Bob watched the recording of the performers at a comedy club on his computer. He hadn't done any stand up in years, but he liked to catch some of the newer performers to get a feel for where the comedy world was now. He had started the same way, back when almost no comedy club acts were shown on television. Now, with the internet, they could be found everywhere.
Apart from the computer, the small office held a few other things that reflected Bob's work. There were a couple of Golden Globes on one shelf (for acting and writing), accompanied by an Emmy and even a Mark Twain Award. What it lacked was an Academy Award, although Bob always left a space for one just in case. Several pictures adorned the walls, showing various group shots of the casts of several of his movies – and one of him meeting the President of the United States. One was just an autographed picture of Lenny Bruce, but Bob was perfectly fine not having his own face in it.
On the opposite wall sat a shelf with many copies of his movies on DVD, all unopened and autographed. He kept a supply handy for charity auction requests and anyone bold enough to come to his office. His desk itself, besides the computer, held a tiered shelf which held several letters in the 'In' section awaiting responses, and nothing in the 'Out' area. In addition, there was a manuscript that sat on one corner, with a coffee stain and several dog-eared pages.
The final item on his desk rang. He picked it up and answered, "You've reached the Definitely Untalented Agency, Bob speaking." There never was anyone else TO answer the phone except the voicemail, but he was prone to occasionally using a fake name if an amusing one came to mind. The name of the business was real, a whimsy he allowed himself.
"Talent doesn't pay – popularity does," the voice on the other end responded.
Bob recognized the voice of his agent. "Nathan Trask, you'd know that better than anyone. Any updates on either?" He hadn't talked to Nathan for a few weeks, but that wasn't unusual.
"For good or bad, you're as talented as you'll ever be. As for the popularity, Paramount called – they want you to do a commentary track for the next release of 'Not My Problem' they're kicking out next year."
The comedy was one of Bob's more favorite roles. "Sign me up. Send me the details when you get them." Appearing in fewer films now, he found that these added tracks and extras seemed to boost his films viewing numbers. It would mean that he'd have to watch himself act again while he recorded it, but that was the price you had to pay.
"New Line called again to ask for a commentary on 'Maskarade'. I told them 'No' again."
Bob sighed. "Thanks, Nathan. Let Amy or Robin handle it – it's their faces on the screen anyway." Amy Adams and Robin Williams had starred as the leads in the film.
"They already have them. They wanted a third voice. I told them to ask the director."
"Good luck with that. I think cinematographer would have been a better choice and he's out of rehab now. But thanks for pushing back for me." Bob had told Nathan under no circumstances would he revisit the film again – he had written the screenplay and it was just too personal to share directly.
"That's what I'm here for. There, ah, is one other thing," Nathan said hesitantly.
"No celebrity rodeos, basketball, or hockey. I'll golf if the weather is nice."
"No, it's not that. I had a fan contact me that wants to talk to you."
It didn't happen as often as it used to, but Bob still got the occasional fan that wanted to meet him or talk to him. Or take his picture. Or tell him about an investment opportunity. The worst ones were the young comedians that wanted help to get into the business. He would love to help, but he didn't have the connections he used to and was more of a name than an actual presence in the comedy business. "Professional or personal?"
The connection was muffled for a moment and then Nathan spoke. "She said she met you in Japan."
Bob's heart skipped a beat. When it came down to it, there were only two women he met in Japan. The first was the actress Kelly Strong. He had worked with her on a project since then, so that couldn't be it.
There was only one other.
"Is it…" Bob started to ask.
"Yeah, I think so," Nathan replied quickly. "She's actually in my office right now. She tracked me down to get hold of you. I think you understand why I didn't try to get ahold of you at home."
Bob thought quickly. He hadn't been trying to avoid her, but they hadn't had each other's phone numbers for many years. They still emailed, but the last time was…was…over two years ago, he figured. Just friends that had drifted apart as life took them in different directions. There was a time when…no, no sense in going down that self-destructive path.
"I don't have you on speaker, but she knows I'm talking to you. Do you have time to talk?" he asked, giving Bob a chance to opt out.
"No, go ahead and put her on." Bob waited with butterflies in his stomach. They had only talked on the phone once in the ten years since Japan.
"Hi."
It was her.
"Um, hi." Bob had imagined talking to her again one day but never expected it and found himself completely unprepared.
