Page 80 of The Actor: Harrison

When we walk through the living room doors, I’m taken aback at the disheveled state Harrison is in. He’s hunched over his computer, hair sticking up and his face a sick shade of gray.

“You told me he was fine!” I say turning toward Aaron and startling Harrison.

“He is fine.” Aaron chuckles as Harrison stands up from the couch.

He’s wearing a dirty, crumpled t-shirt and stained gray sweatpants. He looks far from fine.

“What are you doing here?” he asks confused, approaching me.

I notice the dark circle under his eyes and turn toward Aaron, giving him my most scolding glare.

“He looks bad, but I promise he’s fine,” he says, waving at us and walking out of the house from the same set of doors we came in and murmuring, “I’ll leave you alone, I don’t want to watch you making out,” or something like that.

Harrison grabs me by the shoulders and I finally turn toward him. All my nervousness transforms into worry.

“What happened to you? Why is your phone turned off? And why do you look like you went through hell and back?” I ask in a rush.

“Geez, thanks!” He chuckles.

“I’m serious, Harrison. What happened? I’m worried about you,” I say seriously and his laugh sobers up.

He guides me to the couch and I sit next to him. There are glasses on the coffee table and plates with half-eaten meals. It looks like he’s been living on this couch, forgetting about the rest of the house.

“I did a thing,” he blurts out without explaining further.

I wait for a long moment, then I grab his chin and force him to look at me. He seems almost shy and it scares me more than knowing he won’t forgive me.

“Harrison, you are freaking me out,” I plead.

He takes a deep breath. “I wrote a screenplay.”

I stare at him not knowing what to say. I expected a lot of things, bad ones, but this was not on the list. I’m happy because I always knew he had it in him, but I’m also puzzled because he hid it from me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I made a mistake and I tried to fix it, but I’m not sure this screenplay is good enough to fix it,” he rambles and I don’t understand.

“What? Stop there. You wrote a screenplay because you thought you could fix things between us?” I ask, dumbfounded.

He blushes. He actually blushes, looking down at his hands in his lap.

“I realize I fucked up when I stole your movie.” He raises a hand to stop me when I try to argue. “Let me finish, please.”

I nod.

“I stole that movie from you. Because you didn’t want me in it and I imposed myself. I get it. I made a mistake and there is no other way to fix it other than giving you another movie good enough for you to direct,” he explains and my heart cracks a bit.

What he did is so huge and so amazing there are no words to describe it. He found a way to literally start over and fix his mistake. Nobody has ever done something like this for me.

“Harrison, I came here to apologize to you,” I say and he frowns. I know he can’t understand so I continue. “I don’t trust myself when I’m around you. I always second guess my judgement because I’m so in love with you that I don’t know if I’m blinded by my feelings or if what I’m doing with you is actually good.”

“I don’t know if this is good or bad.” He smiles.

“Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s bad. Sometimes I’m so insecure that I don’t know if I’m doing a good job or not. When we work together, I’m sometimes lost because those feelings are so strong I don’t know anything else. But I have to learn how to separate my work life from my personal one and I can’t do it without you. When you didn’t tell me how much you were involved in this movie, I thought I made a mistake in trusting you. I thought my judgement was clouded by my feelings and I…freaked out.”

He nods and takes his time to think about it. He’s not pushing me away, but he’s not letting me off the hook either.

“Are you going to say something?” My voice is small, and even if I try to put a smile on my face I’m sure he can tell how nervous I am.

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