Diane Chambers had a headache. The room was noisy, stuffy, and full of strangers. She thought that after twenty years of Hollywood parties she would've gotten used to it, but tonight was different. She was alone and out of work. This party was the equivalent of those dreaded networking events she had frequented in college. She moved across the room making small talk and trying to fit in with a crowd that she had obviously outgrown. She found herself staring at the walls, noticing the awards and posters of her host's recent films. It took her a few minutes, but eventually she saw one of her scripts' cover pages, tucked away in the corner among the other outdated projects the host had pushed aside.
"Diane!" Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around, startled.
"I didn't know you'd be here. What a nice surprise."
"It's good to see you, too, Julie."
It was not good to see her too.
"Isn't this a dreadful crowd? I don't know how anyone could stand to work with all these millennials," she complained. "Although you'd be surprised at how much attention these young men give to older women," she added with a suggestive glance toward the attractive young man standing in the doorway. "Being middle aged does have it's perks."
Diane forced a laugh. She hadn't liked Julie when they were both in their prime and she liked her even less now. A showy writer and obviously fake friend, she had worked with Julie on one too many episodes of a prestige drama.
"Do you have any new projects coming up?" Diane heard herself asking.
"Well not to sound obnoxious…" You passed obnoxious about an hour ago, Diane thought. "...but I just got asked to direct a few episodes of a reality TV program and I'm still part of the writing team for that ABC show. The series finale is coming up soon. I can't believe it's been eight years!"
"That's wonderful news," Diane replied, trying to hide the bitterness in her voice. Success for one woman is success for us all, she reminded herself. Fifteen years ago, she would've believed that, but tonight it sounded trite and naive.
"What about you dear?" Diane could hear the pity dripping from Julie's voice. All of Hollywood knew she was out of work and Julie was just trying to rub it in.
"I've got a few interesting projects coming up in the next few months, but nothing's finalized, so I can't really talk about them," she fibbed.
"Well, good luck, my dear, and call me if you ever need anything."
"Of course."
She wouldn't call. She didn't think she could stand another pitiful conversation with that woman.
Diane watched with relief as Julie walked away and practically pounced on the young man across the room. She wandered around a little more until she found the host of the party.
"Diane! What a pleasure. Marlene and I are so happy you could make it. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. I'm still writing as much as I can, but the name Chambers doesn't carry much weight in this town anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Hopefully you'll run into a few leads tonight."
Oh great, Diane thought, another pity invitation. Her headache was growing by the second.
"Oh there's Marlene." Bob led her through the crowd and Marlene greeted her with a smile.
"It's lovely to see you dear."
"And this is a lovely party," Diane replied, returning the compliment.
It wasn't a lovely party.
"Some of your recent work came across my desk the other day. The minute I saw it I knew I had to invite you to this party tonight. You'd never believe it, but Bob and I managed to get the new VP of production for NBC to come tonight. You've done wonderful work for them in the past, so I figured an introduction to the new guy wouldn't hurt."
People were always introducing her to "the new guy." It was starting to feel like a string of failed blind dates. She had half a mind to start writing under a pen name, she felt so worn out.
James Marshall was a tall, dark haired gentleman in his early 40s. They're all in their early 40s, she thought bitterly. Some of them were legitimately talented businessmen, but she could tell that "Mr. Marshall" had flirted and maybe even fucked his way to the top. He was the third VP she had met in the past twenty years. They kept moving as she stood still. She wanted to blame it on sexism, but a part of her was worried that it was just her lack of talent.
He held out his hand. "James Marshall. It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise." He's already boring me, she thought.
"I've heard your name a lot through the years. NBC thinks very highly of you."
I've won them multiple Emmys for five different television shows. They fucking better think of highly of me, is what she wanted to say.
Instead, she just smiled and thanked him.
"I was looking at some of your previous work the other day and wondered if you had anything new. A few producers have expressed interest in your work, but we just want to see if you'd still be a good fit for the network."
"I've sent most of my recent ideas to Marlene. I'm sure she can pass them along to you."
Diane was torn between relief that she might get more work and annoyance that she still needed to prove her talent.
"I look forward to reading them," James replied with a patronizing smile.