"Bob, I was watching Showtime last night and a movie called Maskarade came on and I was just about to turn it off when I saw your name in the opening credits. So I watched it."
"Uh oh." He waited for Charlotte to respond and all he heard was her hum. "It's okay, Nathan knows," he told her softly. "He's the only one."
"That was us, wasn't it?" she asked before he could hear something being opened and shut. The phone crackled again.
"Bob, it's Nathan. Listen, I'm going to go wash my car or do laundry or something. I'll be back in an hour.
Bob could hear Charlotte whisper "Thank you" to Nathan on the other end and then there was a door closing in the background and the phone rustled once more. "He's gone. Please Bob, I have to know. How much of it was true?"
"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. Dante."
"Tell me, I need to know. Charlotte."
"Well," Bob said as he stalled to look through his desk drawers. There should have been…there it was. He pulled out a box of tissues as insurance. "Some of it was fiction." He had never told her how he really felt because he was afraid. Afraid that if she found out she would blame herself. Afraid that it might sabotage some good things that were happening for her. Afraid – afraid how she felt about him. There were no good answers for him to hear without feeling that sting, only increasingly bad ones.
"Bob, please – you always played it straight with me, even when I wasn't ready to hear it yet. What was made up, and what was real?"
Bob had tried to obscure some of the details in the film by changing the professions and location of the characters. "I've never worked in a laboratory. You've never worked for me as a secretary. You've never been to jail that I know of, and you weren't single when I met you."
"And I…I mean, the movie me…found someone and got married at the end."
"You and Denny aren't together?" Bob asked. "I wanted to put in a happy ending for you and I just assumed you'd gotten married."
"We are, we just haven't gotten around to getting married yet, but we're thinking about setting a date for next year. Almost six years together now. Denny is a fully licensed mechanic now, and he can get a job just about anywhere."
"I caught some of your nature videos. Very nice. Philosophy, faith, geography, fauna and flora. 'Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these', although if I remember right you were looking over a meadow of daisies."
"Thanks. I'm putting together a portfolio of my stills and we're thinking maybe we can get a publisher interested in doing a book tie-in," Charlotte said. "Ironic, when I was married it was John who was the photographer while I was supposed to be the philosopher. Now I take photographs."
"Not just that, I've listened to those videos. You throw in some philosophy there too," Bob added. "It makes a really good combination. Sounds like it's all coming together nicely. I'm happy for you. For both of you, I really am."
"'I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees'. You told me about that quote. I still think about it when I'm on a trail. Wait. No, you got me off-track there talking about myself. You did that on purpose, didn't you!"
"Well, that's how our emails used to go. You would vent and I would try to provide support and encourage you the best I could. I'd ask questions but by the time you wrote back you'd be talking about the next problem or adventure you had. I'm not complaining, just recognizing a pattern is all. If I really needed an answer or something I'd ask again."
"Fine. We're still the people we used to be. But Bob – is the rest real? Please tell me you added stuff to make it more dramatic."
"I'll never say anything that could make you feel…"
"I've gone out of my head after watching the movie, not knowing!"
"Um, I didn't add much; after all, they say write what you know. There were probably a few details that got left out, but pretty much what you saw was what happened when it comes to what I was feeling and the reasons why. The woman that my wife dated for over a year actually stayed with us; my wife and her stayed in the guest bedroom."
"And you were alone?"
"The dog slept with me. But I liked the woman; Helen had an adorable accent, was fun and taught me how to play cribbage. I left that part out because no one would believe it. The part about dreaming of you was made up by the studio - I almost never dream about anything romantic; it's always me traveling somewhere. In reality my thoughts of you were more like flights of fancy and imagination than anything but dreaming sounds better onscreen according to them. I knew Lydia would never see it, so it was pretty safe to include those issues about her. And even though I think Amy did a good job, I still think she couldn't pull off being 'alive' like you. Sorry."
"Oh, Bob." Now they were both reaching for tissue. Fortunately, Nathan had pulled out a box for her before he left. "Sorry for what?"
