22- Forget, Regret
In spite of the fact she hardly had time to rest during the intermission, in spite of her being distracted with frenzied attempts to locate him while onstage, in spite of the fact she was that close to have a breakdown any moment, she gave one hell of a performance during the second act. She got loud ovations after each number, the loudest she had ever witnessed ever since she got into the theater world, and the audience literally rose to its feet during the curtain-call. As she took her final bow with the rest of the cast, her heart fluttered with excitement and satisfaction. She did it. She was going to be a hit.
Then insecurity rushed back in as she hurried back to her dressing-room. She tried to locate Adam above the bustle of actors and dancers that hurried to their dressing-rooms, but he was nowhere to be found. She wondered if he'd do as she told him, no matter how crazy he probably thought she was. God, she hoped he'd find him. She had no idea what she'd do when he would; what she'd say, how she'd act. She honestly wasn't sure how she felt about this. First when he showed up backstage, it felt as if he was some ghost of her past, but the more she thought about it, about him, the more she realized how much she missed him. She missed them all. She just wanted to see him again.
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She had just stepped out of the shower when a knock came at the door. She snatched the robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door and wrapped it around her as she left the bathroom. "Come in!" she called, pulling her hair free of its shower cap. Her heart was racing. Of course, it could be someone else, but somehow she knew that it wasn't.
The door opened, and Adam peaked inside. When he caught sight of what she was wearing he did the slightest step back, as if embarrassed for walking in on her dressed that way. "Miss Johnson, I found him. Would you rather change before-"
"No, that's fine. Let him in."
He seemed to hesitate, but eventually relented. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything."
"Okay. Thanks Adam." She heard their muffled conversation from where they were standing outside her door, but couldn't make it out. Then the door opened slightly wider, and he stepped in. There was uncertainty in his expression as he slowly walked into the room. And reluctance, she later noticed. "Hi Mark."
His look was hollow, empty. "You always manage to boss around everyone, aren't you?" There was clear sarcasm in that question. It was obvious he was hurt by what happened before. She knew he was now trying to hurt her, probably as much as she hurt him before, yet predicting it made her remain indifferent.
"Most of the times," she replied evenly, taking a seat on the small sofa. "How are you, Mark?"
"Let's cut the crap, shall we, Maureen?" he cut her off abruptly. "Why am I here?"
She was taken aback by his tone, in spite of herself; a bit intimidated by the way he was sort of towering over her, standing like that before her. She did her best not to let him see that. "That was going to be my next question. Why are you here?"
He looked away. "It doesn't matter now."
Now she was all the more curious. She wouldn't let it go. She couldn't. "It doesn't?"
"It might have, if you weren't pulling your diva act backstage earlier. Those guys were ready to kick my ass because of you."
There wasn't much she could say without sounding completely lame. He was right. "I'm sorry."
"Guess what, Maureen, sorry is not good enough!" She looked down. She deserved all of it, she knew. But what did he expect her to do when he just showed up there, out of nowhere, after she managed to leave the past behind and move on? She wasn't used to being caught off-guard. Usually, she was the one catching people off-guard. That was what she did best.
She didn't even notice when he approached her. He was kneeling in front of the couch she was sitting on. "You wanna know why I'm here?" he asked, his tone lower, softer, but obviously still wounded. He didn't wait for an answer. "I once told you that when you get into Broadway I'd be there on the front row." She closed her eyes. The memory burnt like fire. "Well, here I am; keeping my promise."
"Did you like the show?" she found herself ask. She wasn't sure why; it just slipped, sort of. As things were at the moment, she really didn't give a damn what he thought about the show.
"Yeah, I did," he replied softly, for a slight second honest and not sarcastic. "My favorite part was during the intermission though."
"I said I was sorry, Mark!" she blurted out, getting up. She felt tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. Damn him.
He didn't say anything for a while. Then she heard him walk over to her, until he was standing right behind her. "Now tell me. What am I doing here? Personally invited to the private dressing-room of the diva herself? I must have done something to deserve the honor." His voice was cold, dripping with sarcasm. This was not the Mark she used to know. This Mark was bitter and full of anger. She guessed he had his reasons, but so did she.
She turned to look at him. Her eyes met his, two icebergs behind his glasses, cold, distant. It felt as if nothing she'd say would be the right thing. "I wanted to clear things out."
"It's a bit late for that, don't you think? Five years too late."
How dared he use that tone on her? How dared he blame her for being too late? "You came here looking for me, Mark, I didn't ask you to do that. And besides, do you think it was easy for me?"
"Easier. You're the one who left."
"You have to know why I left before you-"
"I know why," he said softly. His voice lost its sarcasm.
She looked up at him, confused. He caught her off-guard again. "You… you do?"
