Chapter Thirteen

Ryan

I’m with Alex, sorting through boxes at my parents house when Sophia calls.

“Can we talk?” she says. “Before tonight's performance?”

It’s been almost a week since I took her to chipotle and proposed over a steak burrito, and things have been about as awkward as you can imagine at work. Neither of us have brought it up, but there’s been this weird tension during some of the more intimate scenes, that has made me wonder whether asking her in the first place was the right idea after all.

We’ve married and kissed each other on stage six times so far, and those kisses have increased exponentially in passion, and it’s clear that on stage we have this amazing chemistry, but I’m worried that I’ve jumped the gun on the whole marriage thing and succeeded in nothing but scaring her away because off stage we’ve hardly seen each other, and when we have, neither one of us has dared to mention what is quickly becoming the big fat elephant in the room.

I guess I’ll find out this afternoon but I don’t feel at all confident about it, which sucks balls because if I thought I liked her before that opening night, now I can’t get her out of my head. Those kisses at the end of each performance are like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Just being with Sophia makes every single ounce of my body ache with desire, but when she presses her lips against mine, it takes an inhuman amount of restraint to stop from breaking character, pulling her back into me and whispering softly into her ear exactly what I want to do to her in glorious, x-rated detail. Alex watches me return my cell phone to my pocket and then continues watching me say nothing at all.

“You should have given her a ring”, he says. “Chicks dig rings. I can’t believe you didn’t give her a ring.”

I ignore him and continue raking through a box of my childhood belongings. Spiderman sticker album, deflated football, a plastic medal for swimming that’s faded through age.

“There’s always a bunch of other girls in the world”, Alex says, his hand on my shoulder. “Someone’s bound to say yes. That’s usually my philosophy.”

I put the stuff I want to keep in one pile, the stuff I want to donate in another, the stuff I’m going to throw away into a third, which is exactly what I did five years ago when I first moved out, and then again last year when Dad ‘discovered’ several more of my boxes in the basement that Mom and I had hidden.

“She hasn’t said no yet”, I point out, even though I have every reason to believe that it’s highly likely that she will.

“You can’t blame her”, Alex says holding up a bunch of Judge Dredd magazines and then dumping them in the to keep pile when I give him the nod. “It’s a hell of an ask.”

“It’s a lot of money as well”, I say. “Plus, it means she can stay here long term, you can’t say that’s not appealing.”

“And she gets to marry you”, Alex says ironically.

I dump a whole load of old audition scripts onto the trash pile and then move everything I’m going to throw away into one of the empty boxes. “We’ll have to finish this another time, I’ve got to get into town.”

“The sooner you find out”, Alex says, “The sooner you can get on with finding someone else. You’ve only got six months remember, and I’ve already found the bike that you’re going to buy me with that inheritance money.”

I move the boxes back to where they were, drag the trash pile out to the front of the house and lock the garage door.

“If I buy you a bike, you won’t be able to give me a lift downtown”, I point out.

“It’s a two seater”, Alex says. “And you’ll have your own car by then anyway.”

“I will if she says yes”, I say. “If she says no, I might be moving in permanently.”

We get in his car and Alex reverses up the driveway narrowly missing the box I’ve just left there. “If she says no, I’m not going to let you not get married to anyone else”, he says, eyeballing me suspiciously. “Don’t even think about it. You’re welcome to stay on the sofa for as long as you like, but as your friend and friendly neighbourhood accountant, I’m not going to let you miss out on a million dollars.”

“Minus taxes”, I say, as Alex grinds the gears, shoots out into the road and nearly crashes into an oncoming car. “ And thank God you’re an accountant and not a driving instructor.”

After a perilous journey, in which I decide that I will never buy Alex a motorbike because he’ll kill himself on the first trip he takes with it, he drops me at the end of Sophia’s street.

“Your driving is getting worse, Alex”, I say, keen to get out of the car.

“Thanks, man”, Alex says sarcastically while we carry on the conversation through the passenger side window. “Hey, good luck with everything.”

“She might just want to talk about the play”, I point out. “Or something else entirely.”

“Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock”, Alex says.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the timer running out”, he says with a semi serious face. “The sands of time. You need to give her a deadline, because if she’s going to say no, the quicker you find someone else, the quicker you make bank.”

I don’t think he gets that I’d prefer Sophia over the money any day of the week. “I’ll let you know how it goes”, I say. “You still coming tonight?”

“If I have to.”

“You have to”, I say. “I can introduce you to Marshall, he’ll find you fascinating, plus I think you’re going to fall in love with Tracy, she’s exactly your type, a real ball breaker.”

Alex’s face lights up. “Just how I like them.”

“Don’t kill yourself on the way back home.”

“I’m perfectly safe”, Alex says, “I’ve been accident free for years.”

I watch him put the car momentarily into reverse, before beeping loudly to rejoin the traffic, his hand out of the window to wave at me. How he hasn’t had a major accident yet is beyond me.

