The Final Act

Chapter Nineteen: The Fall

ONE YEAR LATER

Fame continued to grace Rory and Angel's lives. After The Book Lovers had its off Broadway run, they were in great demand for the magnetism they brought to the stage. They were Bogart and Bacall reincarnated. Critics loved them, their charisma, their still untapped talent, and they had a plethora of scripts of their choosing. And their off-stage love story continued. They moved in together and began planning a life with each other. Angel was a bit skittish—this was a huge step for her, but she knew more than ever that she wanted to be with Rory.

She remained on a steady keel for the better part of a year with their latest play, a more serious role for both of them. She had her down moments but nothing she couldn't overcome, especially on the stage. Rory watched her very carefully for signs of a downturn, very protective of the love of his life. Then the darkness descended. One morning she simply couldn't get out of bed. Rory knew from her warnings that the only thing he could do was to be there for her. She missed rehearsal for the first time in the almost two years that he had known her. He knew this time was different.

Angel lay in bed with the blinds drawn, preferring the darkness to the brilliant sunshine of the day. She took more medication without her doctor's knowledge, certain that she knew what she needed. By mid- afternoon, when she still refused to get up, Rory crept in quietly to see her. He loathed waking her if she finally was able to get some rest but he was very worried about her. I guess this is what she meant by the down times, he thought as he closed the door gently behind him. He approached the bed fearfully, not knowing how he was going to react to seeing her in this state, and Angel was awake, staring into space.

"Can I get you anything, sweetheart?" he asked, gently stroking her cheek.

"I can't eat," she replied, barely able to get the words out. "I just need to be alone, please."

"I love you with all my heart, sweetheart."

With that, Angel rolled over and wept uncontrollably. "Why does it have to hurt so much?" she said through her tears.

Rory, pain shooting through his whole body at the sight of his beloved in such agony, kissed her gently on her cheek as he wiped away the tears. He turned, closing the door behind him, leaving her to bear her pain alone as she asked.

As Angel's depression worsened, her understudy, chomping at the bit to assume her role opposite Rory, stepped in, ready to dazzle the director. Rory, defeated without his co-star and love, reached deep into his soul to pull off the days' scenes. It wasn't the same, nor would it ever be without her. Each evening he returned home to the same darkened bedroom, the same tears. Angel couldn't eat and was fading away in front of him. Mentally, he had told himself that he would be able to handle her bad times, but emotionally he was wrought with grief.

Angel managed to pull herself together enough to see her doctor. Through sobs, she told him this was the worst she had ever been. He changed her medication but told her it would take time to take effect. She left the office, went home and crawled back into bed. Darkness, inside and out, covered her being. It would be an interminable wait.

Rory, fearful of leaving Angel alone, but knowing that he couldn't do anything for her, continued to go to the theatre for rehearsals. The understudy was becoming firmly entrenched in the role and was even making a play for him. Life was surreal for him, acting here and acting at home to feign composure whenever he came near Angel.

One morning, as if by some miracle, Angel came out of the bedroom and announced, to his astonishment, that she felt a tiny bit better. She wanted to stay up for a while and even have something to eat. Rory, fighting back tears of relief, gave her the first real hug he had been able to give her in weeks, and fixed her breakfast. He delayed going to rehearsal for as long as he could until she insisted that she was better and that at least one of them had to show up. Now, thinking a bit more clearly, she began to worry about getting her role back. Rory assured her that the play was not the same without her and that as soon as she was up to it, she would assume her role opposite him. Weary with fatigue, Angel went back to bed, this time with the blinds open, letting in the morning sunshine.

As if a switch had flipped, Angel returned to normal. She would never be able to explain how that worked to anyone—she hardly understood it herself. One moment she was on the verge of despair, the next she was acting her normal self. Oh, the miracle of drugs. But this time she was on some pretty heavy duty antipsychotics, far more than anything she had been accustomed to. She didn't care—she was feeling good and that's all that mattered. But, she knew it had scared Rory. Hell, it had scared her— she had never been that bad before, even in college or when she was teaching. She searched her brain, heart, and soul to find a reason for her debilitating disease and came up with nothing. She thought back to her mother's mood swings and, now that she was aware of the signs, she realized that her mom had probably suffered from at least a mild form of depression. And she knew it was hereditary. Thanks, Mom. She hated all the pills she had to take to literally stay sane, some causing weight gain, but they were her little friends now and she wasn't about to end that friendship.

A few days later, Angel returned to rehearsals, feigning a long illness to explain her absence. Needless to say, the understudy was not happy to see her, but that was the nature of show business. At least the director had noticed her. Angel slipped back into her role without skipping a beat, playing opposite Rory like putting on a well-fitting glove.

Rory watched her carefully, every little downturn of the mouth or furrow of the brow catching his attention. He would have to live like this from now on, now that he saw the extent of the depths of her depression. Had he gotten himself in too deep? But, he knew his love for Angel would soften the anxiety he was beginning to feel. Only when she had a few months of normalcy would he begin to relax—the memory of that darkened bedroom only a nightmare that he was finally awake from.