I THINK BRIDGET WAS AVOIDING me after our conversation, or whatever it was we had. But I didn't see her again during filming for Stella Bella.
No matter the dread of doing more than the amount of needed takes because of Josie, I did somewhat start to like her. And Mary. And everyone else on set. I think that's the thing with good members, or just the film in general, you start to take a liking to them and everything.
Mary hosted a party when our last film was finished, nowhere special or nice, just on the sets we've been filming at. But it felt special.
"Here," Mary sat down next to me on a folded chair, handing me a bottle of beer. I didn't drink beer, but took it anyways, popping the cap off. We sat there, in front of us with the cameras and equipment moved away, leaving an open space for people to slow dance, or just those who stood by with a drink, talking. I feel Mary tilt her head at me. "Mason and Cameron both couldn't make it?"
Apparently that day happened to be Mason and Cameron's...how many years? Probably ten I think then. Their ten year anniversary since they were together. "No, Mason has some work to get to. Cameron, you know, just fooling around I guess. He used to be more serious."
Mary smiled, taking a giant gulp of her beer and exhaling an exaggerated sound after. She turns her head to look at me, a bead of sweat runs down my temple. "You don't have to lie for them. I know."
I huffed, but it came out unnaturally. "Know what?"
She was small and petite, the chair seeming to swallow her as she leaned back, careless eyes. Or maybe drunken eyes. She had quite a few bottles already. "Them. I know they're together, and my son's gay. And that you and Cameron?" She grinned, and I felt myself shrinking, scared. "A façade."
We didn't talk for a long time, just watching dancers twirling around. I didn't know what to say. Until, I swallowed, and managed to look at her again. "And you're okay with that? With Mason and Cameron?" I wondered if Mason also told her about me.
Her eyes looked tiny and sleepy at first, but then they widened, curling into that classic Wen-Qiu family smile. "Why the hell wouldn't I be? He's my son, no matter what, and I love him very much." She reached her hand for mine, and I let her. She pats it gently, stroke of a mother and friend. "You know, it's not wrong. It's not wrong or anything. I don't understand why people still think it is. Actually, I don't think it should even matter. Love is love, and such a good thing should never be wrong."
My eyes stay on her hand and mine. "Of course it isn't wrong. I never meant to put it that way."
"I know you didn't. But internalized homophobia is a thing." I didn't know what she meant, but before I could say anything in response, swayingly and dreamingly, she slowly picked herself up by the legs and did a small spin, beer in one hand. "Are you ever free? You seem very stricken on set all the time, expression always fussed. Mason says you're rather a carefree person. But you seem very serious whenever you're," she took a giant gulp of beer down the throat. "Acting."
"I'm not always serious." She should've seen the amount of times I puked in the toilet because of drinking too much, Mason always helping me with it.
She laughed, but then when her eyes settled on me again, the lines of smile warmed up my chest. It felt so friendly, and familiar. "You really do remind me of Stella." She shook her head, and more of her maturity came back from that. "Well, because of that, you two would not get along. Definitely wouldn't." A huge burp interrupted her, and instead of being embarrassed, she laughed her head off. People glanced at our direction, at Mary, and as Mary Qiu always did, it brought a smile upon their faces.
I got up from my chair too, stabling my arms around Mary. For some reason I didn't feel like partying, which I had done so much ever since Klarise left. Instead, I just felt sort of sad that this was going to be over soon. All of it.
Mary hiccuped in my half surrounding her arms, barely standing on her two legs. "I think I've had one too many of a drink. I can't have my son seeing me like this——" A hiccup interrupts her.
I started to help her leave the set, waving to the people I had worked for months on set with and saying some of my goodbyes, then leading me and Mary to my car.
I stopped midway, looking back, Mary's arm around my shoulder creating unstable weight. I looked at the building I had filmed at. Long and hard. This place, Mary created, had somehow felt like a second home.
I led Mary and me to my car, ready to drive her home.
