You, him, us | Andrew Garfield + Barry Keoghan

Capítulo 2

I sigh and run my hands over my black dress one more time to make sure it's not wrinkled. I analyze my image in the mirror, I look so different that I'm afraid they won't recognize me. This dress was carefully delivered in the morning by the hands of a hurried assistant, covered in a laundry bag. The piece is from an important brand whose clothes I never even considered looking in shop windows or fashion shows because they are so expensive. And now I'm wearing it. Gael appears behind me and kisses the back of my neck.

"You're the most beautiful person in the world, did you know that?"

I crane my neck and kiss his cheek. He adjusts his jacket and I look at him in the mirror, with his neatly cut hair and flashy shoes against his dark blue suit. I think we look pretty cool after all. Gael was born for this, he loves these kinds of events, the intrusive interviews with microphones shoved in his face, the screaming fans with cellphones held out, the bright flashes and the desperate photographers behind them. While all this is happening, I become invisible, avoiding appearing cornered in the background of the photos because it depresses me later. I wasn't made for the spotlight and I don't feel comfortable being the date that publicists try to force into some of the pictures that will appear on gossip sites and mean fashion posts. In those moments I feel like my life isn't real and that feeling numbs me, the sounds get muffled and all I see is a blur.

We talked about this a few times and naturally we came to a balance between my sanity and the support I want to give to one of the most important person in my life. So if you look closely, you'll see that Gael brings a lot of people along, basically any friend who wants to have a taste of the glamor of the film industry and is free on the date. But whenever I feel it's important to him that I'm there, I will be. So half an hour later, I take a deep breath, accept the hand Gael holds out to me, and get out of the car.

We spend two hours immersed in dense drama and Gael smiles and kisses my hand when he realizes I'm crying. I'm a crybaby, but seeing him suffering, even if it's a lie, puts me in a very strange mood, as if I'll never be happy again. When the movie ends the room erupts in applause, I wipe away the last tears and give Gael a long hug. We pass into a large hall already full of waiters with trays full of small portions of food. We stuff napkins with them and eat in a corner before people start to approach with extravagant compliments and pats on the back.

I'm starting to disassociate after the third bespectacled man in his sixties says the same things as his predecessors, but I try to keep smiling. Gael is still as excited as he was the first time and I'm proud of him, but I can't anymore. I look around and see Anna, an actress who worked with Gael on another film and whom I met at a dinner party. She nods at me and my desperation to talk to someone who knows who I am is so great that I almost run to approach her.

She says it's good to see me and we talk about the movie for a while. She tells me she's going to make her debut at the theater and invites me to see the play the following week. I say I'll be there for sure and she thanks me.

"Are you working on a new script?", she asks in a low voice, as if I work with state secrets and not independent films.

I smile and try to explain some of the plot to her without breaking the rules of my contract - and gain a little energy from this conversation. When Anna is invited to meet someone someone knows, I'm alone again and decide to get some air, but I struggle with how to do that without running into the photographers who usually stand vigil outside parties to catch someone going out drunk and asking indiscreet questions.

I discover a side door that must be used to bring in equipment and it leads to a garage. I go out there. Not quite the fresh air I needed, but at least it's empty. I open the tiny bag I brought with me and once again am surprised that my cell phone fits in it. The only two other things in there are a lighter and a joint, which I take out carefully, assessing whether it has survived the confined space. I think about sitting on the curb that separates the parking spaces from the pedestrian area, but I feel sorry for my dress and lean against the wall instead, wanting the sofa at home more than anything. I light the cigarette and watch the tip burn quickly before I inhale. In seconds I feel my body relax and I think that if the dress doesn't survive sitting on the floor, then it's not worth what it costs. I try a way to get down without tearing it, completely clumsy, and I almost burn the bar with my cigarette. I hear a low laugh and straighten up, already feeling the heat of shame rising in my cheeks, but in a milder way than usual.