Greg's POV
Actor Gregory Grayson hospitalized for alcohol related accident.
I read the headline as the anchor reads out a bunch of random details: the name of the club, the date, the eyewitness accounts. Then it's mentioned I woke up, and that reportedly I will make a quick recovery.
My manager comes into the room and rushes for the remote at my bedside as soon as he catches glimpse of the T.V. screen. He sets it down on the other side of the room, out of my reach.
"What's this bullshit?" I ask him.
"It's the news. You know how it is. They just talk about whatever," he shrugs it off.
"But you're not going to clarify things?"
"I did. I told them you're fine now."
"I mean about the incident. They said I was aggressive and violent."
"Listen, Grayson. There were a lot of people there. Word got out. I can't do anything about it."
"What about that shitbag?"
"The producer is letting you off easy. He's still offering you a spot on his movie as long as you cooperate."
"Cooperate?"
"Listen, Grayson. This will blow over after a while, and then we can get back to whatever we were doing. It's not like this small thing will ruin your career or anything. You're already too popular. Your fans won't give a shit after a while. Some of them probably don't give a shit right now."
"You're saying he wants me to take the blow?"
"Well, yeah. But it's only a small one to your reputation at most. Being blacklisted from his films and all of his producer friends will be even worse. Trust me on this."
"He can fuck off with his fucking movies. Did you not see how he forces himself on women?"
"It was a misunderstanding. Women always come onto him, so he's just used to being a little flirty-"
"Are you excusing his behavior?"
"I'm not. I'm just saying it was a misunderstanding. Besides, you're fine now."
I feel my face get hot and I stop for a moment to breathe in.
"It's a good thing the tiny coma didn't mess with your mobility. We need to start shooting as soon as possible. I've got another project lined up-"
"I'm not doing it," I put it simply.
"You're not doing it?" he scoffs. "Are you trying to ruin your career? This movie is what is going to give people something else to talk about."
"I'm fucking tired. I don't want to."
He heaves in, but his breath cuts short and suddenly, his palm flies down onto the table.
"I FUCKING MADE YOU! DON'T FORGET-"
A knock at the door interrupts him.
"Come in," he grumbles.
The door slowly creaks open and Beatrice's head pops in. She cautiously looks from me to my manager before walking in.
"We'll discuss this later," he sighs, leaving in a rush and brushing past Beatrice.
She waits until the door closes behind her to approach me.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing she says to me, her hang hanging in front of her.
"Why are you even sorry?" I sigh, shifting a bit in my bed.
"I'm sure you've seen the news. I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I want to say what happened, but my agency is stopping me, and I'm not sure if anyone would even believe me," she sniffles, her hands going up to her face, but they're shielded by the curtain created by her hair.
"Beatrice," I gently call out to her, which makes her raise her head to look up at me. As our eyes meet, a tear rolls down her cheek. "Do you love acting?" I ask her.
She nods earnestly.
"Well, I hate it. It makes me miserable."
Beatrice's eyes widen at my words and she goes completely silent, no longer sniffling.
"I wanted a way out for a while now, and I think this is a good time... I'll speak up about what happened while I'm at it, but you have to stay out of it. Don't get involved. Don't be involved with me anymore."
"But-" Beatrice begins to protest.
"Just worry about yourself. Protect yourself. Because in this industry, no one else will..."
"You did," she says. "You stood up for me... so thank you."
Her eyes water and she takes a deep breath, tilting her head back to hold back the tears.
"Thank you for everything, really," she sniffles, wiping at her eyes. "How embarrassing. I was going to come in here to confess how I felt, how much I worried about you, how happy I am that you're okay, and how much I felt about you, but now you're telling me to stay away..." Her voice breaks and she buries her face into her hands.
"You'll always be a good friend to me-" I tell her.
"I didn't even get to confess, but you're already rejecting me," she chuckles softly.
"Beatrice... I'm grateful to have met you in this shithole. I just stand stand it here anymore," I admit.
"So you're leaving?"
"Yeah, I am."
"They'll give you a hard time."
"It won't be as hard as staying here."
Beatrice nod and smiles at me, her wet eyes twinkling from the beams of sunlight shooting in from the window.
"Well, since I won't see you around anymore... Thank you for everything. I wish you the best," she tells me.
