Casually Cruel

22

"It felt like the perfect night."

"Ali - the Pear Party was perfect." Steve gestured dramatically, "It could not have gone better if we'd directed it ourselves. You were this mysterious it-girl who makes movie stars weak in the knees, and I am now on a first-name basis with Hozier."

"How is Andrew? Is he still enamoured of that girl?"

"For now."

"You're incorrigible."

"And you are beautiful. Thank you for coming to this meet and greet. I've missed you and I hate that you're stuck here playing scientist while I'm off making our dreams come true."

Ali and Steve were standing backstage at a small theatre at the Toronto International Film Festival, six months since winning at South by Southwest. She'd agreed to this appearance because it didn't mean travelling. Ali had given tickets to her entire research team and was a special kind of nervous.

"Stop pulling at your hem, or you'll stretch out the fabric and completely ruin my vision."

"Stop being a bully and promise me to only go for mid-calf skirts, or I will stop letting you pick my outfits for these things."

After the Pear Party, Ali had flown back to work and tried to put her embarrassment behind her. Unfortunately, her efforts had the opposite effect. She'd become more popular than ever. She'd even had to give in and hire an Agent with a management team to handle the call volume. Now here she was, about to walk on stage and wave in front of her academic colleagues.

When the Emcee - some Canadian radio personality - called their names, Steve burst onto the small stage in front of the screen with what Ali could only call star power. He beamed and waved and laughed, somehow managing to toe the line between humility and presence. Ali simply walked out - tried a tentative smile, and took her place beside Steve. She stood with her hands at her sides with an unstudied elegance.

"Before we start the show, do you want to set us up?" The Emcee handed Steve the mic, and Steve being Steve, passed the mic to Ali.

"You've got this."

Ali took a deep breath, looked out at the dark theatre and laughed charmingly. "Steve and I have been making movies together since we were children. This film is the culmination of years of friendship and the meeting of artistic visions that are not the same but instead enrich each other through their differences. We had a unique opportunity to spend a summer working together on a scale that our 8-year-old selves could never have imagined. I think that's what makes this film so special. I think that's why it connects with people - because it is a little piece of both of our hearts. Thank you so much for coming - for the warm reception - and for validating our efforts. Please enjoy!"

The crowd clapped politely, but to Ali, it was thunderous. A slight warmth started to glow somewhere in the bottom left of her heart, spreading through her whole body.Grinning, she turned to Steve. "Don't you ever do that to me again?"

"You did a great job! Your Supervisor will be super impressed, and almost half of this audience is in love with you. The rest are, of course, in love with me."

They sat together, squeezing each other's hands as the title sequence began.

Ali never got sick of watching their movie on the big screen. It was magic. It wasn't perfectly executed and didn't live up to the vision she had in her mind, but maybe it was better this way. Her and Steve - making magic. She lost herself in it enough that she forgot it was her face on the screen. All she saw was the characters - all she knew was their world. Then it was over, and they were ushered back on stage and into chairs for a Q&A.

"What inspired you?"

"How did you maintain your friendship for all these years while working together?"

"Is the central character based off of a real person?"

"How many cameras did you use? What kind?"

"How did you achieve that effect in the third act?"

Steve handled most of the questions, with Ali peppering in a few additional comments.

Then, as if he were an apparition, Jon Gustafsson was at the mic. It was like the whole room held its breath.

"Hi." His lips twisted up in a shy half-smile. "My question is for Alison Madeline Owens."His eyes crinkled, and he looked at her like they were the only two people in the world. "Would you have coffee with me?"The crowd gasped. Cameras clicked and flashed, and Jon Gustafsson stood there in all his casual glory. A man in impeccably tailored slacks and a crisp button-down shirt, open at the throat.

"Um..." He shrugged boyishly as if to ask, 'What have you got to lose?' "Okay. Yes. Sure. I will have coffee with you. And um. Thanks for sending me that replacement dress."

The cheer was deafening. Ali's face was the colour of a hot tomato, and Steve laughed out loud, putting his arm around Ali and grabbing the mic.

"What a note to go out on! Enjoy the rest of the festival, everyone!"

Steve guided Ali off the stage, and Jon met them in the back behind the curtains. They exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up the next afternoon after the screening of his film.

That night, when Steve and Ali found themselves at a party full of hipsters pretentiously discussing the merits of various lens choices and which movies aren't as good as they think they are, Ali couldn't stop thinking about Jon.