Ellie is Cool Now

Chapter 34

My childhood desk is white painted wood with a pink upholstered chair. It's got a slim drawer in the front, pens and Post-Its still stashed inside. I pull one out, a red one, and take it with me to the bed. Mark's script sits there, crisp, bound by brackets, his name printed in ink on the front beneath the title.

Dad came to get me from the hospital. I couldn't call Mark.

I can't stop thinking about what Roxy asked, about what comes next. Am I really going to ask Mark to move to LA after we've only been on one date? After one night of screwing around? Mark is still a man who just broke up with his fiancée, a woman he allegedly loved for six years. He's still a man who just figured out he wants more from life than a bakery job in Stonybrook.

He's still a man who has a lot of shit to untangle.

I'm still a woman who has a job and a life far away from everything he knows, from everything that's familiar and easy for him. In the short time we've been together, he's never once said he was ready to drop it all and move to LA. He never said he wanted to do what it took to make his dream come true. He didn't even say what his dream actually was.

I couldn't call Mark. If I ask him all my questions and he doesn't have an answer, what happens? What if he does, but his answer isn't what I hope it will be? Because anything less than, "I'm packing my bags and hocking the couch on Craigslist," will mean he isn't sure. And I want him to be sure. About me and his choices and what comes next. Mark needs space to figure all of this out, and I need to get back to LA.

I flick on Pandora ocean sounds and settle in to read.

We had a deal, and he held up his end of the bargain.

Now, it's time for me to hold up mine.

It never takes long to read a good script. Especially one that makes you laugh.

I leave a slew of notes in the margins, mostly addressing pacing problems and second act wobbles, but it's good. Better than I expected, despite the fact that I've always thought he was smart and that in the last few days I've discovered that he knows how to make me laugh. It gives me a little inkling of hope that he's got the spark, and he'll be able to do the work if he wants to. If he decides to see it through.

But that's his decision, not mine.

I slide the script and a small handwritten note into a large manila envelope and seal it. I'm the asshole who breaks up a soon-to-be-marriage only to leave the guy in the dust.

I tell myself that whatever happens with Mark in the future, what we had this week was still worth it. Will still feel right to him even if I'm not here in the morning to wake up to. He's sent me more than a few texts and called three times. I haven't replied at all. When he gets this, he'll know.

He'll understand everything. Or maybe he won't.

I just hope he doesn't hate me forever.

What are you doing, Ellie? What the hell are you doing?

My heart palpitates its dissent and I chalk it up to acid reflux, popping a few TUMS for good measure just as my phone starts to ring with a FaceTime call from Vic and Tina. I answer, propping the phone on my vanity so I can talk while I pack.

"You did not finish the list. Why the hell are you coming home?" Vic asks, his slightly shrill but totally endearing voice like music to my ears.

"I will deal with the Andy situation when I get back," I say. "The Ellie is Cool Now storyline has come to an abrupt and shocking end."