She's half asleep when I tuck her in the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt for her. I started the engine, and the dim lights of the film set building glowed in a way I've never seen it done before. It felt like a star.
I looked at Mary, the person I have gotten to know and became partly friends with. And I never told anyone this, not even Mason, but she felt like a family figure.
"Uhh, I'm so sorry, I didn't...I thought it was the right thing." She murmured, stirring in dreams. I smiled, and felt tears stinging my eyes.
"It's not over, Maeve." I said to myself. "It's just a film. Just a film. Like any other." It was an extraordinary film, one of the best I've ever gotten to work on. It was not like any other.
I let the teardrops come, slowly. No one was there to see it.
I looked back at Mary, her face looking suddenly ten times older. She coughed. And stirred.
At least Mary was still there, and if she was, the person who keeps up a smile no matter all the frustrating times, that was well. All was well. Film ending or not, there will still be pieces of it. And that should be enough.
YOU LOOK LIKE A million bucks," Mason said to me, letting the hairdresser leave as he fixes up the few final touches to my curls himself. I had dyed it back to brown, even though it's not really my exact natural hair color, I couldn't take in the red hair anymore, it just didn't suit me.
We looked at our two reflections in the prepare room vanity. It reminded me of the first time we met, him so small and begging at me as I stared at him through the mirror. I guess there's a reason why we don't get to know our futures, because then we'd slack off since we know what will happen, and none of the achievements made would've happened because of the things we didn't do. But who would've seen this? Time was a weird thing. Our reflections felt both warming and strange.
I let my hand wander to his, which was on my shoulder. I rested mine on top of his. "Do you think..." I took in a deep breath. "Do you think this time they'll finally give it to me?"
I looked next to us, on the wall, pictures of actors and actresses with Oscars in their hands.
He bends down, resting his chin on top of my head. I liked it when he did that, it reminded me of him being young and less stressed, mind always a little more carefree, less frowning. "They might. They might not. But whether or not they give it to you, an Oscar to me will just always be an object, and that if you need an object to define how great you are at something, then it's just pitying."
I laughed, "Your words really flow now, I think you're gaining some of that tongue from Cameron. Or is it from business?"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that I don't care if you win tonight or not. And I don't care if Stella Bella wins tonight. I just want you to know that no matter what, this film and you will always be the best in my heart, no object can ever tell me that."
I thought about that bright golden statue, in my hands, what it must feel like; the weight of it, the shape around my fingers when my nails curve in. It's been so long, and I've wanted my Oscar or whatever award it is, for a while then. Even when I didn't know what it was, I had wanted it. It had always been so important, and I was starting to forget the reason why it was.
"You can't possibly mean that."
He shook his head, and his small beard at his chin he had grown between the months ruffled up a bit of my hair. It somehow made it look better. "I do. I mean everything I say to you and have ever said. Fingers crossed." Childishly, he brought his crossed fingers to the mirror, our reflections dancing off in front of us like perfect people. Beautiful and fabulous.
I was too nervous to roll my eyes, but gingerly, I brought up my own crossed fingers. "Then let's cross our fingers that this night won't go to hell."
He lifted his chin up, pecking a kiss on my cheek. "Never will when I am here."
Cameron pops his head into the room, him in his tux with his jet black hair gelled and neat, his face finally for once clean shaven. "Now now, you two lovebirds get up. I need to take my date to her Academy Award."
No one was in the room and there were no security cameras. Mason walked over to Cameron at the doorway and planted a light kiss on his lips. "Alright, see you two then. I'll be close. Next to Mary."
Cameron rolled his eyes, but gave a slight nudge to Mason's arm before he left. He looked at me then, where I was still sort of nervously looking at myself in the mirror, white dress and perfect face. Walking over to me, he rested a hand on my chair, the other one being offered to me. "If you win tonight, I'll invite you to dinner. And you know I never do that."
