Page 72 of Beyond the Bright Lights

My words shake, and I hate myself for showing Rebecca my vulnerability. She's going to feed off it.

Except . . . she doesn’t and pulls me into another hug that I don’t hate this time. It actually cracks the emotional walls I’d built for this very moment.

“I’m sorry. I really am. When I emailed you earlier this year to tell you filming would begin this summer, you didn’t respond. I didn’t expect you to. Then when I found out we were shooting here on location, I knew if I told you, you would have felt obligated to get involved again. I knew you didn’t want that. I was trying to respect your wishes.”

I close my eyes, digesting her explanation. I suppose I can understand. I hadn’t answered her emails, texts, or phone calls in years. I brought this upon myself. All I had to do was respond, to ask for more information.

“And I did not expect that actor to find you and ask for your help. He shouldn’t have done that.”

She holds me at arm's length, brushing a fallen piece of hair out of my face.

“You’re much stronger than me, you realize that, right?”

I inhale sharply, not expecting her to say that. I study Rebecca’s sincerity, my eyes scanning her face—a face too similar to Tyler’s: eyes, mouth, a short stubby nose. Looking at Rebecca used to be disheartening, but now, seeing the shadow of Tyler, it’s almost . . . comforting.

“You were able to move on. Me? I coped by writing the book. I’m healing through this movie. But honestly, I think it’s making me miss him more than ever. How crazy is that? It’s been—”

“Eighteen years,” we say together.

“Yeah,” she laughs.

“I haven’t moved on though. Not really.”

She tilts her head, releasing my arms. She takes a step back and smooths her outfit, a dark purple wrap dress that shows off all her curves—too fancy for a movie set.

“Haven’t you?”

“What?”

“The actor. How’s that been going?”

The sudden change in her demeanor tells me she knows the answer. She’s seen the pictures and now she’s demanding an explanation.

“Working with Mylan has been great.”

She snorts. “I bet.”

“I’m serious. I’m grateful I was able to guide him and make sure he doesn’t mess this up, but you know what else I realized while helping Mylan? I still have a lot of healing left. This grief, it’s endless and exhausting.”

The defensive front she’s showcasing eases slightly.

“Right. I . . . I’m sorry. The stories, the photos . . . it looked like . . .”

“Like I replaced Tyler with the man who’s about to portray him in a movie?” I sigh on my words.

Rebecca grimaces. “Yes, but I don’t really believe you replaced Tyler. It’s just strange seeing you with someone else so publicly.” She pauses and frowns. “My therapist tells me I get defensive to shield my own grief. I think that’s what I just did to you with the accusations.”

“It’s fine. I understand.” The Rebecca I used to know would never admit to being wrong. She’d never apologize for those wrongs either.

“I’m serious. I’m sorry I did that to you because I really do hope you’ve moved on. You deserve it. More than anyone.”

My throat aches with tears waiting to fall the moment I think, or talk, about Tyler and the life we should have had together. Of course, Rebecca had to be the one to set them free with her kind words. Words I never expected from her.

I reach out and take Rebecca’s hands in mine. “He would have been so proud of you. The book was a beautiful eulogy to him. And this movie . . .” I wave my hand around the set. “. . . you’re bringing his legacy to life.”

Rebecca’s bottom lip shakes and now she’s crying and I'm crying, and we’re standing in the middle of the busy movie set, hugging. Crew members in motion, preparing to shoot the first scene of the day, dodge us left and right. Yet no one interrupts us. No one tells us to move out of the way. They know who we are. They must because they give us space.

“Tell me more about Mylan,” Rebecca says as we part.

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