Page 41 of The Location Shoot
“You can use my trailer if you want,” he offered.
“Thanks, but I need fresh clothes. See you at dinner?”
“Sure. See you later, sweetheart.”
“Good luck with the rest of the shoot.”
Ella arrived back at the house ready to head upstairs when she heard someone playing a melancholic tune on the piano. She peeked into the dining room and saw Albie sitting at the piano, a glass of amber liquor beside him. He took his hands off the keys when he saw her and slid over on the bench so she could sit beside him.
He looked at her and asked, “What the hell happened to you?”
“Adventure in the forest. How’s your day off been?”
He shrugged, picked up his glass, and took a sip.
“Kind of early to be drinking, don’t you think?”
“I’m on London time,” he replied.
“It’s an hour earlier there,” she said, crinkling her nose.
“Ah, that’s right,” he said. His eyes were galaxies away.
She placed her hand on his. “Albie, please talk to me. What’s going on?”
He sighed, picked up her hand, and placed her fingers on the piano keys. “Play with me, like that time in Barcelona.”
Without another word spoken, she began playing the higher note keys on the right. She paused and he played the low keys on the left. They went back and forth, eventually playing simultaneously. They played in beautiful harmony, effortlessly in tune with each other. When the song ended, she took his hand and asked, “Are you ill again?”
“Yes,” he replied softly.
“How long?” she asked.
“I started having symptoms about a week and a half before I came here. This is my third bout, so I recognized the signs immediately.”
“Did you go to the doctor?”
He shook his head.
“Albie, why not? You should be at home getting treatment.”
“That’s not for me, not anymore. When I beat it the second time, I knew that was my last shot. I’ve squeezed all the time I can out of this tired old body. I can’t go through chemo again. At my age, it’s not how I choose to spend the time I have left.”
“Then wouldn’t you like to be at home with Margaret?”
“Working keeps me going. After forty years of marriage, she understands that. Rest assured, I’ll spend my last moments with her, passing away peacefully in her arms.” Ella smiled softly and he continued, “This will be my last film. I wanted to be a part of something special, just one more time, and create a piece of art to leave behind long after I’m gone. Jean knocking on my door again at this moment in my life was fate, I have no doubt about that.” He shook his head and laughed. “Can you believe we’re making a bloody film about the meaning of life and I’m dying? My character represents mortality, for Christ’s sake. Bloody hell, it’s true I suppose, eventually life does imitate art. Wicked, isn’t it?”
“I’m glad you haven’t lost your spirit.” She patted his hand and chuckled.
“Never.”
Ella gestured at the glass with eyebrows raised.
“It’s not what you think, not really. I’m not drowning my sorrows or drinking day and night. It’s pain management.”
“Are you in a lot of discomfort?”
“This old bag of bones has seen better days, but I’m okay. I’ve been able to get through the shoots each day, sometimes feeling just fine. I need a little anesthetic in the evening to smooth over the rough edges.”
