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„My relationship with Armie is..” my heart stops for a moment. What is he doing? Is he planning on exposing me with this speech, exposing us?
My mother shakes her head silently and Elizabeth grabs me by my hand and squeezes with warning. I stop breathing for a moment and some part of me wishes he did say it, wishes he blew it up in all of our faces, the shock would maybe dull the pain for some. And it would be over, the charade. It would be done, I would be free.
But he doesn’t finish the sentence, he chaotically rambles on and then I go on stage to receive the award.
He manages to kill me yet again by approaching with a hand shake. I go and steal a hug from him but instead of burying his face in my neck he moves it away, stiff and unresponsive and it destroys me. It means nothing, it is nothing, but I’m gone.
He does these little things now to show me he distanced himself from me, to show me it’s over.
I talk as short as possible, thinking only of getting away from there. We take some photos and as soon as I can I run out to smoke my joint.
I get a little relief and I imagine him coming after me, finding me here and kissing me.
I think of his lips most of the time - whether in a daydream or when he’s right beside me. Their shape and colour. The way they taste, the way they nibbled at mine, their softness and urgency and hunger but most of all their decisiveness. He’s the one who knows what he wants and he takes it when it’s given.
But only when it’s given.
Since the Oscars he changed. I’m sure he thinks I made up my mind, so he became somebody else around me, he plays a part now and he’s really good at it, a better actor than I’ll ever be. It drives me mad that he doesn’t give me a chance to tell him he’s wrong but it’s all right, I can take it. At least as long as he’s nearby, I don’t feel like dying. I hope I can talk to him tonight. All I want is to beg him to kiss me.
_______
I’m working on transmuting my disappointment and hurt into anger. Anger makes me stronger and more immune to him.
I close myself in my head and pretend I’m playing an inaccessible king. I need practice anyway. And I try to convince myself that it doesn’t matter that she’s here, that his mother is here, that here is Texas, of all places. I feel both of them are studying me closely. Elizabeth watches me discreetly while his mother looks straight at me with this stern twist of her lips. I never drop my mask. The bigger the audience the better.
Armie on the other hand almost doesn’t look at me at all. He seems nervous and absent, his natural charm and bravado missing. Maybe this just makes it easier for me.
I tell myself I’m already almost over him. There is no way I’m going to give in again. Fuck his puppy eyes. Fuck his beautiful, soft, bluest of eyes. He can beg. He can plead. He can cry.
But oh how I want him to beg.
I disappear right after the whole shit show, still feeling his hands around me from the hug that he stole from me on the stage. I go straight to the airport and fly out home, good that I planned this earlier on.
Once I land, there’s a string of texts.
Armie: Please don’t run away, T.
Armie: I need to talk to you.
Armie: I called the hotel, you left?
Armie: Timmy, please.
Armie: Fuck, T. You flew out? Please, call me.
Armie: Tim, don’t do this to me. Don’t ghost me like that.
Armie: I fucked up, I know. But please, let me explain.
Armie: I need some time, T. Please, try understand. Just talk to me.
Armie: I need you, please, don’t leave me.
Armie: I love you.
I make a screenshot of it and send it to him with caption: „Fuck off or I’ll send it to YOUR WIFE, ASSHOLE”.
Armie: Do it. I don’t fucking care.
I look at the text and read it fifteen times. My heart stops and my throat closes. This is why they behaved so strangely in Austin? I thought the tension was all on me. Does it mean that he spoke with her? Maybe I didn’t give him a chance to tell me. Maybe I’m the asshole.
I compose myself and dial his number. He answers immediately and we both fall silent for a while.
„Tim.” he says and pauses for what seems like hours.
I keep breathing and say nothing.
„Tim, you shouldn’t have left like this.”
„Why?” Just give me all of you.
„Because I have to tell you.. things.”
He’s stalling.
„You haven’t told her.” I sigh knowing I’m right.
„No, but please don’t hang up! It’s not because I don’t plan to tell her, Tim. I will, I have to, but I just need time, I need to do this right.”
Time for what, I want to ask, but instead I lie on the couch and try to steady my breathing.
„You understand?”
I do and I don’t at the same time. I’m so worn out. I want to sleep forever.
„How? How can it be done right, Armie?”
„I don’t know.” he sighs deeply. „That’s why I need time.”
I know I lost.
„Fine. But no contact until you sort this out.” I know I’m going to regret it, the punishment just the same to me as it is to him.
„No, Tim, I beg you!” he sounds desperate, maybe for the first time truly so. „I can’t do this without you, please.”
Is this really what I wanted? I’m not sure anymore. He takes my silence as a chance.
„You’re already on the other side of the country. Please, don’t cut me out, T.”
„Okay.” I hate surrendering to him like this. But whatever terms I might dictate would ricochet right into my heart as well.
„Oh, good. Good.” he sighs with relief this time.
The silence that falls now is awkward. I feel there is something more to be said, something he should say. So I wait but the anticipation embarrasses me, makes me feel childish and needy, but at the same time makes me angry at him that he doesn’t give it to me right away, exactly when it should be given. Now - if he says it - it’s going to be worthless, forced. I don’t even want it anymore.
„Don’t say it.” I blurt out. „Not until it can be said out loud.”