Ghost Man (4/4)

It finally came and he picked me up late that morning. When I got in the car I could tell he was masking his reaction to my face. “How are you doing?” He asked as he began to drive.

“You know, I’m alright.”

Over the next hour and a half we drove into the mountains and we chatted about everything and anything. Most if it didn’t matter, but it was nice to have my mind off of everything for a while. But the mere being around made me not think of everything else. I wasn’t deformed. I was just me.

When we finally got into the mountains, it was around sixty degrees and cloudy, the perfect weather for grilled cheese and chocolate. I’d gotten the jalapeno and bacon, he’d gotten the gouda and tomato (he always fancy to a fault) and we’d driven up into the park and found a quiet bench beside a beautiful overlook. Below was green mountains and in the distance was a waterfall that poured down into a mighty river. It was only us and nature, and it took my breath away. It was all perfect.

“Jean’s working programming for the film festival in Santa Barbara,” he said. “Did I tell you that?”

I shook my head. Why did he have to mention Jean now?

“It’s next week. But they’re showing Love Lost.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a damn good film,” he said. “And because we wanted to honor you.”

“I don’t need to be honored, Rod,” I replied.

He sighed. “Look, when you were in the hospital, I--” his voice cracked, and I could see a tear forming in his eye. “I’m sorry.”

He extended his hand toward mine, and I took it. The feeling of his grasp was electrifying. 

“I’m in so much pain, all the time,” I said. As I spoke, he looked right at me. It was just me, the feeling of his touch and his bright green eyes. Nothing else existed in the world. Nothing else mattered. “I doubt I’ll ever act again. I can’t go anywhere without people staring. Maybe I should have died that night.”

“No,” Rod said. “It wasn’t your time.”

I exhaled. Rod was a big believer in the idea that everything happened for a reason. I could see how it helped him but it wasn’t for me. Life just happened and we had to make the best of it that we possibly could. “Maybe,” was all I could respond.

“I’ll always be here for you, Monty,” Rod said. “I’ll always be your friend.”

I took a deep breath. I wanted to kiss him; that would be the only thing that would make this moment better. But I couldn’t without feeling guilty. “Are you happy?” I finally asked.

He nodded. “I’m going to ask her to marry me, I think.” He let go of my hand and we both turned back in front of us. 

“That’s good.” He said nothing, and I kept talking. “I’ve always wanted a family. A big one. But I never met any girl I’d want to marry. And besides, who would now?”

“Liz, if you asked.”

I laughed. “That wouldn’t feel right.”

“You know, I told Jean that I like men too, that I’ve… been with men. And it didn’t make any difference to her.”

“That’s different,” I said.

“Only if you tell yourself it is,” he replied.

Shortly after he drove me home and he hugged me before I got out of the car. “You’re going to be alright. I know you will.”

“Thanks Rod.”

A week and a half later, I remembered what Rod said about Love Lost playing at the film festival in Santa Barbara. I checked the paper. It would be playing at two that afternoon. It was just past eleven. If I left soon, I could make it in time. I dressed as inconspicuous as I possibly could and brought a wide hat too.

I arrived that the theater and bought my ticket just in time. The film had just begun, and my heart was pounding. I was terrified someone would recognize me, but they were all intently watching. I used the darkness to my advantage and took a seat in the back row.

It was Frank and Donna’s scene now. I wouldn’t be on again for a bit yet, and I let myself be absorbed as a viewer in a way that I never had when we were making it. In the movie, Donna and I had just married and we were already having problems. Frank played an ex who was trying to get back to into her life. Nothing had happened between them yet, and although it was never said, Donna’s performance clearly showed she was torn between him and I.

The scene changed. I watched a young man lying on a couch, dressed in an untucked t-shirt and slacks, his socked feet propped against a pillow. His wife was talking as she washed dishes, but the young man wasn’t listening. He was staring intently at the wall in front of him. It was December of 1941, they were newlyweds, and the young man hadn’t yet told his wife he had enlisted. His age was never given, though he was probably too young, too inexperienced to make an important decision such as marriage, but the world had become a terrifying place. It was now or never.

In real life, the young man was carefree and the world was at his feet. He’d arrived in Los Angeles three years before, a starry eyed boy from the middle of nowhere. After working odd jobs to make ends meet, he was cast as George in a production of Our Town. A talent scout had seen the play and signed him a contract. He appeared in small parts at first.

One day on a lunch break he’d been sitting on a curb outside of the soundstage. It was a western and he was an unnamed cowboy, and all he could think about was how cool he felt in his attire. Behind him, he saw a petite dark haired young woman walk by. She was in a black and purple jumpsuit and her skin was green. He’d seen her around, sans green skin, but they hadn’t spoken.

“Let me guess, the commissary food?” He’d asked.

The young woman laughed. “Not exactly.” She hesitated before gesturing forward. 

“Galactic duties call, cowboy.”

He was almost finished with his food and stood up. “I hear the wild west is the same direction as outer space.”

The young woman laughed again. “I’m Liz.”

From that moment they were inseparable. Shortly after, Liz took him to a lounge and and introduced him to her friend, a singer with soft green eyes and the voice of an angel. He felt nervous around him in a way he never did around Liz. Yet, the three of them went everywhere together.

With Love Lost came his first substantial role, an Oscar nomination and the attention that came with it. Liz was away on the night of the ceremony and so he’d asked Rod to be his guest. While he didn’t win, he and Rod had spent that night together and nothing was quite the same after that. But it wasn’t meant to be. Rod was always away on tour, and the young man’s career was just beginning. Still, they would remain friends.

There were so many things I wished I could tell him now. I remembered how, when the cameras stopped, he joked about the stupidest things to everyone else. How once, when they were waiting for a camera setup, he’d entertained Donna and Frank with imitations of various celebrities. I envied his innocence, I envied how he’d only pretended to know true suffering. I wanted to tell him to slow down and truly appreciate everything he had. But I couldn’t. He was gone.

An hour ticked by as I watched the young man go to war. He kept a picture of his wife in his pocket through it all, and she gave him the strength he needed to come home to her. When he finally did, he took her in his arms, kissed her, and the small crowd broke out in applause. Then, he faded away as the screen went blank and the lights came up.

As everyone exited the theater, I pulled my hat further over my brow so no one would notice. I realized my back was hurting and I needed to go home to take my medication sooner rather than later. But I couldn’t move. I thought about how much I missed being the carefree young man who got to do what he loved most in the world, and I realized I was crying.

I had been told countless times over how lucky I was to have survived. But it hurt to be alive. If I was dead, at least I wouldn’t be in pain.

An usher entered the theater, startling me. He saw me right away and I could tell that he recognized me. “Sir, we have to clean up.”

“Yes of course,” I responded. My entire lower body was in pain, and I really needed to get home and take my medicine. I held onto the seat in front of me for support as I stood up.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asked nervously.

I nodded. “It’s a good one, isn’t it?” 

My eyes were still welling with tears. Gone though he was, the young man would always be a part of me. I thought about what Rod had told me the other night. It wasn’t your time.

Maybe he was right. Maybe that had to count for something.