Sorry isn’t good enough in romance films. Sorry does not cut the romantic mustard. No. At precisely the ninety-five per cent mark of a romance film, one of the characters has to make a Grand Gesture to make up for the aforementioned Big Mistake. These gestures usually include killer lines, dramatic weather, flash mobs, mad dashes through busy places and heartfelt speeches.
And they always, always pay off.
A lesser known cliché, known as “The Dream Denial”, often goes hand in hand with The Grand Gesture. Usually the spurned lover has used their heartbreak to do something amazing with their lives. Maybe bag a dream job, or accept an offer to move abroad. Whatever it is, this dream conflicts with the couple’s ability to be together. But, as long as the Grand Gesture is big enough, the lover is willing to let go of their dreams and fall into their lover’s arms. Who needs dreams when you’ve met the love of your life? Isn’t that the ultimate dream anyway?
I stood outside Flicker for a long time, waves of nostalgia crashing over me. It had only been a month and yet my time here still felt like it was the past. I cradled my silk shirt over my arm and looked up at the posters displaying this week’s current films.
I hadn’t heard of any of them. Oddly enough, I hadn’t watched a film for a while. And, now my A-starred Media coursework was done, I didn’t think I’d be watching romance films for a long time. I took a deep breath, summoning the courage and energy I’d spent the last month building up, then I walked up to the big entrance doors and pushed through them.
The lobby was empty.
“LouLou? I’m here,” I called out. “Bearing highly flammable uniform with a stain I couldn’t seem to wash out.”
Only silence replied. Odd. The bar was empty, the staffroom empty. I glanced up at the rota to see who’d taken over my shifts. Some girl called Lauren. I wrinkled my nose, not liking the feeling of being replaced.
“LouLou?” I called up the stairs, but still nothing. So I pushed through the heavy doors of Screen One.
I wasn’t expecting candles.
“What the hell?” I said, stopping in shock.
And there he was. Him. Harry. Flickering in a hundred tea lights…that smile…that face. I was crying instantly and he stepped through the flames and touched my face. I’d been so strong. I’d managed a whole month. But his touch melted me and I felt powerless.
“Can you just stay?” he begged.
I couldn’t look at him. If I did, my heart would win. So I looked everywhere else but at him. I stared at the candles adorning every available surface, at the giant cinema screen behind him. Rose petals scattered the aisle. Of course he’d used bloody rose petals. Harry’s thumb rubbed my cheek again. He whispered sorry again. My face, the traitor, leaned into his touch. Finally, I looked up at him.
Those eyebrows. He raised one, like he knew. There was still so much longing and love there.
“Please?”
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what the “right” answer was. If there even was one. Oh God, I’d missed him. Just his smell, now, filled me up whole, made everything feel right. His touch, him, he felt so right. He was so right. But what he had done…
“Audrey? It’s less than ten minutes, I promise. Then you can go.”
I looked up into his eyes, knowing that, by doing so, I was surrendering. Somehow I was smiling. “What will take less than ten minutes?”
His grin grew wider, his ego filling in the gaps inside of me. “Take a seat.”
I slowly cottoned on as he led me to one of the best seats in the cinema. Middle. Aisle. Best view. He sat me down. Then ran down through the ocean of candles and came back cradling a giant cardboard box of popcorn. “With extra cinnamon dust!” he exclaimed.
I took it, our fingers brushing, the feeling short-circuiting the section of my brain marked Sense.
“Please, just, stay here,” he said. Then he was off through the candles again, leaping over them with his spindly legs, racing up the stairs. I heard the doors close behind me. I was alone, surrounded by flickering light, clutching overpriced popcorn, wondering what the hell was going on and why I was putting up with it when the screen flickered into life and then…then I got it.
A fake film certification popped up, glowing green. It was rated 12A. The title: The Apology. A warning underneath. May contain some cheesy scenes that cynical viewers will find distressing.
Because Harry had made me a movie. And there he was. On the screen. Filling it with his teeth and charm. Beaming across the cinema in a pool of yellow light. He held up a stack of giant white cards in front of him and Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah” started from the speakers. Harry on the screen lifted up a stack of handwritten signs – just like that scene with Keira Knightley in Love Actually.
Audrey, the first sign read as the song floated around the candle-filled cinema.
Harry pulled another page to the front. I am so sorry I hurt you.
And another. I will never stop being sorry.
And it will never happen again.
Tears poured down my face, the popcorn lay forgotten on my lap.
I know you’ve had to watch a lot of romance films recently.
He winked as he pulled another sheet of card forward. And I know you’re not a fan.
But I thought maybe…
…hopefully…
I could use them to prove to you how much I love you.
Because I really do love you.
He looked right down the camera lens, smiling with so much pride. And here’s the proof.
