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“Joel…! Joel…!”
“Look at the camera.”
“To the right, Joel.”
“Joel, we love you!”
“Joel, will you marry me?”
“Joel..Joeeeellll… Joellllllllllll!”
Joel kept smiling and posing for his fans and the sea of black Nikons. The flashes blinded him. His ears rang with the chorus of people calling his name with unmelodious voices. Though he savoured their praises, his senses longed for the silent hum of his home AC.
‘God, I’m gettin’ old.’ - Thought the fifty- and four-years old actor.
“Joel, to your left.”
‘I wish I could hold her hands now.’
He stopped registering faces the moment he walked onto the red carpet. Even though he was one of the most bankable and critically acclaimed actors, who could play the aloof protector or the goofy millionaire with ease—like spring changing to summer—anxiety did find its way to his bones whenever he went to one of these many events or festivals each year. It would be a lie to say he didn’t pray for this day while he was scrubbing plates in a broken Brooklyn Cafe almost two decades ago. He did. But many times, he lacked the comfort he needed—the comfort that came to him with a soft kiss from her ruby lips or a squeeze from her bronzed palms, reminding him that she was there. And that she would always be there with him.
‘Jesus, I’m crazy to miss her like this…’
So thought Joel while he kept his left hand on his stomach. It had always grounded him. But holding her hand made him feel safe. It made his anxiety feel like tuned-out background noise. Catching her eye made him feel seen. While he was posing, turning, and smiling on that wine-red carpet for his new movie, he kept thinking about her, miles away from him.He was also a late bloomer, like Her.
‘She must have woken up now. Did she eat her breakfast and meds? Or has she started correcting her manuscript on an empty stomach? Or she is rehearsing for her play?
When the world shows an A-lister basking his well-earned warmth of his success, anyone who knows him would understand from his tired eyes that he was missing her. He always misses her. When she is not around him, he feels like the lily that cannot bloom as her moon has not risen. His papa always jokes that he revolves around her, like earth revolves around the sun. She is his sun. The warmth of his soul. The radiant beam of light that shines on his life. His wife. His.
When the world saw an A-lister basking in the well-earned warmth of his success, anyone who knew him would understand from his tired eyes that he missed her. Like sunflowers missing their sun on a rainy day. He always missed her. When she was not around him, he felt like a lily that cannot bloom because its moon has not risen. His pa always joked that he revolved around her, like the Earth revolves around the Sun. She was his sun—the warmth of his soul, the radiant beam of light that shone on his life. His wife. His.
She was an actress too, but not like him. She did not chase stardom; she only sought out creativity. Art was her lifeline, and she found it through words, work, and the movements of her body. She was one of the most acclaimed, critically loved art-house actresses. Her work in three languages—not one her native tongue—elicited awe among her audience and critics.
“I have always believed Gods and demi-gods still lives among us. Indeed, their blood has been polluted by the human blood, yet we can catch the glimpse of that otherworld in some humans. She is one such another world creature. I truly believe she is a shapeshifter. Each new character she does has no residue of any of her previous roles. She is like a snake that sheds skin. I do not know whether I should be scared of her or praise her.”
- Last year, one of the most feared critics of Europe, said this about her.
While faceless voices on the internet noted that –
"She definitely has talent, but she is wasting it away with her shyness and focusing more on theater and her books.”
A lot of people knew about her, but his world was not very familiar with her. They knew her only as the actress who was the heroine of his directorial debut, and who also happened to be one of the writers of the movie. Then, they saw her as a minor character in his best friend’s movie. Then, they forgot about her.
“Joel, smile one more time please…”
‘He directed her as if he knew everything about her.’ -Wrote Vanity Fair when the movie came out five years ago.
'Off course, I know her. She is mine.' – a smile graced on reading the quote on his iPhone, while waiting for his next flight for Milan.
‘God, I miss her. I hope she eats her breakfast. Yea, she might argue coffee is technically breakfast food too.”
“Joel to the left, please.”
He shook his head and walked ahead.
‘God, I miss her it hurts so much. Or maybe it’s my old joints. Two more days, and I’ll be back in her arms.”
“Joel, the press is waiting for you.” – murmured his agent into his ears.
“Hmm… yea, let’s go.”
He smiled to his stylist as she was arranging his shirt.
'God, she needs a vacation. My girl has been working back-to-back with the play, and my screenplay. Maybe we’ll go to that cottage in Ireland. Or…'
Before he even had a chance to complete his thought, his agent whispered in his ear –
“You’re thinking about her isn’t.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about”
He smiled at a fan who gifted him a flower. His agent slapped on his shoulder and whispered -
“Brother, you may fool the world but not me.”
