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When I got home, Lisa was there, doing yoga in the living room. She was bent back into some strange pose that a normal person would have found painful. I just shook my head as I threw my purse and music on the couch. She untangled herself and got up, shutting off the TV.

“That was refreshing,” she said, beaming at me. “You should try it.”

I laughed. “Exercise and I don’t really get along too well,” I said, going into my room. She followed me.

“It’s a great stress reliever,” she said, sitting on my bed. “Might do you some good.”

“Singing is my stress reliever, and I do plenty of that every day,” I said, going into my closet. I could smell Adam on my clothes, and I didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened, even though he smelled delicious. I pulled out my old grey Sir Wilfrid Laurier University sweatshirt that I’d had since my first year at the school, and stripped off my blouse, throwing it in the laundry hamper. I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and sat down on the bed, against the headboard.

“Where were you?” Lisa asked, looking at me closely. “You look wiped.”

I tried to smile. “I was working on the songs for Cooper’s show,” I said, reaching into the nightstand for a hair elastic. I pulled my hair up in a loose ponytail. “Oh, they’ve re-cast Fiyero,” I added when she’d stared at me too long.

“Oh yeah? I heard Nick had someone in mind, but last he told me the negotiations were still going on,” she said, though her voice was strained. I knew she was bursting to get me to talk about what had happened with Orlando, for the millionth time. “Who is it?”

“Adam Pascal,” I said, getting up. “I need something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” she said, following me into the kitchen. “Adam Pascal, man, Nick must be nearly wetting himself over that.”

“He was pretty happy, yeah,” I said, opening the freezer. I grabbed the bottle of vodka we kept for emergencies and set it on the counter while I got a shot glass out of the cupboard. I don’t normally drink, but right then, I needed to take the edge off.

“Woah, honey, what are you doing?” Lisa was giving me a dumbfounded look as I poured a small shot. I downed it in one gulp.

“Just a little drink,” I said, putting the vodka back. One shot was all I wanted. I put my shot glass in the sink. “Okay, don’t look at me like that.”

“How many times have you done that in the past week?” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

“That was the first time,” I said, grabbing the bottle again. I held it up. “See? It’s pretty much brand new.” I put the bottle away.

“Charlie, you need to talk about this,” she said, putting her arm around me and leading me into the living room. “I get that you’re trying to do this independent thing, but come on, everyone needs someone to talk to.”

“Well, I already had one break-down today,” I said, rolling my eyes as she sat me on the couch. “I don’t really need another.”

“Okay, what?”

I sighed. “I had a minor incident at the theatre, with Adam.”

“Adam Pascal?”

“Yes,” I said, tucking my legs underneath me. “We did ‘Without You’ from Rent, and afterwards, I sort of lost it.” I could feel my face heating up as I told her.

“What did he do?”

“He held me while I cried,” I said, marveling at how sweet it sounded coming out of my mouth. “He’s leaving his wife, so he knows how I feel.”

“Oh God, that’s awful,” she said. Then she smirked. “He’s hot, right?”

I had to laugh. “Yes, very,” I said, ignoring the guilty feeling that shot through me. It was not a crime to think another man was hot. And besides, Orlando and I weren’t even together. “I felt like such an idiot for losing it like that.”

“Music does funny things, doesn’t it?” Lisa said, a sympathetic expression on her face. “But seriously, honey, you need to talk about this.”

“Not right now, I don’t,” I said, looking at the clock. “I can’t be a basket case for the show tonight. Nick said I’ve been off lately, and I need to get back on my game. It’s bad enough my voice is only barely back to what it used to be, I can’t let personal crap jeopardize my work further.”

“How about after the show tonight we come home, get some ice cream, and really have it out?” she suggested. “You can just lay it all out, and be done with it. I mean, obviously it will take more than one night to get over it, but at least you’ll have been able to say everything you want to say, to really talk it through.”

I shrugged and looked at my hands, folded on my lap. “I suppose we could do that,” I said softly. “But, Lisa, I’m almost scared to do that.”

“Why?”
I sighed. “Because talking about it makes it real,” I said, finally admitting the truth to myself. “I guess I figured if I didn’t talk about it, it would just sort of go away, and I could pretend it didn’t happen.” A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed quickly, trying to get rid of it. “Lisa, he broke my heart.”

“I know, baby,” she said, leaning forward and hugging me. “We’ll talk it through tonight, and you can yell and scream and cry all you want to. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said.

A couple hours later, we were back at the theatre, to get ready for the show. I walked into the green room for warm-ups, and Adam and Nick were there, waiting for me. I took a deep breath and forced myself to go in.

“Hey, Charlotte,” Nick said, smiling warmly as I went over to the piano. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, trying not to blush. I figured, what the hell, I may as well get this over with. “Adam, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” he said.