"Everything. After you told me about Denny, I just fell apart. I still wasn't going to tell anybody anything ever, but Nathan caught me before I could get myself together and I was vulnerable, so I told him. He was the one that suggested I write it down as a story as a kind of therapy. I just dumped everything into the story, then spent the next year editing it almost every day. I submitted it to a producer just so I could write it off for taxes, and I never expected anyone to be interested. And when it got picked up, I was speechless. I honestly didn't think you or anyone would ever see it - it never even made the theaters except in Des Moines, I think. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but I couldn't take the risk because nothing good could have come from it. Nothing at all."
Charlotte blew her nose and thought before responding. "I'd like to think I could have handled it then, but I don't know. Maybe not. I was such a mess, and some days it was so hard I wanted to give up. And you were always there, either with a joke or a sincere answer. Or both. Sometimes I'd get an email from you out of the blue and it was just what I needed to keep going. For a while, you really did rescue me. Did it really take you a year to get over me?"
Bob lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "You and Denny started out as friends and it grew into much more than that. That's the right way if you want something that will last through your lifetime - I know. The truth is, I never did get over you. I just learned to live with it. I'm not going to embarrass either of us by saying how much I still think of you. I just try my damnedest to see it for what it really was, not what I pretended inside."
There was another shared round of crying. "If only things…" Charlotte managed after a minute or four.
"No!" Bob shouted as he sobered quickly, then calmed down. "Sorry for yelling. Please don't say the next part or try to figure any 'what if' scenarios. I know you want to say something that sounds like a compliment or make me feel better, and I appreciate it. But it won't do that. I've had a hard enough time building myself back up where I can tell myself it's not me and it's just the way things are based on my choices and fate. I won't set up a fantasy world again because I don't think I could come back when it collapsed. I'm not going to be inventing time travel or alternative universes or find a way to clone you - because I still think you need someone like Denny - not me. It may be hard to hear, and it's even harder to say. But it's true."
"Okay. Not okay really, but I don't know what else to say. I guess it sounded better in my head than in your heart. There's no way I could be where I am now if it wasn't for you. Believe it or not, I don't want to ever hurt you either."
"I never believed you would, but I've run this conversation a million times in my head, and that part never goes right no matter how I change it. Remember, I thought about it for years. It's not my destiny or your fate."
"Can you at least tell me how does the rest of the conversation go? Not all one million, just a typical one. We never had this talk in the film."
"You ask me about Lydia, I tell you we're still about the same - she has her good and bad days. You mention my muse coming back, and I tell you how I had to lure it back by leaving a trail of M&Ms - the ones without the peanuts - to trick it. You give me an update on how you're getting along better with your family, some ideas on a trip you're planning later in the year and how living in Colorado has been great but you're thinking maybe the Arizona desert might be calling you next. You're happier than you've ever been in your life. I think you mention the wedding in about half. I tell you that I can finally look up at the stars at night and enjoy their beauty again. We dance around the subject about missing each other, implying it more than really saying it."
"Then I'll say it – I miss you, Bob. Except for Denny, I haven't met anyone that was so…what's that word you used? Alive? You're you, one hundred percent, and there are times when I ask myself what would you say about this or that. And you know what? I can almost always guess. I mean, I used to…I've haven't been very good about keeping in touch. I even lost your email after I changed phones. Sorry."
"No need to apologize. I've changed phones too. But I still have every single email and picture you ever sent. I just didn't want to bother you, and I don't want to cause trouble with you and Denny."
"Denny knows everything. You won't bother him – I think you'd get along great. He's even waiting out in the car while we talk. Bob?"
"Yes?"
"Can we be friends again?"
"Charlotte – you were never ever not my friend." Ten minutes later, neither had said anything more but Charlotte was down to a half a box of tissue and Bob had only three sheets left.
"Thanks," she finally said.
"I want you to know that even as much hurt as I have put myself through – and I did it all on my own – having you in my life in whatever way I can makes up for it," Bob said as his voice broke.
It took another ten minutes before either could speak again and Bob was on paper towels now while Charlotte was getting toward the bottom of her box. "Would you come to our wedding when we set it?" she asked.
"That's probably not a very good idea. I'm just going to be a blubbering idiot if I do. I can stay home and just be a regular idiot."
"I want you there. If you have to, sit in the back row of the church with sunglasses on. I'll tell people you're just an actor that I met once and that you're weeping for joy. Promise me."
"There you go spreading lies about me again. Thanks, we'll see. No promises."
A/N: Okay, now I have to conclude it in the next chapter.