I walk to Sophia’s block and buzz the number to her apartment. A moment later I hear her shout down from above. “Hey.”

I look up to see her hanging out of a window near the top of the building, a big smile on her face. “Hey”, I call back, a little surprised to see her so animated.

“You want to come up and see the apartment? I’ve just made coffee.”

“Sure”, I say.

“Great. I’ll buzz you in. Top floor apartment C.”

Sophia disappears back into her apartment and a second later, I hear a loud buzz at the front door. It’s an old block with an elevator that looks like it’s seen better days, wires hanging out of gaps in the walls that probably shouldn’t be there and the kind of paint job that makes me think I’ve travelled back in time. I take the stairs up to the last floor, and before I even need to look for the right apartment, I see Sophia leaning out of her front door and smiling at me.

“Hey”, she says again. “Come in.”

I follow her through the doorway into her apartment, which seems to be a complete contrast to the stairwell I’ve just walked through. It’s modern, spacious, and creatively designed. Not only that, there are two sofas and they are both enormous. “So, this is it”, Sophia says. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thanks”, I say, “you weren’t joking about the sofa.”

“You want a tour?”

“Er, okay, sure”, I say.

“It won’t take long, this is the biggest room in the apartment.”

For the amount of time I’ve spent with Sophia, the fact that we’ve got changed countless times in front of each other, kissed each other more passionately than I’ve ever kissed anyone else in my life, spent hours in bed together during rehearsals, and have essentially spent the best part of the last month in each other’s company, being here in her apartment alone, even though we’re doing nothing out of the ordinary, already seems way more intimate than anything we’ve ever done before.

There’s sexual tension here, and by the look on Sophia’s face, and the way that she’s bouncing around excitedly from room to room, putting off the real reason she’s invited me here, I’m not the only one who’s noticing it.

“The kitchen”, she says, excitedly opening the fridge door. “Alice has a problem with yogurts. Alice’s room”, she says as we move to it, “the bed she sleeps in about once a month. The bathroom.” She pulls back the shower curtain to reveal the bathtub beyond. “The shower takes about three songs on the duck radio to warm up, and that toy is apparently called Eric.”

I follow her to the last room in the house: her bedroom. “And this is where the magic happens”, Sophia says. “The master bedroom.”

“I like it”, I say. “Is it always this clean or did you clean it especially because you knew I was coming round?”

Actually, compared to Alex’s apartment, this place looks like one of those display homes you see on new building sites for prospective owners.

“Don’t worry, I’m not obsessive”, Sophia says, perhaps seeing the look of mild panic in my eyes. “I cleaned up this morning.”

We head back into the living room and each take a sofa. The coffee has already been prepared and is in a french press in the middle of the coffee table next to a patisserie bag full of croissants.

“I got almond, chocolate and plain”, she says. “I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”

“You didn’t have to do that”, I say.

“Ryan, a morning coffee without a croissant is like a wedding ceremony without a kiss”, she says.

“Good point”, I say. “That wouldn’t be right at all.”

Sophia pours coffee into a large mug for me, while I tear the bag open so we can share the croissants. “If this is what you usually do for breakfast, I could easily get used to this. At Alex’s, it isn’t quite as civilized.”

“How’s it going there?” Sophia asks.

“I think I’ve finally worked out how to sleep on the sofa without damaging my spinal cord, which is positive”, I say, “but apart from that, generally awful. I don’t know how Alex puts up with it to be honest. I’ve nearly got my stuff together, so—. I was going through boxes at my parents house when you called. Alex dropped me off.”

“That’s good to know”, Sophia says, blowing the steam off her coffee before drinking it.

“If it’s still okay?” I begin, not quite sure how to continue, “It’s just with that other thing.”

“It’s okay”, Sophia says, “I get it.”

I’m still not sure how she feels or why she’s even asked me to come here so to be on the safe side, I feel like I need to apologize, both for the fact that I haven’t moved in yet and for changing the dynamic between us. “I’m sorry if things have been a little weird between us. I’ve been wondering all week if I did the right thing. Maybe I should have waited until the play was over and we’d got to know each other a bit more.”

Sophia goes into the kitchen and comes back with a knife to cut the croissants into sections.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said”, she says. “About your proposal.”

I watch the knife slide through the pastry as easily as if they were made entirely of butter.

“Okay”, I say, cradling the coffee near my lips like a shield and preparing to hear the worst.

Sophia eases back into the snug of the couch, crosses her legs and regards me with her gorgeous eyes, which happen to be the same color as the chocolate oozing out of the middle of the flaky croissant pastry. For a while she doesn’t say anything, which makes me feel so uncomfortable I have to take a sip of my coffee to break the tension, forget to blow the steam off and have to pretend I don’t burn my tongue.

“I’m sorry, Ryan”, she says, her eyes falling away from me right about the same time my heart feels like it falls down a cliff face. “It’s just—.”

I put the coffee back down on the table, clear my throat and try to pretend I’m not heartbroken. “It’s okay”, I say, worried we’re both about to cry. “It’s my fault. I should never have asked you in the first place. It wasn’t fair to put the pressure on you. Just pretend I didn’t say anything at all, can we do that?”