We went down the hall to the empty auditorium, and I sat him down in the front row. I sat beside him.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened before,” I said, my voice low. “I didn’t mean to freak out like that, and I’m sorry.” I paused. “I also wanted to say thank you for not getting mad at me for it. I know it was strange, given that I just met you today.”

He smiled in the dim lighting. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, patting my hand. “To be honest, it felt totally natural to hold you like that. I guess that’s a good sign, right?”

“For the show, totally,” I said, relieved that he didn’t think I was weird. “Nick told me about your wife. I’m sorry.”

“These things happen,” he said. “He told me about your boyfriend, too. Sometimes these things just don’t work out, do they?”

“You know, it’s funny,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “I didn’t even see it coming, you know? There was no warning whatsoever.”
“That’s rough,” he said, and he seemed genuinely interested. “With my wife, we kind of knew where we were heading.”

I shook myself. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say.” I stood up. “I have to get to the warm-up. Are you going to watch the show?”

He rose, too. “I think so,” he said. “I’ve really enjoyed it the few times I’ve seen it this week. It helps me pick up the choreography.”

I nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” I hurried out of the auditorium. Something about being there with him like that made me uncomfortable. I found that he was easy to talk to, but I didn’t want him to be. I didn’t want to know about his life, and his problems. Yes, I wanted to be his friend, but I didn’t want to get too close. It was too soon, for both of us.

The show that night went well. It seemed as though my break-down really had made me feel better, and I was able to almost fully enjoy being on-stage again. Afterwards, as I was getting ready to go home with Lisa, an usher brought a big vase of roses to my dressing table.

“For you, Charlie,” he said, setting them down. They were red, white, and pink roses, about two dozen of them.

“Thanks,” I said, standing up to search for a card. The pink roses meant they could only be from one person. Orlando.

I found the card, and, to my surprise, they weren’t from him.

“Please, Charlie, talk to him. He needs you. Johnny.”

I sighed as I sat back down. Lisa came over, her eyes as big as saucers, a grin on her face. “See, I knew he’d come around,” she said, flopping down next to me.

“They’re not from him,” I said, handing her the card.

“Johnny?” she said, puzzled. “Oh my God, Johnny Depp?” I nodded. “Holy shit. Why is he sending you flowers?”

I told her about his phone call earlier that day, about how he’d wanted me to call Orlando. “I just can’t, you know?” I finished.

She stood up. “Let’s go home, and we can talk about this,” she said, her face unreadable. I rose, too, grabbed my flowers, and we left the theatre.

When we got home, Lisa grabbed the ice cream and some CDs from her room, and we set up on my bed. She popped some angry chick music into the CD player, sat back, grinned.

“Do we need vodka, or are we good with just Rocky Road?” she teased, opening the ice cream carton.

I smiled and handed her the bowls. “I think we’re good,” I said. “What are we listening to?”

“Lillix,” she said, handing me a bowl of ice cream. “They’re just what you need right now.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Whatever you say,” I said. I didn’t say anything for a minute, just ate my ice cream, then, “So, how do we do this?”

“However you want,” she said, putting a lid on the ice cream. “You’re the one who needs to vent.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” I said, pushing my spoon around in my bowl. “He broke up with me, completely out of the blue, with no warning.” I proceeded to tell her, in detail, exactly what Orlando had said. It didn’t take long for the tears to start flowing, and by the end, I was raccoon-eyed and trembling. It felt good to finally let it all out, to really say what I was thinking and feeling. My little break-down with Adam had been an emotional release, but I hadn’t talked about what was going through my mind.

“But the strange thing is,” I was saying, as I laid flat on my back, tears dripping down into my hair, “When he said there was no one else, he meant it. I thought maybe he wanted Kate, you know, since she’d called him a day or two before, but he seemed genuine when he said he loved only me.”

Lisa sighed as she gently wiped away my tears with a tissue. “Then maybe what he said about his schedule was true,” she said. “It’s very possible that he really is too busy.”

“It just seemed so weak,” I said, remembering his voice, and the look on his face. “He was almost talking himself into it, you know?”

“Would it really hurt to call him?” Lisa suggested as I sat up. “You’ve both had time to think, so maybe he can shed a little light on what he was feeling.”

“I don’t feel like groveling to him for answers,” I said. “If he wants to explain, he can call me.”

“You’re the most stubborn bitch I’ve ever met,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not a crime to love him still, you know.” She looked over at the flowers on my dresser. “He’s obviously miserable if his friends are sending you roses to get you to talk to him. Johnny’s probably trying just as hard to get Orlando to take the first step.”

As if on cue, the phone rang. Lisa reached over and grabbed it. “Heartbreak Hotel,” she said. “If you’re not depressed when you get here, you will be when you leave.” She paused. “Oh, uh, hang on.” She covered the mouth piece with her hand. “It’s Orlando,” she whispered.

My stomach lurched as I reached for the phone. A million thoughts sprang into my mind, and I felt short of breath. “What do I say?” I mouthed to Lisa. She shrugged, her eyes wide. “Hello?” I said into the phone, my voice shaking.