"I'll see around...on screens though."
She chuckles in response.
"Thank you for being my friend here," I tell her.
She nods and tries to respond, but tears start to fall again, so she hurriedly flashes me one last smile before leaving the room.
Finally, the room is quiet again. I close my eyes and hope to drift away from all consciousness, but it's impossible. I was now aware of my reality again, and my persisting existence made my head heavy rather than light.
I'm leaving, but to where? I'm living, but for what? I wanted so long for everyone to leave me alone, to let me live in peace. But now that I've cut these ties, nothing moves me. Whether I was aimlessly running or now standing still in place, I am no closer to any real destination.
How pathetic.
In the dead silence of the room, I hear the door knob click open and the slight patters of shoes. I slowly open my eyes, clearing away the messy spread of thoughts in the front of my mind for now.
"Greg," Wendy beams as she sees me look over, two large totes in both her hands. "Did we wake you up?"
"No. I was just laying," I reply, adjusting my bed to help me sit more upright. Wendy quickly sets down the bags to rush over and adjust my pillow for me.
Vincent rolls in a bit later with a baby stroller and a small duffel swung over his shoulder. He sees me and does a polite nod and I nod back.
The child in the stroller swings her legs about as she's carted in, however they're too stubby to touch anything. Annoyed, she lets out a squeal and sticks her hand out, clenching and unclenching her fists.
"Be patient, sweetie," Wendy tells her, which triggers a pout across the baby's face, and she lets another squeal and hard kick that slightly shakes the stroller.
Vincent doesn't say anything and just squats in front of her, crossing his arms across his chest. She immediately responds by halting her kicks and sits back, relaxing so that her head tilts to the side and her ribbon tied tuft of hair flops over too. She laughs, revealing the two rows of pink gums.
"She's a daddy's girl," Wendy sighs as she walks over to retrieve one of the totes she had set down.
"That, or she already figured out you're a pushover," I joke.
Wendy pouts, her expression similar to the child.
"Push my buttons and I'll let you starve," she warns as she pulls out tupperware, neatly but completely filled with various homemade foods.
"You know the hospital feeds me right?"
"Nothing good though. How're you supposed to recover off of stale bread and jello?"
Vincent starts unbuckling the baby from her seat and she excitedly reaches out to him, grasping at his shirt with her tiny hands. He holds her to his chest, so that she's looking directly me over his shoulder. She's got her mother's plump, rosy cheeks but her father's deep green eyes.
"He's Uncle Greg," Wendy says fondly, seeing her stare at me with wide eyes. "Say hi, Fern."
"Fern? You named her Fern?" I ask, raising a brow. "Like how you named your PETS Wilbur and Charlotte?"
"Wilbur and Charlotte are my babies. It's only natural I named Fern that way too," Wendy defends herself, setting out the food for me on the table with utensils.
"Hi, little one," I say as I turn to her. "I'm sorry you're equal to turtles."
Despite the insult, she innocently giggles and show me her gums again.
"Well, since Uncle Greg is gonna have his lunch, you should have yours too." Wendy pushes in the table towards me and makes her way around the bed to get Fern, who latches onto Vincent as she's being passed off. "You don't mind right, Greg?" she asks me.
"No, course not," I shrug, wondering why I would not be okay with the baby eating. Everyone eats.
However, Wendy doesn't seem to search for a bottle anywhere, and starts to make her way to the armchair in the very corner. Vincent's head whips over towards me and I look back at him with widen eyes. Both of our arms fly up in the air, and for a moment, neither of us can manage to let out single sound escape.
"Uh, actually Wendy. There's a lot of draft near that window. It's pretty cold," I quickly make an excuse.
"Oh really? It feels fine to me," Wendy ponders, starting to sit down and position Fern in place against her chest.
"Honey, I heard there's a whole nursing room on the maternity floor. There's a bunch of mothers and their babies," Vincent speaks up.
Wendy's eyes light up.
"Fern would probably have a fun time up there," Vincent further intrigues her, "and they have comfy seats."
She looks between me and Vincent and grins.
"Or I could just breastfeed here..." She continues to look at us and gauge our reactions. I feel my face get hot. "Jeez, all grown up and you two are still shy of boobs. Fine, I'll go," she laughs, lifting Fern up to lean on her shoulders and leaving the room.