Diane had had her fill of pity interactions for the evening so she excused herself a few minutes later. She drifted into the other room in search of the bar. She knew she should stay at least an half hour more to be polite, but she also knew she'd never make it through that half hour without a drink.
Bob and Marlene were the kind of old fashioned couple who had a built-in bar situated in their library, a library that included so many books they had a sliding ladder installed to reach the top shelves. Diane loved that library, but tonight it just served as a painful reminder of everything she was missing.
Diane approached the bar and ordered a glass of wine. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind it. She stood there a few minutes wondering when her hair had gotten so gray and when that line on her forehead had appeared. Probably at the same time my headache started, she mused.
"Ma'am?" The young bartender's voice interrupted her thoughts.
She was always "Ma'am" now, never "Miss."
"Forgive me," she said to the person behind her as she stepped out of line. For some reason though, she couldn't look away from the bar. Then she spotted some unique yet familiar glass water bottles sitting on ice. Immediately, her mind flashed back 25 years, and she saw Sam Malone standing behind that bar, a bottle of water in one hand and a mug of beer for Norm in the other.
What a strange moment to think of him, she thought.
Shaking her head, she turned away from the memory and tried to find a seat in the crowded room. She had been on her feet for at least two hours and as tonight had painfully reminded her, she wasn't as young as she used to be.
EVERYBODY HERE IS WATCHING YOU
She took a seat in the corner where her scripts hung. She figured she'd fit in there because they were something that belonged to her. The party was dying down a bit and the room began to clear. As she sat there nursing her glass of white wine, she noticed a rowdy group in the middle of the room. The man who seemed to be the center of the group had his back to her. She smiled as she admired his tall, husky build and head of full of graying yet still thick hair.
Just as her headache was starting to fade, she was surprised by a whiff of a cologne that she hadn't smelled in years. Immediately, she was transported back to those moments at Cheers when Sam Malone splashed that stuff all over his face before a hot date and filled the bar with an overpowering musk. This was the second time in the span of half an hour that she had thought about Cheers and she was starting to worry that it wasn't a coincidence.
As the crowd thinned out, so did the noise. She was torn between getting up and joining the obviously fascinating conversation led by who she hoped would be an attractive man close to her own age, and staying put on the very comfortable bench where she had taken off her shoes and was currently hiding her bare feet under the bottom curtain. At the beginning of the night, her curiosity might have gotten the better of her, but at this point she was content to be "that lady in the corner," watching the rest of the world go by.
I'VE BEEN BY MYSELF ALL NIGHT LONG
A young lady sat down next to Diane. She kicked off her heels and hid them under the curtain.
"Good idea," she smiled at Diane.
"I thought so," Diane replied.
"I'm Samantha," she introduced herself.
"I'm Diane."
"I know. I love your work. Your characters are always so complicated and interesting. When I saw you sitting here, I knew I had to come say hello."
They spent a few more minutes making small talk. It was relief to talk to someone who wasn't helping or pitying her.
"I suppose I better go," Samantha excused herself.
Once again, Diane found herself alone in the crowd. She looked across the room and was disappointed to find that the group surrounding the older man had scattered. She decided to make her way back to her car. On her way, she passed the library and took another lingering look at the beauty of it.
Diane stopped short. There standing by the bar was the attractive older man from the other room. She balked as she realized why she had been reminded of Cheers so often tonight. For the first time in over twenty years, Diane Chambers was standing just a few feet away from Sam Malone.
LET ME PHOTOGRAPH YOU IN THIS LIGHT
Diane stood there in the doorway, watching him move around the room. His hair was gray, his face was wrinkled, and his clothes were a bit outdated, but his eyes were still striking, his broad shoulders impressive, and his smile spellbinding. He heart skipped a beat when he stepped behind the bar. He didn't look particularly attractive, but he looked so familiar and natural. Diane stared in wonder as she realized how much she had missed the way he moved. He still had the stature of a baseball player, tall and lean with strong arms and a cute butt. She was amused to see that hadn't changed.
Was he really still bartending? she thought. Surely he has retired or moved on. Then she remembered that the bar was what held him together. She knew he had sold the bar multiple times, but he always went back. It had been his home, and she assumed it was still.
Would it be so bad if he were still a bartender? she asked herself. She could tell he was more confident and satisfied with his life than she had been in years.