The music faded out and then faded into “Kissing You” by Des’ree. I knew that song because…because…
Because Harry’s face was now much bigger on screen and he was staring at me through a fish tank. Just like in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet. I say “fish tank”, but he had to be in the London Aquarium or something because an actual shark floated in front of him and he jumped and I found myself laughing through my tears. Then it cut out again, to a shot set up in a dance studio, the walls lined with mirrors. Harry now stood, head down, in the middle of the wooden floor. And then “(I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life” came on and Harry launched into the beginning of the Dirty Dancing finale dance. He was terrible. My mouth dropped as he spun and leaped around the studio, hardly keeping in time, but the steps were roughly the same as the film’s. And, when it couldn’t get any more surreal, LouLou’s Mohawk appeared. She floated up in the corner of the screen, cradling a giant watermelon over her head with the words He’s sorry written across it, winked into the camera, then floated back down again… We cut away. This time Harry was in his flat with LouLou and all the guys. Everyone wearing party hats. I felt instantly ill as I looked for Rosie but she wasn’t there and my stomach relaxed.
“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, FIVE…” they all yelled behind Harry as he walked towards the front of the shot, smiling shyly.
“Now, Audrey.” He spoke into the camera, his cone party hat off to one side. “I would say something here vaguely along the lines of when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want…hang on… If I finish that sentence I’m going to have to pay a lot of money to the creators of When Harry Met Sally but—”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Tad, LouLou, Jay and Rob erupted behind him and all started singing “Auld Lang’s Syne”.
“But I don’t have that kind of money,” Harry continued. “So I’ll have to use my own script. Audrey, I love you. I’ve never loved anyone before, and I can’t imagine ever loving anyone else…”
It cut again. This time to a shot filmed in sepia tone – all old-fashioned and yellowed. Harry was standing in exactly the same spot but he wasn’t wearing a party hat any more. He wore a period costume, with a ruffled blouse. He’d even pasted on sideburns.
He stared right out at me. “Audrey, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” he said, just like Mr Darcy says it.
Then, the film cut again. He was still in period costume but he was in our local swimming pool. LouLou and the others were bobbing around in the water on foam floats from the Sunday fun swim, yelling, “Help! Help! Iceberg! Fuck you, iceberg!” Harry looked down at his ye-olde clothing, then cheekily looked back at the camera, and said, “Now, apparently it really does it for girls if I do this…” And, with that, he dived into the swimming pool just like Colin Firth in the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. His head emerged and he switched roles, suddenly re-enacting Jack from Titanic. A novelty float bobbed past and he grabbed it and tried to climb onto it but kept falling off.
“I’M NOT GOING TO TRY VERY HARD TO GET ONTO THIS LIFESAVING DEVICE,” he yelled, in the world’s worst American accent. “AND NOW I’M GOING TO FREEZE TO DEATH TO PROVE MY LOVE TO YOU.”
I was beyond laughing and crying at this point. All I could do was watch, mesmerized, as the most creative, beautiful, funny, poignant romance film of all time continued to play on the cinema screen. Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” came on and I rolled my eyes. That song! But then the scene cut again, to Harry, wearing a long beige coat and standing outside my house. MY house. Holding a giant boombox just like John Cusack in Say Anything. Apart from the fact he was blasting Celine Dion out of it. It was broad daylight and our neighbour, Mildred, shuffled over and complained, “Turn that down, please!” Another cut and Harry was in Gatwick airport, the camera struggling to keep up with him as he ran through the terminal, leaping over suitcases and dodging customers, running, running. He wheezed into the camera, “I had to buy a plane ticket to freakin’ Manchester to get airside for this shot.” And I laughed before I heard security in the background saying, “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FILM IN AIRPORTS, PUT THE CAMERA DOWN NOW.”
And, finally, there was Harry standing in the rain. Drenched. And it wasn’t dramatic rain like in films. Just grey drizzle but rather a lot of it. And a determined pigeon trying to get off with another pigeon in the background. Harry smiled, shrugged and said, “You always have to include some rain, don’t you, Audrey?” The camera zoomed in, so it was just his face. His smile. Rain running off it. Him blinking it away as he spoke. “Audrey, I love you. Please forgive me. Being with you makes me feel like I’m in the movies. I honestly, truly, want you to be my happily ever after. Please…”
The screen went dead. The movie was over. I put my head into my lap, tears well and truly back now. And, when I lifted it, Harry was there. Real Harry. Serious Harry. Crouching in the aisle, clutching my hand, saying, “Do you forgive me?”
I gently tugged the collar of his shirt and I kissed him, pulling him towards me. Every bit of me needing him. He sort of fell on top of me but he kissed me back. It was full of meaning and feelings and our tears ran off our faces and merged before dripping off our chins. It was the best kiss of my life. The most real kiss of my life. Between two people just being there – raw and honest – just kissing like the universe would end if they stopped.
