It would be very helpful if you all could tell me whether it sounds realistic or not.
Thanks for the reviews in advance!
Chapter-7
Josh Burton
08:19 AM
26th June
I felt my career, my glorious career, break down into pieces as I glared at the colorful screen of my plasma screen, which was constantly filling black and white colours in my life. The news channels were flooded with the news, updating us with the latest on her case.
Her death had no doubt, been the most tragic incident in my whole professional life. It was worse than the one, when one of my project’s actress was bitten by a lethal snake, while shooting in the Amazon jungles. The actress was on bed rest and the shooting had to be stalled. That was one of my nightmares as the producers refused to spend more than their budget, and insisted to change the actress. That was possible, as we hadn’t shot much with her and replacing her wouldn’t have hay-wired our budget. But she was the best; I wanted her. She suited the character’s personality very well and I didn’t want the human activists to throw wrong accusations at me, as they always do. So, I bickered with my producers and at last convinced them to wait for a week at least.
The venom might have entered her body, but was paralyzing me each passing day when she stopped showing any signs of recovery; she was unconscious for about four days. But finally I got out of this mess when after a week only, she reported to the green set, chirping like a bird.
I was feeling like an ant, the humiliated one. But I believe there’s rarely an ant which is not tormented by us. My present life seemed similar to a game, which I played when I was eight. I used to block an ant’s way by putting my shoe between her path, and then I would enjoy her getting restless and frantic. But she was determined; she would change her path or the route. But then I would stop her halfway again, sending shivers down her microscopic body, if that’s possible. She would again change her route and the pattern would continue itself, until my cruel self got bored, and thought that it would be best to stop the game there and then. I used to enjoy her being helpless; I liked the feeling of having the control of her life to myself. Now I could picture myself as an ant, and God as me from my childhood. He enjoys seeing us stuck, unable to move ahead. But we're not as determined like the ant, but some are. But God opens a door for us somewhere, a place where we never run our minds to, so most of the time we remain stranded.
Nobody knew about my mental sufferings from the past few days, exception being my wife. I had lost my control; I didn’t use to socialize, spend my time writing the script which was later rejected , and then end up quarreling with my wife. No one had been agreeing to produce my next film. They all were seeing my last two flops but not the thirty-eight hits I had been giving from so many years. My situation was somewhat similar to the one I faced when I was a beginner, when I didn’t know the tactics of this film world. But yesterday night everything seemed to be changing, when Tyler agreed to produce the film, only if I got Amanda into it. I knew she would never refuse and hence promised him without giving any other thought to it or consulting her. I had to show in front of her that I wanted someone else, a new face, as I knew how jealous she is. Then she somehow, with her turning games, convinced me to take her, which I wanted to do. She thought I helped her, but in real, she did. The deal was done, giving me the most joyful news in the past three months to jump at.
Back on the screen, many of her fans were being shown crying and it left me amazed to find so many. I knew she was big and popular, but you had to see the number to believe it. Some were shy to the camera; others were threatening her killer, while rest chose to let their tears do the talking. I know that people in my line crave for this kind of love from their fans, but I’m also sure that they laugh at the back to find people worship them like god. Everyone close to her had been interviewed but Olivia was not shown even once.
Maybe she had still locked herself inside the shell, which would be supporting her now, since her best friend had died. She would be sitting inside, compact, not letting anyone get near her, just waiting for god to tell her that Amanda was back and he had just stolen her from her for a while. I was also desperate to listen this from god, but I knew there was no hope of it. He was enjoying playing hide and seek with me.
I knew little about Olivia, whom I had first time met at yesterday’s party. Before that, we only communicated through those little toys we have with chips inside them, though not the flavored ones. She was always very good at her work, delivering messages to and from Amanda quickly and being with her in every phase of her life, like a shadow.
I was feeling sorry for her, mainly because we shared the same wires. Her career would also get affected by Amanda’s death like mine. The only difference was that she hardly had one.
There was a faint knock at the door, and then someone clearing their throat.
“Come in,” was my reply. There was a creak and the door slung open, making me come face-to face with my wife, holding a tray in her hand, in which were two little mauve cups. Her lips were sealed into a frown.
“Honey, I thought I might make tea for you myself today.” She said and walked in swiftly, while her night robe’s bottom danced around on the marble floor. Her hair was left loose, falling down in curls.