With Wendy gone, the awkwardness is replaced itself with a different variation, as I sit in my bed staring at my food and Vincent off to the side staring at the window. He clears his throat and makes his way to the armchair. I start to dig into the food, continuous shoveling missives bites in order to make sure I'm always too occupied with chewing to talk. However, this tactic makes the food run out quick, and even with painfully slow chewing for the last few bites, I finish my meal before Wendy returns.
"So how'd you get into this mess?" Vincent asks. "I'm assuming what the news is saying isn't true."
"It's not, but you'll find out soon enough," I reply. "Is Wendy worried?"
"No. She doesn't know about it cause she doesn't keep up with the news. Probably better off that way."
"Yeah..."
The silence persists for a bit longer.
"Wendy still worried about you," Vincent sighs.
"I cut ties with her."
"Did you really?" Vincent asks, his jaws tightening. "You might have stopped talking to her, but she's the only person in your will? You think she'll be happy down the road when her friend dies, when he leaves her no words but money? It's like you want her to feel miserable."
"I didn't want that-"
"I know you didn't. You're just fucking dumb. You didn't think it through," he scoffs.
"Why are you even upset? You wanted me gone."
"I think you're annoying, but Wendy loves you. You make her happy, so..."
I take a deep breath and sink back into my pillow, staring at the ceiling.
"You're the fucking idiot. I'm in love with your wife, but you're fine with it?"
"Yes, because you had your chance with Wendy. When we broke up for years, no even before that, you could've made a move. Why didn't you?" he asks me, but he continues, already knowing why. "It's because you had the same reasons as me. You wanted what in Wendy's best interests, what she wanted, what would make her happy."
His words trigger a flash of memories: the night I gave up a prom dance with her, the summer nights I spent watching her cry, the years I spent telling her everything but how much I truly felt for her. All this because I knew she loved another man.
"I didn't because it was too late already."
"Why? Did you even try? Or did you just give up? Who knows. Maybe things would've turned out different between you and Wendy... Honestly, I hate the idea of it, but I knew it could happen."
"What?" I ask, confused.
"She always put other things first before our relationship, whether it be Vivian, Maddy, my education. She always just chose what was best for me, and she was always wrong. Maybe you're doing the same now. Fuck, why are you two so stupid in the same ways?" he mutters.
Vincent thought I even had a chance? How? When Wendy loved him so much?
"You think me giving up Wendy was the wrong thing?"
"That's for you to decide. Regardless, I made my choice, and I don't regret it."
Vincent looks at me with sharp eyes, the fire in them lighting up like green lanterns. Suddenly, they go out, the flames extinguishing, and he turns away.
"Do you remember that day you confronted me about Wendy?"
I try to recall specifically, but too many moments of my irritation with him comes to mind.
"It was when you said you'd made her happy again if I didn't," he reminds me, seeing my blank look. "Well, it ticked me off. At first, I was mad because I thought you were too far up your own ass, but... after a while I kind of... thought it was possible."
He turns to check my expression. I must've been unable to hide my confusion, because continues to explain.
"I'm serious. I saw how close you guys were, how naturally comfortable Wendy was with you, how well you two got along. It was almost like you could read her mind, understand her without effort. It made me jealous, because I was so confused about our relationship back then."
"It didn't matter anyways," I sigh. "She was already in love with you. I couldn't do anything about it, even if I wanted to."
"No, things could've been different. If it wasn't possible, I wouldn't have worried about it in college. Feelings aren't finite. Even if Wendy had feelings for me, she could always grow for someone else..."
What is he meaning to say? Wendy could've fallen for me? How? When she loved Vincent so much? Why is he telling me this as her husband?
"Except I didn't want that to happen. I know someone else could make her happy, but I didn't care. I wanted to be that person regardless, so I took a chance and proposed. I knew I could do everything in my power to make her happy..." He turns to me with glowing eyes again. "Did you? Did you think you could make her happy?"
His question causes a lump to form in my throat, which I try to forcibly swallow, but it stays stuck, impeding my airflow and causes my head to feel light and fuzzy.
"If I did, would it bother you?"