EVERYTHING JUST TAKES ME BACK
The last time Diane had felt the same fulfillment was those years when she had steady work on an NBC drama. So much of that drama had been inspired by the early days of their relationship. Her mind flashed back to the episodes where the characters fought over so many little things. His cologne was too strong, her tone too condescending. His work was too important, hers wasn't important enough. For some crazy reason, Diane had thought pouring her memories into those stories was a good idea. The series was a hit, but these days she could barely stand to watch it because it was too familiar. Seeing Sam reminded her her less of their times together than it did all the happy times in her life.
Today she was lonely, but she had pushed that aside in favor of bitterness and cynicism. Sam's appearance made it impossible to ignore those feelings and she started to get angry at him, also a familiar emotion when he was around.
His laugh carried across the room and startled her out of her reverie. She had missed that laugh. He had the best laugh out of all her lovers. For every argument they had, there was always a moment of joy to even it out. One day they would be yelling about going to the opera versus a baseball game, and the next they'd be running around the park with a pair of water pistols they had snatched from some kids in the neighborhood.
Sometimes that laugh filled their bedroom. Those were the best times. She never had so much fun making love with any other man. His talent was exceeded only by his enthusiasm.
There he stood, laughing and joking behind a bar as though nothing had changed in the past twenty years. And yet, everything had changed.
DO YOU STILL CARE
Diane was still standing in the doorway when Sam looked up and glanced her way. She saw his face change from casual observance to intense confusion as he did a double take. She wanted to look away and maybe even run out of the room, but once he caught her gaze she was trapped. Every complicated feeling they had ever shared came back in a rush. A part of her wanted to run into his arms immediately, but another part needed him to make the first move. And make the first move he did.
He stepped out from behind the bar, eyes locked on hers as he crossed the room. Her stomach churned as she wondered what he was would do. She hoped he wasn't angry. She had left him more than once in their history and each time she had broken a piece of his heart. She knew this because she had also broken a piece of her own heart.
He stopped an arm's length in front of her.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hello," she replied in a near whisper. "Nobody told me you'd be here."
"I had no idea…"
"You had no idea what?"
"I had no idea you'd be here either."
"Sam, I know that's not what you started to stay."
"I had no idea you were still so beautiful."
"It's been a while."
"It's been more than a while."
A string of questions fell from his lips: "Let's have a seat. Do you want a drink? Why are you here?"
"Networking, mostly," she said answering his last question. "Although it's turned into more of a 'let's help Diane, she seems so sad these days' kind of party."
"Have you?"
"Have I what?"
"Have you been so sad these days?"
"Well, I'm an out of work, middle aged, female television writer in Hollywood. Take a wild guess," she snapped.
"Whoa, sweetheart. I'm sorry I asked."
Her face softened. She had missed the way he called her that.
"No, I'm sorry I snapped like that. It's been a long night."
His eyes were like magnets and she began to spill the stories of her past. He responded in kind and a few minutes later, they were sitting on the library couch, Sam's arm around her shoulder.
I'M SO MAD I'M GETTING OLD IT MAKES ME RECKLESS
The room emptied around them as the sat there for at least an hour. Diane's headache had disappeared the moment Sam put his arm around her. She never wanted to leave that couch. At some point, Bob and Marlene walked into the library. They were the last people Diane wanted to see at that moment so she made some quick introductions with even quicker goodbyes.
Sam and Diane walked out of the room together.
"My car's over there." She pointed to the left.
"I'll walk you over."
"I'm glad I saw you," she said to break the quiet.
"Me too."
They stopped at her car.
"I hate to say goodbye."
"Me too."
"My apartment's nearby." She motioned for him to get inside.
"I can't believe it's been so long," she said for at least the fourth time that evening.
"You already said that." He smiled.
"We're getting old."
"We are," he agreed.
"We had lots of fun when we were young."
"Maybe even too much."
Diane was feeling reckless. Seeing Sam had boosted her spirits and given her new energy.
"Do you want to repeat some of that fun tonight?" she asked.
"Always," he replied as the car pulled into her driveway. They quickly climbed the steps to her apartment. The moment they went inside, Diane wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him.
"Is this ok?" she asked.
"This is perfect," he answered as he leaned down and kissed her for the first time in twenty years.