Wildest Dreams

8

"Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset," Grace said, dramatically staring at the love of her life, John McLaughlin. "With red lips and rosy cheeks, I bid you farewell, my love."

That line was repeated several times throughout the film. I thought it was redundant, but Oliver insisted the people would love it. It was also uncanny how deeply I felt it.

I was standing in the middle of a throng of people. One man handed me a cup of something. Another person was fixing my hair and touching up my lipstick. I glanced over at James, who was staring back at me, smoking a cigar while perched on a box. I thought how nice it'd be to have a photo of him like that.

I moved to stand over in the set before leaving. I just gazed at it, missing the African sunsets.

I heard something move and looked up to see James standing in front of me.

"James," I said. I held back my tears.

"Scarlet," He said. His hands were in his pockets but he took them out to grasp onto mine.

"James," I just repeated, unsure of what to say. I searched his face desperately, for any sign that this wasn't the end. Anything, a tear, a frown. But there was nothing.

"Goodbye, Scarlet," He said. My heart started to break. How could he be so casual about this? So nonchalant? I didn't understand.

He started to let go of my hands, but I grasped his firmly. "Wait. Say you'll see me again," I said, my voice shaking.

He looked at me sadly. "Even if it's just pretend." I finished. James let go of my hands and I let him. He walked away, my hand out stretched to him, calling for him, yearning for him. Yearning for this not to be the end. I let him walk away.

And my heart broke.

________________________________________________________________________________

It was several months later. I was finally back home, and I was glad. I was glad to be far away from him, and the memories. The film was being released today. Tonight I was going to the premiere, getting all dressed up and fancy. I was terribly excited. I wasn't sure how I felt, though, about having to see him again.

The months without him had been hell. They were terrible. I felt empty and alone and without a purpose. When I turned to tell him something, he wasn't there. When I wanted to hold someone, he wasn't there. I just wanted to be with someone, and the one I wanted wasn't there.

But it had gotten easier. Slowly, and terribly, but it did. I still missed him, sometimes, but something had changed. My friends introduced a boy to me, who was handsome and kind and funny. Now I guess we were technically dating. He was nice to be around, of course he was. It wasn't nearly as comfortable to the extent it was with James, but it was getting there. And I was happy. I was truly happy. I did have some days where it was just too much and I'd cry and get frustrated, and Sam, my boyfriend, would hold me and hug me and kiss me. He wasn't sure exactly what was wrong, all he knew was that I was missing someone I used to be close with. But he didn't ask questions, he just held me. That's what I loved about him.

I stepped out of the big black car, waving. I was almost blinded by the flashing lights from the cameras. The photographers were shouting, waving and pointing, shoving microphones out.

I was wearing a gorgeous light pink strapless gown. It had little intricate designs on it as well. Wrapped around my shoulders was a faux fur white shawl. 

I walked up the small set of stairs. I saw James Henderson, who had a woman I'd never seen before wrapped around him. She saw me, too, and put her lips close to his, flashing the huge diamond ring on her finger by grabbing his hand. I looked away.

I felt my heart break all over again. I was disappointed. Even though I had known we could never be together, especially since I loved Sam, it still hurt to see him with that woman. She looked a little older. I wondered if maybe the arranged marriage had been a lie, and that he married her just for her money. I thought James wouldn't have been able to afford a ring with a diamond that big. But maybe that was just me.

Oliver Buchanan appeared, towing the producer of the movie along. He shoved me next to James, saying we were posing for photos, the big cast crew!

I did my best to not look upset. I avoided eye contact with James, and tried to ignore the fact that I was so close to him, the closest I'd been in months. I could smell his cologne. It reminded me of Africa.

I was instantly transported back there. In my mind, everything we ever did together flashed through my mind. The airplane rides, the picnics and dancing, the kisses, the nights together, watching the sunset, filming scenes together, pretending to be in love, when it was all a lie.

Was it a lie? I've wondered that myself a few times. Was it all just a ploy for James to not be bored his entire time in Africa? Was I just there to keep him company, for him to play with? Was I a toy? Did he ever actually have feelings for me, did he ever actually love me?

I've reassured myself that he must've felt something for me, no matter how small the spark. He wouldn't go to that much trouble. I wondered if he was feeling anything that I was feeling right now. Was he sad? Upset? Confused? Did he go through withdrawals like I did in the months after we left each other? Or was our love as pretend as the fake backdrop where we last saw each other?

It was even more painful and sad to watch us in the film together. The people in the film were not who were. It was who we wanted to be. I guess, who I wanted to be. I yearned for those times. I couldn't stand watching us be happy in that film. I could see the love in my eyes when I looked at him, even when in character.

I saw out of the corner of my eye him glance at me. I looked at him. I couldn't. I couldn't do this to myself. I was happy, happy to be home and happy to be with Sam. Sam was such a sweetheart and he didn't deserve this either. I was drowning in my sorrow of missing James, but no longer. Not to mention, Sam didn't need to question my love for him.

I got up in the middle of the film, much to the protesting of Oliver. I ignored him, running out of the theater. 

I ran outside. Where was I going to go? I spotted a car by the curb, the car I had come in. It was running, so someone must've been inside. That was good, as it had begun to rain.

I opened the door and slid in. "Take me home," I said to the driver.

I heard a door slam and then, "Scarlet!" James yelled. The car pulled away from the curb.

I saw him in the side mirror, running to the middle of the road and watching as I got farther and farther away.