I let a smile pull at my cheek, taking his offered hand. We must already look like the perfect couple. Funny how if people really knew us, they would learn that me and Cameron are quite similar in the fact that we are both sometimes ruthless in getting what we want and are stood up and care too much about our outside impressions, leading to the result that we would definitely not make a good relationship as lovers. I took in how he looked and the way his dimples deepened, swallowing his beautiful mole on his side cheek, and knew that he was the perfect one for Mason, vise versa.
"And what if I lose?"
He cleared his throat as we walked out, close to the cameras that were about to flash in our faces. "Then you should call her."
Before I could argue, knowing exactly what he meant, the cameras came and it was smiling time. He smiled so soothingly and naturally, like he hadn't said what he had said. It took thirty minutes, when we could finally go in the theatre.
I smiled, as two other actresses I've been in a film with says hi to me. I still smiled, teeth grudged together when I leaned toward his ear. "What the hell did you say?"
"Good evening to you too," he waved to a director who greeted us. After that, he leaned in my side of the ear, dimples still deepened. "Call her. She needs you more than ever."
"She admitted that to you? Or did you make that up?" I smiled some more, waving to Josie who looked ten times more nervous than me and terribly bad at hiding it. She weakly waved back, her smile too tight. "You do know how that went last time. You locked me in a bathroom with her."
"You did like the results it brought, didn't you?"
I scowled, and a lady I don't know with fat jewelries all over her notices. I smiled at her in replacement, but she simply ignored me. "I sometimes hate you so much, Cameron."
He kisses the side of my cheek, adding more to our perfect relationship representation. "Honestly, I simply feel the same for you too. So your welcome." We finally found our seats after so many people stopping us to talk. Mason and Mary were in the same row, we waved to them. "But I'm serious, Maeve. She might've not said anything all that much, but something is wrong. I've known Klarise since she was born, she's like a baby sister and my best friend. She doesn't sound right. I think she needs you."
"You've talked to her?" My heart pounded, but not because of the announcer getting ready the mic, but because of her. It was always her.
He nodded, just the slightest so no one really notices. There were thousands of eyes tonight, it was risky talking about her, yet to me then I barely noticed. "I'm really worried for her."
I don't look at him, because his face, I knew, wasn't acting. It was a true concern, and that scared me even more. "I don't know her anymore. She's your business now, not mine." I looked onward at the stage, the host already making his speech with the announcer next to him in support.
I heard him breathe in and out, rather loudly, and then when I glanced at him his face was red and scary. "Can't you just get over your little ego and do fucking something!"
A few people glanced at our direction, he quickly replaced his distressed and angered face with a smile.
I leaned toward him so one part of my face was blocked, then one hand covering the other half. There were also cameras tonight, and they were hungry for press as I was hungry for that Oscar. "She left me. Twice. She left me and married someone else. Do you know how that freaking feels? Why does everyone think it's my fault?"
"Mason surely doesn't think it's your fault. Shit, Maeve, even if you beat someone the crap up he'll think you're right."
"That's why I like him better than you." I didn't really mean that, but somehow I just wanted to piss him off. I probably already did.
He took a deep breath in, and I could feel the air between us draw away. "I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, okay? Here's the truth, I don't know the details of what happened between you guys. But I know, from hearing her and seeing you partying so hard and messing around that you can't remember certain events; you both miss each other." I flinched. "Is it that hard to just get over it?"
I leaned away, but not before whispering: "Yes. It is. Because she's a fucking bitch and I wish I never met her. If she really has a problem, she should go ask for help from that husband of hers. Because isn't that why she married him? Or better yet, she should ask her family, since even if they are clearly brats she chose them over me and everyone else who actually cares about her. So she should go ask help from them. Not you. Not me. Not any one of us."
His hand grabbed at my shoulder, so hard and with such force I felt my back hit my chair abruptly. Several people darted their eyes at him. It did not look like a manly thing to do. He pulled away, but the whole time looking like he wanted to punch something.
