The Beginning

Ch. 35 - The shock

Without warning, she lowers her lids again, leaning ever so subtly towards him, slowly, willing him to take it all away. 

He returns the same sense of longing, and for a moment, he almost tossed caution to the wind, until a flash of light behind his own closed eyes brings attention to his imagination and, more importantly, the present tense. Taking another look, he sees her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her mouth in the shape of a horseshoe.

Did I imagine that? It doesn't really matter.

His lips meet her forehead instead, and her sadness rushes forth again.

Later he'd replay this moment in his mind's eye, second guessing what was real and what was in his head. Right now he knows the only stand-up choice to make is to not twist grief into something she might regret, that they both might regret.

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

November 1....

It is eerily quiet when Sandra walks across the lot the next morning. She'd barely had the energy to climb out of bed, leaving herself only enough time to throw on a college sweatshirt and black yoga pants, hiding behind her dark sunglasses, despite the sun having barely breeched the horizon. The usual busy chatter on set is replaced with quiet whispers and covert glances as she walks past. Her eyes are still a bit puffy after spending most of the previous day lying in the arms of the only other person she knew that understood what she was going through.

He was calm, serene for most of the time she was there in his room, leaving her feeling almost foolish at her emotional display. While she felt great affection for Jude, and had worked with him more recently than anyone else, she knew that this was nothing compared to the brotherhood he shared with Keanu. What right did she have to even express this degree of despair in his presence? Every time she'd toss out a self-deprecating remark, though, trying to lighten the mood, he would allow none of it.

"Grief is healthy and personal. Sadness is proof of love and a life well-lived. We can't know love of another without also accepting eventual grief."

Why did he always talk in riddles? She wondered as he spoke. It was all too much for her.

"What are you, the celebrity mourning guru or something?" Old habits flow strong, and Sandra felt most at ease on a steady diet of wit, sarcasm and humor. "Is this part of my SAG benefits?"

She elbows him in the side, but he was unflinching: remaining patient with her satire, never allowing her to push him entirely away but always providing her "enough" space. She was taken aback by how even-keeled he appeared given the circumstances. He was aloof, but somehow also present. As the day turned into early evening, she could feel herself absorbing his calm, moving in the direction of accepting what was unacceptable—he is gone.

"Jude was such a unique human being, I mean, no one I've ever met before has been so kind, so calm, so spiritual, so, so...so connected to everyone he met. He couldn't ignore the plight of anyone, he had to repair them, help them reach their apex," she shared with Gesine last night, after returning from the Chateau Marmont. "I've never known anyone like that before, until I met Keanu. They're like twin spirits or something, I don't know. It's weird."

The only sounds she hears, now, as she walks across the lot are the chirps of morning birds, papers rustling, errant loose rocks under her shoes and the occasional hum of a golf cart. She mostly kept her glances to the ground. Even Bob is quiet as she walks past, standing unnaturally still, looking straight ahead.

She heads toward her trailer but her feet take her to his trailer instead. It is dark, still, seemingly undisturbed. She looks at her watch, it is six o'clock. She isn't late but she's also not early. Jiggling the doorknob, she sees it is still locked. Rather than ask Bob for assistance to get in, she turns and sits on the step, her posture loose and her hands folded in her lap.