“Charlie,” Orlando breathed, relief in his voice. “I didn’t know if you’d take my call.”

“I’m tempted to hang up,” I said, the raw hurt coming back in waves. “So you’d better make this good.”

“I just wanted to see how you are,” he said, his tone turning somewhat formal. “I know Johnny rang you.”

“He sent me flowers, too,” I said, almost haughtily. “And I told him the same thing I’m going to tell you: It’s none of your business how I’m doing. You gave up the right to care when you broke my heart, remember?”

“Don’t be like that,” he said, hurt in his voice. “I still want to be your friend.”

“Fuck that,” I said, anger swelling up in me. “You can’t just blindside me the way you did, and then expect me to forgive and forget. I’m quite content with hating you right now.”

“You know that’s not true,” he said, his voice low. “You can’t hate me any more than I could ever hate you.”

“Actually,” I said snottily, “I can.” It wasn’t true, but he didn’t need to know that. “You give me some bullshit about your schedule that I know damn well you don’t believe, you tell me you love me too much to be with me, and then you decide you want to be my friend? What’s next? Are you going to ask me to give you fringe benefits, too? Maybe a quick jump in the sack when you’re in town?” The more I talked, the angrier I got, and the more it hurt. Lisa reached over and took my hand as the tears began to slide down my face again.

“Charlie, please, just hear me out,” Orlando said. “I think this whole thing is getting out of hand. I’m not going to ask you for anything you don’t want to give me, because I know you’re angry. Once that passes, you’ll see I was right.”

“Or I’ll just see what I already see,” I snapped. “That you’re an asshole, a Hollywood brat who does whatever he wants, without any regard for anyone else. You say you love me, Orlando, but you’re not capable of loving anyone but yourself.” I hung up.

“Woah,” Lisa said, staring at me. “That was harsh. Remind me to never piss you off.” The phone rang. “Do you want me to get that?” I nodded and handed her the phone. “Yes?” she answered, then paused, listening. “Look, she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Pause. “I can’t make her take the phone, Orlando, you know that.”

I got up and left the room. I could hear her talking to him as I sank down on the sofa, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. It was a good fifteen minutes before she came out of my room.

“Do I dare ask what that was about?” I said as she sat beside me.

“He’s sort of regretting his choice,” she said. “The poor guy’s suffering, Charlie. I think he wants you back.”

“Who’s side are you on?” I said, throwing a pillow at her. I fought to ignore the rush of hope that was swelling in my chest. I couldn’t just shove the hurt away and forget what he’d put me through, even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t.

“Yours, of course,” she said, handing the pillow back to me. “That’s why I think you should talk to him. You know you two are great together. It’s so obvious it’s sickening.”

“Don’t lie,” I said, fighting the urge to smile.

“I’m not,” she said. “I didn’t want to say anything before, because I wasn’t sure where Orlando was coming from, but, honey, now that I’m sure he’s not too secure in his decision, I can say it.”

“Say what?”

“You are never as happy as when you’re with him,” she said. “You don’t smile the same when he’s not around, and you don’t light up the same way. You need him as much as he needs you, and you just can’t admit it.”

“That’s crap, and you know it,” I said, choosing to get angry rather than admit she was right. “He’s only a man, just like half the population out there. Nothing special.”

“Other than he worships the ground you walk on,” she said, smirking. “You can give me that shit all you want, but deep down, you know I’m right.”

“You’re awfully mushy tonight, you know,” I said. “I thought we were supposed to be angry, remember?”

She shook her head. “You want to be angry, but now that I know both sides, I’m not going to let you.”

“What did he say to you?” I said, narrowing my eyes. I had a sneaking suspicion there was more to this than she was telling me.

“None of your business,” she said bluntly. “All you need to know is that he’s hurting just as much as you are, but you’re too stubborn and pig-headed to realize that you don’t have to feel that way.”

I stood up, cutting her off. “I don’t want to listen to this,” I said. “I’m going to bed. Come get your crappy ass music out of my room.”

She followed me into my bedroom. “Okay,” she said, annoyed. “You be an idiot, be as stupid as you’d like, but if you keep this up, he may not be there when you come around.” She grabbed her CDs and the ice cream and left, closing the door behind her.

I sat down on the bed and reached into my nightstand. I pulled out the framed picture of Orlando and me, the one my aunt took during our first two weeks together. We looked so happy, so in love, it made me ache to see it. Everything Lisa had said was right, I was still desperately in love with him. I wanted nothing more than to go back to what we had, to how simple it had been to just love him, to revel in the feeling. I flopped back on my pillows, hugging the picture to my chest, and let the tears come again. I swear, if I’d bottled all the tears I’d cried in the past week, I could have ended a drought in a small country. I rolled over onto my side and eventually went to sleep, the picture still clutched in my hands.