He looked at him in mock offense and walked toward another fan.
“Joel can I’ve a picture with you, please, please, please?”
“Off course.”
He posed for the fan, and she shrieked with delight. As he walked ahead, he thought—
‘As if I ever stop thinking about her.’
He smiled. His manager directed him to the first press line. He shared pleasantries and hugged the woman. He stopped caring who was who anymore. A few faces he did remember; the rest were all the same face with the same voice
“Joel, you looking amazing. Is that Channel you are wearing.”
‘There you go’ – thought Joel. He smiled and replied -
“Those are some amazing nails that you have, show me, show me.”
“I got ‘em for you. I know how much you admire nails. It matches your dress too.”
“Twinsies.”
“So, Joel, tell me about the movie.”
He repeated the same answer he had been giving for the last five days. Sometimes he wondered, ‘Don’t they get tired of asking the same questions?’
“Oh! Wow that’s so deep.”
‘So full of bullshit,’ she might have murmured if she had heard this, Joel thought. A chuckle escaped his throat, which he tried to hide by brushing something away from his nose. His agent raised an eyebrow at him, but Joel duly ignored him.
“Joel, what’s your plan after the press tour?”
“God. I need a vacation. More than me she needs a vacation. She has been working non-stop, editing her new novel. Rehearsing. And if I go anywhere near her while she’s working, she is going to kick me out of the house. I can’t wait for you all to read my wife’s new book. It is truly amazing. Like always, obviously. But this time, finger’s crossed, I’m praying for her to get Booker. So, I’m thinking of stealing her away for me for at least a week. God, I miss her.”
His agent stiffened behind him. The clicks and flashes, too, were stunned by his answer.
“Your wife?”
“Yea?”
“You are married?”
He was puzzled by the question. His agent slapped his back. His team looked at him, holding their breath.
Oh. Oh!!!
“You are married Joel? When? Who is she?”
“Oh. Yea. I thought you all know. Yea. I am.”
The crowd erupted yelling –
"Who is she? What is her name? Is it your costar?’"
He never hid it from the world that he was married. However, he did not disclose it either. It was more like an omission of information that the couple deemed not worthy of disclosing. They liked to be a couple, not celebrities. The questions kept flooding toward him
‘Well, I already made someone’s day hard.’ – thought Joel.
“Joel, tell us about her.”
“Joel, who is she?”
“Joel, nooo… Joel…?
“Joell!!”
He walked away with a smile. His agent followed behind him and spoke in a low baritone—
“Hermano, she is not going to be happy.”
“I wonder what she will say.” – whispered his stylist.
“She will say - 'left you alone for one day, and you created this mess.' And she will roll her eyes at me. Will pout, off course, for two minutes before forgetting why she was mad at me.”
His agented snorted beside him. His stylist and manager giggled. They walked towards the theater.
“Yea, true but she aint gonna be happy with it.”
“Oh, I know. But I also know, how to make her happy.”
“You’ve thirty minutes before this news reaches her, ‘ermano. Thank god she doesn’t have any social media.”
He smiled and thought – ‘Well finally I can scream from the top of my lungs, to the world, that I am unconditionally and irrevocable in love with my wife.’
30 minutes later.
Somewhere in Europe.
‘Did you see what your husband did?
– her PA barged into her bedroom, holding her phone. She was lying on the bed, swimming in papers. Some were crushed and thrown without a care; some were lined in red. Her laptop was open, but she was reading The Brothers Karamazov. She flipped the page and, without taking her eyes from the book, asked—
"What did he do now? Said he read fanfiction about his characters?”
She reached over to get her coffee cup form the side table.
"No. Worse.’"
- Replied her agent and turned the mobile to her face.
She cast a careless glance at the phone, went back to reading, and stiffened. She took the phone from her PA, started scrolling, and murmured—
“For fucks sake. For one day I left you alone and you…”
“I’m surprised that he was able to keep this hidden for this long.”
“True” – she said. She slapped the mobile into her PA’s hand, and took her book back before saying—
‘I’m changing my name and going to live in some forest if these paps follow me. I’ve heard Japan has some agency that helps you with that. Maybe I should look into it.”
Her PA took the phone from the bed and walked out of the room, yelling -
“As if you can stay away from him.”
“Or him from me.” – murmured her.