I had a harsh mouth, but I knew that if I talked more about her I would break down. I would care. I did care. I cared so much, too much. I tried to bury her down, but everyday, I worried for her. You think I didn't see those news? I did, and it was so concerning I wanted to rip and tore at everything I saw or that came in my way. I loved her, and still do, till his very moment as I tell my story. I wanted more than anything to help her, to find out what was happening with her, why they were saying she had bruises, why she had stopped doing the one thing she might love more than me. I wanted to know, and deep down, I wanted to help even if my conscience denied it. Although simply, I couldn't.
Cameron just didn't understand that sometimes, it's not that easy to go and make up to that other person. We're always waiting for the other to take the first step. And sometimes none of us takes it, so we just wait. Always waiting.
—————
Mary looked over at me when my name was called for the nominees for best actress, and having to be only a few chairs away, she reached over and took a good hold of my hand. Her hand felt warm and safe. I glanced at Cameron, who was still not looking at me, his smile I knew to be fake. A vein stuck out on the side of his temple as his teeth were clenched. I tried to ignore that and him.
When Mary smiled, while the whole world and the applause was silent and muffled to me, only me seeing this woman who has given me the role to this undeniable chance of a film, I finally realized I won best actress.
I walked up that stage, everyone applauding and smiling, the anthem of some music playing. The host holding the Oscar handed it to me, I looked at the base, Academy of Best Actress Award to Maeve Sun Lively for Stella Bella, 2031 engraved on it. I looked up, and the sight of everyone, smiling, the cameras, and me in a beautiful dress on a stage winning, for once; it was what I always wanted.
"A speech perhaps?" The announcer whispered to me, glancing at the silence I was leaving to people as I stood there for maybe minutes. It felt shorter.
I walked to the mic, and then just looked at my Oscar, my name carved on it. I looked back at all the people, the cameras snapping pictures every second I let pass.
I did prepare a speech, and it was something that was expected to say for me. The thanks, the people you dedicate this to even if you don't give one fuck for them, and of course to your family or parents. I should say it, shouldn't I? Or else why in the world did I write it? I thought.
"This is my first Oscar and it's," I found Cameron in the crowd, who was smiling, but a fake one, making himself look at me for the press. I let that pretty mouth of mine drop, what's in my heart wanting to be let out of the cage I had held it in for once. "To be honest with you? It's nothing I imagined. It feels like nothing. It kinda feels like a toy that me and countless others have fought and competed over for. It feels like nonsense."
Some people started laughing, others looked stoned as ever. Some looked angry.
I held the Oscar up, the golden material glowing under the stage lights. It was beautiful. Yet I somehow started to just wonder, is this really what I've been working my whole life towards? This stupid piece of metal? This stupid piece of metal and that other Grammy stupid piece of metal that me and Klarise had fought over about and used to compare our worths with? Why was it so goddamn important?
"I can't believe why I ever wanted so badly to have this thing." I threw my arms up, but with the Oscar still in my hand. I think if I threw it someone might really throw something back in return at me. "And now that I think of it, I feel like..."
My eyes found Mason and Mary, their expressions mirroring each other almost exactly; fear. I took a deep breath, and even when I wanted, for the first time, to tell the world part of myself, part of something real for once, I hid back into the shadows again. I closed the door to the cage in my chest, everything hiding back in. As they should have.
I grinned, holding the Oscar up again, and pecked a kiss on that cold metal. "You know what? Forget what I said. I love this thing. It's shiny, it's pretty, it's golden, I mean who wouldn't love it?" The audience seems to exhale a breath that was held as they chuckled, the sound of it spreading around the entire place. I said my thanks to everyone of the Stella Bella cast before going back to my seat.
Cameron would not look at me the rest of the way, and even though we planned to take more pictures together for the press, he left early. It felt like a small jab of pain.
Stella Bella won for best picture and several other awards from other places that will be later given. As we took the pictures around Mary holding an Oscar, me and my Oscar, and lastly, somehow as a miracle, Josie with her best supporting actress Oscar for the lover she played. We smiled for the cameras, and it should've been the best day of my life, yet it did not feel one bit close to it.
We were going to the afterparty when I said I wasn't feeling it. Even Mason was going, but all I wanted was to go home.