I swallowed hard; this was going to be difficult. To pretend that Amanda’s death hadn’t affected me a lot.
“Thanks hon. Where’s Nancy?” I asked her as she made herself comfortable on the couch opposite me, and kept the tray right on the table between us.
“I gave her a day off. She wanted to visit a church in her hometown.” She said while passing me a cup.
I smiled at Dora for being so kind to Nancy, our housemaid. Nancy was known to me even before I had met the love of my life. All this while she had been a mother to me, and I wanted to be a son to her by letting her do whatever she wanted. But my wife didn’t seem to like my idea and made sure that poor Nancy worked very hard. Nancy’s twenty-one year old daughter was suffering from cancer, and the poor mother had prayed at every church in California for her daughter and now started her mission in Texas, her home.
There was this silence filling up the entire room, making me want to puke. I wasn’t in a mood to talk and Dora knew it, so she too kept quiet. But neither was the silence doing any good to me. My eyes fell on a photo kept besides the couch on a wooden table. My dear, Becky! How much daddy loves you. My little angel, I thought, looking at the photo of my daughter on her second birthday when she was about to cry. We had invited many guests at her birthday and my Becky had been so scared that she cried the whole time, while people enjoyed the time of their lives.Dear, oh dear!
Although Dora pitied on me, but I was feeling sorry for my sweet little angel. I had my doubts on for how long would I be able to provide her the same luxury I had been providing ever since she fist opened her eyes.
I looked at Dora; she was looking down on the newspaper, which I had kept that morning after reading. Her eyes were locked onto the same headline which had been troubling me. “Amanda Bailey murdered! No clue about the killer.” She took a tension-filled breath and then looked at me; her eyes full of pity for me, which was the least I wanted now. I shun away contact and then looked on the same photo again. You aren’t supposed to be feeling sorry for me. Scold me, shout at me!I pleaded to her in my mind.
Dora again cleared her throat to bring me out of my reverie. My eyes met hers, now filled with concern, more than pity. Exactly what I wanted. Anything but pity. She put down her cup on the glass table and then called for my attention.
“We need to talk about it,” she said firmly, searing into my eyes.
“What do you mean? I said, trying to look perfect.
“You know what I mean by this. We need to talk now.” She kept on repeating the same words again and again, like an alarm clock.
“Fine, I’ll give this a try. What do you have to say?” I asked, taking sip of my tea.
“I can’t stand it anymore. These fights have become constant. All you do is either lock yourself up in a room or watch TV. And if by chance you aren’t doing any of them, you’re fighting with me. And this has become quite rare.” She scrunched shut her emerald eyes for a minute, but to me it seemed like eternity.
“What more do you expect from me? Dora, I haven’t been offered any script and no ones taking my script. This way we would end up on streets.”
“Does that make your shouting at us justifiable? She asked, rising up her voice level a bit.
“It doesn’t make it alright but you only tell me what’s right,” I asked her in annoyance. Why she couldn’t understand my pain, my problem? She slightly twisted her pink lips and then stood up.
“I just want to be an umbrella for you...providing you shade in this cruel bright sunlight. You don’t share any of your problems in detail, you don’t let me be your support…What wrong have I done to deserve this? I have decided,” she said. Her last words were simple, just ‘I have decided’, but they were scared me, sent shivers down my spine. I knew the decision she was going to make would send my life to a bigger hell, where I would find impossible to live.
“What have you decided?” I asked getting up with her.
“I am…no actually I and Becky are leaving this house for some time. You need some time alone. Complete your scripts do whatever you like. We’ll be back when everything gets back to normal. Not everything…you,” she had a pain to her shrilling voice, and after saying this she started trembling. She was crying. My heart burned with anger, which directed on me. I went closer to her and took her fragile hands into mine.
“I’m so sorry, dear. I couldn’t understand what I was doing to you. Oh my! I have hurted you a lot,” I said as I pressed her gentle hands calmly. All this while, her head was down, but I knew she was crying.
“Don’t you think you’re a bit late?” She asked me in her same stern voice again, after looking up at me.
“I know, but I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me,” I begged like a four year old. She wiped off tears from her face and then looked at me, now more seriously.
“Sorry. I have to leave. I also want a change. I still…love you,” she said. She pulled away her hand from my grasp and then sighed. I was standing there, trying to understand
whether this all was a reality or a nightmare. She hugged me, before leaving the room, before leaving me...
~Shubhi