Tiny fragments of myself fractured all over when I broke off the kiss.
And I said the truth.
“I can’t forgive you, Harry,” I whispered in his ear, my voice cracking. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Because I couldn’t forgive it. I couldn’t forget it. That’s just me. I’d seen too much pain from love. I couldn’t be with someone who had stung me so sharply so early on. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t…romantic enough to work through it. Because what I’d learned was, love isn’t just a feeling. Love is a choice too. And you may not be able to help your feelings, but you are responsible for the choices you make about what to do with them. Dad had loved Mum. He had fallen for her hard. Then they’d grown old, grown dull, and he’d developed feelings for Jessie. He chose to act on those feelings. He chose to rip our family apart. He could’ve chosen not to. So many people choose not to. And Harry…Harry…he chose to drink too much that night. He chose to betray me. Even if he was drunk, even if he regretted it, even if he was sorry. I loved Harry. I felt it so hard, so deeply, that I was sure it would never go away. A part of me would always love him. The boy with the teeth, who made me a Hollywood ending. My love was something I couldn’t help, that I felt so deeply it was a scar.
But I was choosing to walk away from that. Because my heart…my heart was too fragile for someone who had chosen to break it.
He looked up at me, his face filled with horror. “What! I don’t understand. I thought…”
I nodded, crying so hard none of my face was dry. “I know… I do love you. I do…” I choked on my words. “But I can’t be with you. I can’t be with someone who cheated on me. It’s not going to work. Us…we’re not going to work. I’m not going to change my mind about this.”
“No, Audrey!”
I nodded more determinedly. “Yes. I thought maybe our relationship was different. Maybe it was, for a little while. But I’m not giving you the opportunity to break my heart again, Harry. Maybe this time you’ve broken your own too and maybe you won’t do anything like this again. I’m not willing to take that chance though.”
He didn’t fight it.
Instead his face collapsed onto the armrest and then he jolted up and grabbed me into a hug. We squeezed each other so hard we almost couldn’t breathe, salting each other’s shoulders, saying goodbye.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For the film. It was amazing. I hope you get all your dreams. You are so talented, Harry. I’ve always thought so.”
“You are too.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled his smell one last time, using up all the moment when I could touch him, be this close to him, have this access to him. This was going to be the last moment in my life where I’d be able to, where it would be appropriate. I drank him in, trying to savour it, knowing my memory would never recall it properly, never do it justice. It was a fleeting moment of beauty, of romance, of love, and like that…it was gone. I stood up, my feet shaking. I accidentally knocked over the popcorn.
“Whoops,” I said, tilting my head. “Sorry. You’re going to have to clean that up.”
He stood with me, wiping his eyes, putting a brave face on it. Like we all do. When the moments to be honest about our feelings have passed, when it’s appropriate to play manners again. “Nothing I’m not used to.”
“Do you have any credits you can roll to give me some music to walk out to?”
His eyes were so sad but he still smiled. “Nope. I was relying on us making out heavily at this moment. Anyway,” he shook his head, “this may sound cheesy but, I didn’t think you and me were ready for credits yet. I didn’t think… I hoped…we still had a few more scenes.”
I reached out and wiped a tear from his cheek. “We do,” I said. “We have so many scenes left. Just not with each other.”
“Cheesy line, Winters.”
“Oh, you can talk Mr Ikea Now Has A National Shortage of Tea Lights.”
And, like everything with us, despite everything with us, it ended on laughter.
I stepped over the candles, I left my uniform on the counter and pushed through the doors. The bright spring sunshine disoriented me and hurt my eyes, like it always does when you step out of a cinema. Emerging into the real world. Where the lines aren’t scripted, where the characters’ motives don’t always make sense, where the lighting isn’t flattering, where boring days are things you have to endure rather than skip past in a montage, where the couples don’t always work it out, where the rain makes your hair frizz, where love is sometimes complicated and hard and dull and painful and grey and ever-changing and compromised and flimsy, rather than only perfect and soulmates and kisses in the rain and knowing they’re going to live happily ever after.
It is both.
Every love affair is always a mixture of both.
You just don’t see both in romance movies.
The only love affair I needed to invest in right now was one with myself. Spend some time with me. Figuring out myself and why I picked the relationships I did. I was holding out my heart to me. Because I’d realized I was the only person who could give me a happily-ever-after.
My phone buzzed, and I dug it out of my pocket.
Mum: Car all packed. Wales here we come.
Road trip!
And, the final shot is of me smiling as I reply. Then I put my phone back into my pocket, and I walk down the street. The camera pans out slowly as I merge into the crowd. Becoming, slowly (and with a killer end song of your choice) just another face. Another normal human. Whose love story is over…for now.