Mary let Mason walk with the others to the limo first, and then when they were gone, she walked me over to a more quiet place without all the paparazzis.
"You were wonderful up there," her hand was on my shoulder, and suddenly I think I felt like I was going to cry.
"Thank you."
She smiled at me, and I think my face scrunched up, unable to hold the tears much longer. "You can let it out. Just let it all out."
And I did. I sobbed into her arms, hugging her, even though she was shorter than me and it was the most awkward position. Her hand stroked my back, gentle, and I forgot for a moment what I had been really crying about. I guess there were one too many to remember anyway.
When I finally stopped raining snots and tears on her, probably looking as ugly as ever, she pulled away and I noticed that her own face was dotted with tears. I never exactly asked her why she would be sad when her film had won and was streaming all over theaters.
"Even if this film is over," I said, slowly, trying to not let the tears make me stumble over my words. "I'll still be able to see you, right? It doesn't mean the end, right? We will still get to talk like we did on set, right?"
She doesn't look at me at first, eyes somewhere else completely. Her face was drawn into a tiny smile, the kind I haven't really seen her wear before, and she tipped her head up at me. She aged a thousand years.
"Of course, darling, of course." She led us slowly out of the alley we were in, the street lights brightening our faces. I didn't care for the paparazzis snapping me at my ugliest moment, my eyes never left her. "You're the most important person to Mason, remember that. And he needs you, no matter what. Can you promise me something?"
I nodded the quickest I can.
"Be there for him. Always. Always be there for him, okay?"
"I will. I always will be there for him."
She took off her boxy glasses she always wore, and then she handed them to me. I had no idea why, and something about the way she was acting was weird. The wind blew her hair, and she looked all of a sudden both old and young. "You can give me back these glasses later when you see me. I don't want to wear them to this party, it makes me look old." She chuckled softly, and I had to smile.
"So you do care about your appearances. I thought you didn't, since you never made an effort."
She patted me on the shoulder as I held my Oscar and her glasses. "I do, maybe someday I'll teach you about it."
"I'm sure you will," I checked my phone for the time. "You should probably go now. Or else your ride will be gone and I'm not trying to drive you there myself."
She dipped her head back and laughed. "How very kind of you. Well, I'll see you later. And please take care of my glasses, I've had these for a while and they're particularly, you can say, my second child."
"Gosh, it's not like I'm going to swallow them. Now go." I shooed at her, and she laughed some more as she dance-walked toward her limo where everyone waited, looking both young and drunk. I think I still have those glasses somewhere.
IS THIS MAEVE SUN Lively?"
I rubbed at my eyes, as I had been tucked at home for two days after the Academy Awards, not wanting to go anywhere. It was four a.m. in the morning and this phone call awoke me, and without a better head of remembering prank calls existed, I answered it.
"Yes, who's calling?"
"I'm a nurse at Keck Medical Center of USC, and I'm calling here from the request of Mason Wen."
My head cleared a little more at the sound of my best friend's name. And then, realizing this was from a hospital, I threw my blankets over and got out of bed, letting the chill air wake me up more. "Mason Wen? What happened? Is he alright? Why are you calling?"
"Mason Wen is fine, I am calling at his request because he's not really in the condition of... talking."
I hopped into a shirt and pants, my phone to my ear and shoulder. I felt cold sweat nearing closer and closer to my skin. "What? He's not in the condition of talking?!"
"No, no, ma'am, it's not that."
I stopped in my trace, my free hand rubbing at my temple. "Then what is it? Can you tell me or not already?"
The other end of the phone was dead quiet for a bit. Then it came, and when I heard it, I dropped my phone, lips unable to move. The nurse's voice continued to talk through, but I didn't bother to pick it up. I grabbed my car keys, no shoes on, and ran for my car.
Things weren't supposed to be like this. They shouldn't, it wasn't fair.
The nurse's voice rang in my ears, louder and louder each time.
A coworkers of yours, Mary Qiu, passed away two hours ago.