I squeezed his hand tightly in mine, completely bewildered that he was finally here with me. My heart that was once so devastated with thoughts of losing him was now being stitched back together, like it was never shattered in the first place. His love for me was just the glue I needed, restoring me back to whole.
I knew I could never make the same mistakes again. My insecurities needed to be replaced with trust and assuredness. I would never doubt his love for me or his intentions to have a long life together. Still, I was afraid that if I blinked too many times that I would wake up from this wonderful dream of togetherness.
“That was good pizza,” Ryan said, trying to stifle a burp, but failing at it. His body was making all sorts of noises.
“If your fans only knew!” I teased, giving him a nudge with my hip. “It would definitely blow your whole mysterious, sexy image thing! That was weak, by the way. I’m hardly impressed. I give that one a 2.7.”
“See, this is why I love you. You don’t judge my foulness, you grade it!” He wrapped his arm over my shoulder, putting me in another teasing headlock. I reached up his jacket, playfully retaliating by tickling him in the ribs.
Ryan nodded his chin towards the theater after he twined my fingers back into his. “I bet you a million bucks that George Clooney has his vile moments too,” he joked.
“There’s no way I’m taking that bet! I’m smart enough to know that underneath the movie star facades and special effects makeup are nothing more than beer-drinking, burping, fartypants men.”
“Yep,” he and his body agreed. “But put us in an Armani tux and we look good!”
The Galaxy Theatre was one of our town’s historic landmarks, having been in existence since the 1930’s. It had the old style ticket booth and fancy marquee lights illuminating the title of the feature movie. By the time we reached the theater, no one was in line.
We purchased a bucket of popcorn and a soda at the tiny concession stand and then made our way into the dimly lit theater.
“This place is cool!” Ryan whispered, loosening his scarf just a bit. We had the back row all to ourselves. I noticed him glancing around at the interior - the art-deco wallpaper, thick red velvet drapes bordering the stage, ornate chandeliers and sconces on the walls – it was very reminiscent of an era when films shaped our society.
Ryan stuck his hand in the bucket of popcorn, laughing at the silliness of the old Tom and Jerry cartoon that played on the screen. He was able to enjoy an entire night out without any interference from the paparazzi or enamored fans.
“You know, when I take you to the Reparation premier in a few days your theater experience is going to be much different from this,” he whispered privately.
“I know,” I said as visions of thousands of screaming fans passed through my thoughts. “And I’m ready for it.”
“It will be your warm-up for the insanity yet to come in July,” he continued, a hint of nervous apprehension and regret accompanied his words. I instantly knew he was referring to the Seaside premier, which would be a three-week multi-country tour.
I rested my head on his shoulder to enjoy the movie, but even more so, this time we finally had together. Ryan softly kissed my forehead and whispered “I love you.” It was precious moments like these that made life worth living.
Unfortunately with all blissfully sweet moments, there must always be a few not so good ones mixed in between. I suppose it’s what keeps the balance.
The very next day, I stood there in our bedroom, helplessly watching as he packed another suitcase. His basic needs were fulfilled… clean socks and underwear shoved around a stack of clean shirts and jeans, another script and some gum packed in his carry-on bag next to his laptop.
His other needs, those that could only be met by his lover, were hopefully fulfilled to the best of my abilities as well.
“You have my schedule in your calendar?” Ryan asked as he hauled his suitcase down the steps.
“Yes,” I answered, confirming for the third time that my new phone was synched with his.
“I checked e-mail - all the flight itineraries are there. And there will be a car waiting for you when you land, Mrs. Bailey.” Ryan smirked. “Marla’s assistant is making the arrangements for your…”
“Honey, I know,” I said softly, slipping my fingers into his front pockets to hold onto him for a minute longer. “Don’t worry! I already talked to Trish.
Everything will be fine. I promise to look smashing for each of the premiers!” I beamed.
“Oh, don’t forget your passport,” he reminded.