"If she wanted to be happy with you, I would've accepted it. But I would've still asked her to be with me, no matter was her answer was. I would have no regrets that way. I have to at least try to know if I won or lost."
Try. I'm such a fool. I didn't even try.
"I missed my chance didn't I?" I weakly chuckle.
"Yeah, you dumbass," Vincent chuckles back. "I was at college for five years. What the hell were you doing that whole time?"
"I couldn't bring myself to do it," I deeply sigh.
I finally understand why it was always Vincent and not me. I never had faith. I never took a chance. I surrendered without a fight. Wendy deserves someone who fights for her. Vincent truly deserves her. I am only a coward. No, I won't be one anymore. Vincent's right. I need to stop surrounding my life to this world. I need to fight for the life I want for once.
"I'm not telling you this to make you more miserable," Vincent tells me.
"Are you sure?" I joke.
"No, you seem pretty miserable already," he jokes back. "But I'm telling you to stop making yourself miserable. Don't feel sorry for yourself when all you do is give up."
"Harsh...but true. But you're not gonna like it when I start trying."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm thinking of moving back, to be closer to Wendy again... Not because I'm still in love with her or anything," I clarify. "It's because she's really my only family."
"Do it then. It's annoying we have to fly all the way out here to visit your ass anyways. It'll save us some money," Vincent says, crossing his arms and looking off to the side. He tries to hide his slight grin, but I manage to catch a glimpse of it anyways.
"I'm quitting acting too."
"Good. Your movies sucked anyways."
"Yeah, well at least I'm not working some lame nine to five office job."
"I work at a lab!"
"Nerdy boring shit."
"You're just too stupid to understand it. Didn't you barely graduate?"
"Shut the fuck up... Did Wendy tell you that?"
"No, I could tell you're dumb just by looking at you."
"Yeah, but I'm stronger than you. Who cares about brains? It's all brawns."
"Phht, since when? Your puny ass? Don't you use a stunt double?"
"I do all of my stunts," I glare. I pull up my hospital gown to show him. "See this? I workout to maintain these babies. Boom, and these. Boom, and these..." I continue, flexing various parts of my body.
Vincent gets up and rolls his eyes.
"I had abs too. Nothing special," he scoffs.
"Where are they then? Hidden under that gut?"
"Hey, dad bods are the new sexy. Wendy worships this belly," Vincent smirks. "Plus, my arms are bigger than yours," he says, pulling up his sleeves to flex his biceps.
"Eh, not impressed."
"Your muscles are for show. Mine? Built from real life shit. I haul all the groceries inside in one trip. I carry Fern in one arm and push the cart with the other for hours while Wendy decides which brand of ranch she wants to buy."
"Only one way to prove it," I shrug.
Vincent eyes narrow as he immediately understands. I move the empty food containers to the side and slam my elbow onto the table. Vincent leans over and does the same. We grip each other hands tightly and glare intensely at each other. Without a word, we simultaneously begin to push on each other's arms. Neither of us budge, our arms only shaking in place. It goes on for a few minutes, and just when our arms start to go numb, the door swings open.
"You boys look like you've been having fun," she smiles on her way in.
We look nervously at each other, but neither of us wants to give the other a victory. With a mischievous grin, Wendy approaches us, with Fern seated on her hip, and taking Fern's tiny hand in hers, puts it on our wrapped hands. Our arms, so fatigued, give out from Wendy's push, and she cheers in delight as our fists meet the table.
"Yay, Fern. We won!" she cheers. Fern giggles from Wendy's excitement and paws at her face. "You two suckers didn't even see it coming," she taunts.
Vincent and I glance at each other and grin. We were happy to lose to Wendy, because we had already surrendered our hearts to her. Whether loving her brought up happiness or sadness, pleasure or pain, comfort or worry, we did not fight it. It did not make us cowards, because whatever resulted from it, we would willingly accept it.
*****
College is starting again for me y'all. Sorry I wasn't able to finish the series. I have everything outlined. It's just hard to get it into words sometimes. I sometimes feel like I lost touch with my hobbies being so focused on my education. Hopefully I can find a healthier balance with my life this semester. Wish me luck! And I hope you guys like the closing to Greg's story. Hopefully, I did his character arch some justice.