The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

60

AFTER A WEEK FROM THAT night where Mason found me in a neighborhood I don't know the name of, I had to catch up on a few things for a film before meeting Mary Qiu. But I made a promise, and I will always try to follow through when I made one.

She had her own house in LA, and I guess because Mason thought I'd find it uncomfortable to see her in Cameron's house, I was meeting her there. With Mason of course. I wouldn't have gone without him.

It was like any other ordinary American house. Flat, one floor, with a big grass lawn and a new looking mailbox. I got out of the car first while Mason parked, and before I could even breathe in all of the scenery around me, I saw a shuffle at the shades in the window. A few seconds later, the door opens abruptly.

She didn't look forty from a distance. She looked like a mid twenty year old woman who had a good taste in clothes but doesn't put in an effort to show it because she doesn't need to. She was in pjs, not those revealing kind, but fully covered, while still looking somehow extremely good in a bottled up messy bun half hanging out of her head. She waved, smiling, and the resemblance between her and Mason was undeniable. Black squared glasses took up most of her face, and her eyes were set almost exactly like Mason's, same shape, same color, and that same heartwarming feeling that runs in your heart to see them wrinkled up. When she got closer, she looked older, but mature, still pretty, with her black hair and small fixture. It was sort of impressing, somehow, the feeling she gave off as she walked, with a stride of confidence that matched my own. I swallowed, trying to not show any of my surprise or bedazzlement.

Mason walked past me and greeted her with kisses on both sides of her cheeks as they hugged each other. "Good to see you doing so well," she leaned back, admiring him in a way I've never seen anyone done to him. It was probably a motherly thing, but I wouldn't know.

"I'm always doing well." Mason, in a suit again and gelled hair, turns to look back at me. "Mom, this is who I've always been talking to you about, Maeve. And Maeve, this is my mom, Mary."

Mary's face falls out of her easy smile, but her eyes, instead of becoming straight like how Mason's always does when he stops smiling, stays curved and warming. I felt my hate for her leaving, but I was tugging so hard at it to stay.

"Of course, Maeve. I've heard so much about you. Why not we talk inside with some, would you mind for some pie? I just baked some in my spare time."

"Actually, I don't think that——"

"That would be wonderful, Mom." I eyed Mason, and he ignored me, already walking in toward her house.

We're in her dining room, and the table is overfilled with papers, leaving barely enough room to eat that Mason was standing up while gobbling down huge bites, one after another. I glance over at some of those stacks of paper while picking at a slice of her lemon pie, which I secretly took a bite of when Mason and Mary wasn't looking. I hated to admit it, but it was probably the best pie I've had in awhile, not that I got to eat any sweets much anyways. The papers, some stapled, some clipped, looked mostly like scripts and screenplays. My hand unawarely go to one, already lifting it to read some of it when Mason's voice startles me. I felt like I was caught doing a crime. I quickly drew away my hand.

"Maeve, I've actually been trying to tell you this."

I set my pie down, trying to ignore Mary's gaze at me. Or maybe she wasn't staring at me and I was being paranoid, although I didn't want to risk checking. I waited for him to say what he's going to say, dreading each second ticking by in this house that was being wasted.

"I am writing something and I want to cast you as the leading role."

My eyes, without much of my own thought and will to what I was doing, goes to Mary. Now that I wasn't avoiding to look at her, she looked mature in a way that was business like. She looked like the kind of person who can go soft and easy, while in a few seconds, get down to the important stuff and cut short of the sweet talk. I liked those kinds of people.