Appeal Denied

2016-NYC-LA-London-28: Motion to Dismiss

September 3, 2016

"Dunkirk is done, Kirk," his text read, and within moments my phone started ringing with a FaceTime call. Biting my lip, I watched my own face on the screen as the phone continued to ring with the One Direction song "If I Could Fly" playing as my ringtone. Cursing, I reminded myself I needed to change that. My finger hovered over the accept button.

I was so proud of him. He'd finished his first movie, and he wanted to celebrate with me. Me. That's why he was calling, I was confident, and it's why I should have answered immediately. Yet I didn't. I just stood there, the room around me feeling suddenly hot and airless on this early September day as I looked at his name on the screen.

When the phone finally stopped ringing, I sat on the bed, breathless as though I had just completed a marathon. My heart pounding like a jackhammer. Never before had I intentionally missed one of his calls.

My entire body jumped when a text came in right after, "Brains? Are you out planning wedding stuff?"

As I scanned the message on the lockscreen, I wasn't sure what to do. Our contract was no longer meeting my needs. I hadn't shared space with him in months, and the upcoming wedding reminded me acutely that, technically, I was completely single. Nothing to keep me from dating smart, sexy men other than a piece of paper that wasn't enforceable in any court of law. Was it time to give him the "You're a great guy, but...." speech? The real problem was that I knew I could never be successful. My throat would swell. My head would spin. My fingers would become numb.

Harry was too.....Harry. And everything that entailed. His dimpled smile. His warm, mellifluous voice. His gentle ways.

I couldn't do it. End the contract. Not like this. Not over the phone or on a FaceTime call. But still...it had been hard sending in that RSVP for the wedding. I was the same age as Amber and yet I had no potential marriage prospects anywhere on the horizon. The contract, which had been meant to be exclusively about sex, wasn't protecting me anymore. It was hurting me.

Vibrating once more -- this time with a voice call -- Harry's name popped up on my phone again. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the onslaught of emotions.

"BRAINS!" he yelled when I answered, and I couldn't help but smile at his exuberance. Like a puppy with a new owner, tail wagging the whole rear of his body while he peed all over the floor, unable to control his bladder yet.

"Hi, Harry," I responded, prepared to make up a lie for why I hadn't answered his texts or FaceTime calls in the last few minutes.

"Vanessa," his formal reply made me sit up, nervous.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Vanessa, I just finished filming a movie with one of today's most famous directors, and a cast that includes Sir Kenneth Branagh and Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy and Mark Rylance," he paused, taking a breath, "Holy fuck. I just did that."

The pride and wonder in his voice brought tears to my eyes, and I chose to let them fall since we were on a voice call. "Yes. You did, Harry. You did something amazing. Your first movie. At such a high level too." Clearing my throat, I licked a tear from my upper lip before I whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Butterfly Boy."

There was silence on the other end, and then a sniffle. "Thank you, Brains."

Silence reigned until I jumped in with a question, "Tell me all about the wrap party! What happens next? When do you start recording the album?"

"Whoa! Slow down there," he laughed, and I was relieved that we had returned to an even keel.

I couldn't break up -- I mean, cancel our contract -- when he was on such a high. It would have destroyed his happy mood.