault. You have been shooting in Vancouver and you know I've been tied up here with the renovation and the new projects!' he said in a bit sterner manner than he wanted to.

   They stared at each other, both hurt, expecting the other one to budge and declare all of this to be a misunderstanding, let's get married next month in Vegas, to hell with the press, with their parents, agents, fans, yet none of them spoke. How far was this from the first year of under-the-radar bliss, when they could not keep their hands off each other, the stolen glances or innocent looking touches that only they knew were filled with longing and lust. Now it was all about scheduling, the wedding, their agents trying to align their calendars, so they can spend time together. Tom knew it must be harder for Genie, because he was more high-profile with more opportunities, but she didn't seem to resent him for it, all she ever showed him was support. Still, he sometimes wondered and then felt instantly guilty about it. Besides, he worked really hard to get where he was. Fame is a fickle mistress, she shines brighter on some than others. Genie was in her late twenties, she still had plenty of time to climb that proverbial ladder which seemed to offer more and more steps for her recently.

'Are you going to Rob's garden party? Isn't it tomorrow?' she changed the subject, unable to cope with the silence any longer.

'I don't know. I'm having a hard time memorising the script. Maybe.' he said. 'Besides, it would be weird without you. He's your friend.'

'More of a pal.' she smiled, mistaking his reluctance for jealousy. 'Remember last year's? It was quite fun. You should go!'

   He was hyped up after the call, he changed into his gym kit and he headed down to the gym. It was 2:20AM. He pushed the doors and his pulse jumped as he heard the noise of equipment in use. He hadn't seen Flóra since the work event and that was almost a week ago, but it was just one of the receptionists. He stepped on the elliptical trainer, disappointed. As he was going through his routine, he became increasingly irritated. He had to get over this weird obsession with some woman he barely knew. It was like as if fate was messing with him: placed her in his path, in the same building, put her on the creative crew and so on. To top it all off, she clearly had some issues, the biggest one being a controlling sociopath for a boyfriend. He started to pound the punching bag, imagining it was his face. He despised himself for the effect Ove had on him. He oozed dominance. Tom never felt that way before in anyone's presence. He remembered how the hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he passed him by, he could have sworn the temperature dropped.

   The next morning, he woke up to a wonderful Saturday, sunshine peeking through the windows. He decided to RSVP to Rob's party and let Genie know. He desperately needed some distraction infused with loads of alcohol. Last year's event was quite alright, they met some great new talent, writers, up-and-coming fellow actors, musicians. Bohemian bunch. He had a late lunch, gave two interviews online, then went for a walk, trying to memorise that damned script, but his head was not in the game. He gave up after an hour and went into a restaurant to eat something, then he returned to the apartment. He made himself a strong mojito and put some music on. It was one of those warm June afternoons, so he sprayed himself with some sun cream and pulled the sun lounger into the shade. He was sipping his cocktail, watching patch of clouds slowly waltzing through the deep blue sky.