Her eyes come back up to mine and I can see they are welling with tears. “I didn’t know how to tell you before”, she says. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“That’s okay”, I say, “I’m an idiot. I should have realized it’s not as simple as what we do every day on stage. Just ignore me.” And now I feel about as low as it gets. “Can we forget this ever happened?” I ask.

“I don’t know”, Sophia says. “Now that it’s out there between us. We can try, I suppose, but things are obviously going to be different. We see each other every day, after all.”

I’ve totally fucked up. Not only has Sophia said no, I’ve messed up what was a pretty strong relationship and now any chance of developing it further, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I look up to Sophia who is cradling her coffee in front of what looks like a smile. I have to stare for a long time, just to make sure it is, and the longer I stare the wider it gets. It gets so wide at one point that I see creases develop at the corner of her eyes and the whole thing turn into a laugh. Eventually she has to put down her coffee.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Got you”, Sophia says, and now I’m utterly confused.

“Got me—how exactly?”

“We have to have rules”, Sophia says, “like a proper agreement.”

“Wait, what?”

“You should have seen your face.”

I stare at her blankly, the penny slowly dropping, the mountain emerging from behind a bank of mist. “That wasn’t funny.”

“I wanted to know if you were serious.”

“Of course I’m serious”, I say, still not sure what to think. “Does this mean—?”

“One, you have to be faithful—”, Sophia begins. “I know this isn’t for real, but it’s important to me all the same.”

“Okay”, I say.

“Two, you have to move in”, Sophia says. “And not just onto the sofa.” I’m absolutely stunned. “And then when we get the money we find ourselves an apartment and we move in there together.”

“Okay”, I say.

“And three, we tell everyone we know we’ve been secretly seeing each other since the start of the production, and now we’ve decided to get married.” I don’t know what to say and I think my silence unsettles Sophia a little. “If you still want to, of course.”

“Absolutely, of course, I still do”, I say, “I thought you—. You really had me, that was very good acting.”

Sophia smiles. “I couldn’t make it too easy for you, could I?” she says.

“I can’t believe you’ve said yes.”

Sophia shrugs. “It was a good offer”, she says. “I couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.”

“And the bed?” I ask, “moving in together?”

“We want to make it seem real, don’t we?” Sophia says. “It’s a bit ridiculous getting married and then you sleeping on the sofa, even if it is a fake wedding. It’s not like we’ve not done it at work either, and you’ve already told me you don’t snore.”

“You’re taking this seriously”, I say.

“If you propose to a French girl”, she says, “you’ve got to know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe we’re going to get married. Unless you’re joking, of course. You’re not joking this time, right?”

Sophia laughs. “You were really worried I’d turned you down”, she says. “That’s cute.”

I shrug. “I was just making it look that way so you wouldn’t be hurt”, I lie. “You can still change your mind if you like, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, right”, Sophia says. “It’s too late to back out now. I’ve already decided where we’re going on our honeymoon.”

“Oh yeah?”

Sophia smiles mischievously. “Costa Rica.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Thank you”, I say.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, for saying yes, I guess.”

“You’re welcome”, Sophia says. “It’s absolutely terrifying.”

We laugh together. “You’re not the only one then?”

“Hell no”, she says. “I’m saying yes and I’m not going to change my mind, but that doesn’t mean I’m not shitting myself as well.”

“We’ll have to work out all the boring things like when and where and who we invite. Does it bother you where we do it?”

Sophia shakes her head. “As quick and as painless as possible is what I want. I’m not the kind of girl who needs a white wedding with a thousand guests, and neither of us have got the money to pay for it anyway. Let’s just get the city clerk’s office booked and do it there. When we’ve got the money through we can throw a big party, but all we need is the piece of paper that says we’re officially married.”

“We can do that as soon as you’re ready”, I say, “all we need to do is to apply for a marriage licence and we can get married the next day.”

“It’s that simple?”

I nod. “It’s really that simple.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know”, I say. “I guess we start the process to reclaim the money, and you start the process to apply for a visa.”

“And we live happily ever after?” Sophia asks.

“Exactly”, I say. “Children optional.”

Sophia laughs. “One step at a time”, she says, and I can’t get the smile off my face because I still can’t believe we are doing this. “We should celebrate”, she adds. “It’s not everyday you decide to get married.”

“It is in our case”, I point out. “But if you’re serious about doing this now, we can find out about the marriage licence today and see how long it’ll take to come through. You never know, by the weekend we might be husband and wife.”

“Married before we finish the play?” Sophia asks. “That would make a hell of a story.”

“And the bigger the story the better our chances of proving it’s true”, I add.

“This is going to be fun”, Sophia declares, her coffee cup in the air, ready to cheers against mine.

“Our most challenging roles yet”, I say. “To husband and wife.”

“To husband and wife”,  Sophia repeats and chinks her cup against mine.