Like a dramatic scene from An Affair to Remember, he glanced across the street and all I could say was “Hello.”
Taking a step forward then back as he almost became unfortunate golf-cart road-pizza in the midway at the studio, we eventually made our way (in slow motion) to a reminiscent hug/double-cheek-face-kiss.
“How are you Darling?” he wrapped an affectionate arm around me, the smell of his leather jacket so familiar, even after over a year apart from working together on a painfully tedious show that brought a unique closeness to the cast and crew during brutal 14 hour days. (Now, not to prick you with a thorn in the rose of my potentially beautiful cinematic moment, but seriously, fourteen hour days on a multi-camera Sit-com?)
Nevertheless, we had bonded together there; and even with the passage of time I was certain that despite his proper English upbringing, our reunion would be a teary one regarding the forbidden romance that might have been were he not my Director. And flashing back to sentimental moments of loaning him my lighter (our hands touched at least TWICE during those six months!) and exchanging a most proper British hug at the wrap party (“Sorry, I probably smell like beer and stale cigarettes” he had said apologetically (oh, the blatant seduction!)), I gazed into his big brown doe eyes on this day, in this new year, awaiting the heartfelt words that he could finally, openly, express to me now that we were no longer co-workers.
“That was nearly a frightful recreation from the horror film Final Destination” he shuddered as the golf cart sped away.
(Okay. So perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic opening line I’d ever heard…)
“So what are you working on, Luv?” he asked good-naturedly, my lil heart leaping at his recollection of the secret nickname he had called me for half a year on camera (a subtle yet undeniable declaration of his undying passion for me) that he happened to occasionally use on other people in order to throw off the scent of anyone who might become suspicious of his actual feelings. And sharing the happiness at the success of my current show and the likely longevity of the series, he embraced me once again. (!!!) “Well, I’d best be heading back on stage before they start looking for me, but I hope to see you this week Luv!” he smiled. (Incorrigible!)
>>><<<
Oblivious to the whereabouts of my future fiancé (who may or may not have entered the Men’s Restroom), I lingered outside the stage door busily familiarizing myself with the names of our guest cast on the call sheet when I heard the distinctly familiar English accent shouting out to me.
“Good morning Penny” he waved cheerily, as I looked up in utter surprise.
“Good morning” I beamed; chin-to–shoulder like a schoolgirl.
“Have a brilliant day Penny!” he added, buttoning his statement with two thumbs up.
(Oh, the implications spoke volumes!)
Clearly other people on the studio lot had deciphered our secret code, and the only obvious choice he could make was to call me by my first name so as to seem more credible as a Director. (After all, digging through countless lists of crew members would hardly look professional had he deigned to have to “pretend” to “re-discover” my first name!)
And whilst I couldn’t quite place a Cary Grant film in which that particularly charming English actor enthusiastically gave his leading lady a hearty ‘thumbs up’, I was certain that the conveyance was yet a further silent declaration of our unspoken bond.
>>><<<
But as many of the fabulous love stories in Hollywood tend to end tragically, alas, so did mine with my beloved Englishman. (Thankfully, no golf carts were involved.)
Engaged in casual conversation with my ‘future ex-husband’ and two of my co-workers the next day, we chatted for an eternity (or a few minutes) and eventually parted ways amiably at the end of a lunch break, the last tryst we would share until our paths will hopefully cross again.
Sure the differences in our ages would forever be an issue (he’s nearly a decade younger than me), he’s easily mistaken for an actor (or an underwear model), and whilst my ‘on-lot-cred’ may have leapt exponentially in the eyes of female Executives motoring about the studio eyeballing the handsome Brit talking to me, I had to accept the inevitable fact that he would always be a Director courting other shows…
And walking into the Ladies Room, I sighed a melancholy sigh. (Is there any other kind?)
But as I’m no longer one who indulges in the misfortunes randomly doled out by The Universe, I courageously faced the world ala the disabled Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember, resigned to sacrifice my selfish desires for the greater good. And taking to heart the joy of seeing my own long lost love, I vowed to cherish the moment of our last encounter and smiled bravely at the mirror – a powerful image that would stay with me for an eternity…
Not unlike the dazzling engagement ring on Kate Middleton’s finger, the chunk of oregano from my garlic bread and meatball lunch glistened brightly, an extraordinarily magnificent leaf perfectly latched securely onto the front of my left tooth.
(Awesome.)
Stalking you all with love this Valentine's Day,
~Princess P
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