Mark slowly nodded. "Joanne told me part of it. When I figured out the rest and came over to talk to you, you were gone." He laughed bitterly. "You can be so stupid sometimes, you know? So damn harsh and stupid."
It didn't sound as if he was sarcastic again, but it still hurt. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"If you weren't in such hurry to leave, you would have learned a thing or two about what you've seen in the loft that day."
She looked at him through narrow eyes. She didn't need him to remind her of that. "I know what I saw."
"No, you don't. This is just the point. But by the time I put all the pieces of the puzzle together, you were gone." He reached over and touched her hand. This slight touch overwhelmed her. It brought back so many memories. "So I'm here, if you wanna know the truth."
A knock came at the door. She pulled her hand away abruptly, startled. "Maureen, we're heading to the party, you comin'?"
"I'll meet you there, you guys, I have to stop at home first!" she called back, grateful that none of them asked to come in.
"Alright! See you later then, don't wait 'till midnight for your grand entry!"
She laughed bitterly. This diva still needed her stage. "I won't." The voices lowered and eventually disappeared down the hall. She looked back at Mark. "We have this party for opening night. I'm supposed to be there." She walked over and took his hand again. He looked surprised, as if he wasn't expecting this. "Look, we need to talk about this. Give me a minute to change, then we can go to my place."
His features softened. She noticed he didn't try to resist or to pull his hand away. "It may take a while. You have a party to get to."
"I'll get there a little later." She looked at him seriously. "I really think we should talk about this," she said, although she wasn't sure how much she wanted to hear what he had to say. 'The truth', as he called it. Mark still looked hesitant. She sighed. "Look, isn't it what you came for? You can't show up here after all this time and say all those things if you don't really mean them, Mark. I have enough on my mind as it is and the last thing I need right now is you, confusing me." She wasn't aware of what she had just let slip, and it was too late to take it back.
If Mark got the implication of this, he didn't show any signs of it. "Fine. Get dressed; we'll go to your place."
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Soon they made their way down the hall and to the stage door. She never got used to that part of the day, although she was slowly getting the hang of it, thanks to those couple of weeks of previews that finished tonight, with their opening. By the sounds that came from the other side, she knew it might take a while before they'd be able to leave. Her fan circle grew bigger over the years, and though her name wasn't yet familiar in the world of Broadway, it was clear to everyone that it was soon to change.
She turned to look at Mark, who was following her lead. "It's gonna be a bit noisy," she warned him.
He shrugged. "You earned it. Enjoy it. I won't stand in your way."
Adam waited by the door, still glancing suspiciously at Mark. He smiled at her though. "Don't you have a party to get to?"
"I'm on my way," she smiled back.
"Don't forget to send kisses to your little one."
From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Mark went pale. Her smile widened. "I never forget, you know that."
"Why don't you bring her over the next weekend? I'll watch her while you're onstage."
She pouted, shaking her head. "I'm not bringing her here, someone might notice how beautiful she is and kidnap her to blackmail me," she said jokingly. Adam laughed. "Night, Adam, see you tomorrow."
"Great reviews, I hear," he said, winking at her.
Only thinking about the midnight reviews gave her goosebumps. "Haven't seen 'em yet. Goodnight!"
There were more people out there than she expected. Their roaring seemed to grow impossibly louder the moment she stepped out. They all called her name, their voices deafening, the flashes from their cameras blinding her. She glanced at Mark. He stood aside, as if to let her take hold on the spotlights, and enjoy her well-deserved praises and applause. A small, subconscious smile curled on his lips, making the traces of his former anger almost unnoticeable. He looked so out of place there, and for a moment she regretted dragging him into this. He didn't belong to this world of spotlights and fame; he never did. She knew that now everyone would begin to wonder who he was. Those things took hours, if not less, to come up, truth or not. She could imagine the wild speculations already, in the gossip sections of next day's papers. The new name on the stages of Broadway was seen leaving the theater with a blonde, scrawny nobody.
"You can wait for me in the car if you want," she told him. "Adam can show you where it is."
"No, that's okay. I don't mind. Do what you gotta do."
"You sure?"
He gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned before turning back to her fans. She could feel his eyes on her back as she signed her name on dozens of programs and photos, and took pictures with some of the people. Someone handed her flowers, and Adam quickly took it for her, saying he'd make sure Miss Johnson would personally get them. Their gazes locked with silent communication. It was time to go. A few more seconds passed before Adam appeared next to her, loyal and protective, making sure she'd get safely into the car that was waiting for her. Mark was already at the back seat when she walked in. Adam closed the door for her and nodded to the driver. Then they took off and disappeared into the chilly New York night, the flickering lights of the flashes and billboards fading behind them, leading their way.
A/N: The last scene was a little Notting Hill like, in case you missed this somehow… Another cliffie! I figured it was the only way to get you to review, you guys, so please don't fail me!