Page 54 of The Actor and His Secret

‘This is your doing, boy.’

I looked up the stairs to where father stood, breathing heavy, expression the mask of the monster I knew him to be. I didn’t think. I only acted. I bent down, picked up a shard of glass from the shattered frame, and ran up the stairs to face him -

Arms engulf me, finally dragging me out of the memory. I leave it behind, refusing to see what happens next.

‘Accidents happen, Nikos. The world is a terrible and cruel place. And sometimes, not everything has a cause.’ Oli consoles me as my tears soak his linen shirt. ‘It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault.’

It was there, on the tip of my tongue, to tell him that he was wrong. My father had killed my mother in a fit of panic and rage. But I could never tell anyone that. If I did, it would only invite more questions.

As my father told me that day, his arm bleeding where I’d slashed him, his neck bruised black from the grasp of my hands. ‘Your handprints are all over her, and now me. Tell anyone what I did, and you will be the one to be convicted.’

It takes a moment for me to gather myself. When I do, I give myself a few more selfish moments of Oli’s hold before I pull away, dust off the emotion, and regain control. ‘I shouldn’t have off-loaded that all on you. This is meant to be a nice break. A chance to get away. Instead, I’m spoiling it.’

‘Nikos Adonis Ridge, I swear if you say something like that again, I will take you down to the beach and drown you myself.’ Oli is deadpan when he threatens me, and yet I know he’d never. ‘You’re allowed to have emotions. I know you’re used to being this super-star actor who’s more robot than person. But remember, with me, you get to be someone else - your true self. We all have demons. Sometimes you banish them alone, and other times you need a little help.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, wanting nothing more than to forget this conversation. Yes, it has lightened the load a little bit, but not enough. I will never escape my haunting past - not when my father still uses it like a noose, tightening year by year.

When I ran away from home after my mother’s burial, when the police case was closed and confirmed as an accident, I never looked back. My father didn’t get in touch until he saw me modelling in a magazine. His demands for money got bigger and bigger the more gigs I got. Then, when the acting jobs rolled around, I was practically giving every penny just to keep him from ruining the life I’d created. Everyone thought I’d blown my money on drugs, alcohol, and women. I hadn’t had the energy to combat the assumptions, but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Nikos Ridge, the mummy murderer.

Nikos Ridge, his father’s son.

Nikos Ridge, the monster.

‘There must be some nice memories here,’ Oli says, cheeks reddening. ‘I found some family pictures, and you looked so happy. Carefree. Let’s focus on those for the rest of the day, shall we?’

I swallow the bile down. The idea of Oli laying eyes on my father, even in a picture, makes me want to burn the house down. But he wasn’t wrong. We’d had a good life before father lost his job and turned to drinking, that’s when the physical abuse started.

‘There were a few,’ I choke on a deranged laugh. ‘Just so long ago that it’s easier to ignore, you know?’

‘I get it,’ Oli says. ‘I challenge you, Adonis, to tell me one memory that you love about your mother. Something you did with her maybe. Let’s distract you, and help you remember the good times over the…bad.’

Impossible. But for Oli, I would try.

I clear my eyes with the back of my hand. ‘Me and my mother, we used to cook together. In fact, it’s thanks to her that I eat more than instant noodles and fried food every day. I’m not the best, but she taught me.’

‘See. That’s beautiful. What was the one thing you used to cook together that you have fond memories of? Maybe we can do it together, refresh those memories with new ones?’

The answer was easy. In fact, it was almost divine. I hadn’t had the connection until Oli asked the question, but as I did my heart swelled in my chest, tripling in size.

‘There was a dish, something sweet, that I think you’ll enjoy.’

Oli leans in, leaning his head back to look up at me. ‘I’m listening.’

‘Loukoumades,’ I say, cheeks pricking at the thought of them. ‘They’re like donuts, but Greek. But the best part about them…’

‘Yes?’

‘Is they are drizzled in honey, Honey.’

His smile is bright and overwhelming. I long to imprint it on my mouth and think of nothing else but the curves of his lips. ‘That sounds -’

‘Like fate?’ I answer without thinking.

‘Yes,’ Oli replies, blinking at me, lost to the connection between me, him and my past. ‘Like fate.’

Not wanting to think of anything but this, I take his hand and guide him to the kitchen. When we enter, I don’t even contemplate the stairs. I think of nothing but cooking with Oli, making new memories that would last a lifetime.

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