Veiled Affection

Chapter Thirty six

I woke up that morning not by the sound of my alarm, or by a knock on my door. I opened my eyes naturally, having had enough sleep, in an otherwise silent room.

There was a flickering moment in which I assessed where I was, what time it was, who I was - for that matter - and what today held in store (as one always does first thing in the morning). Three out of the four questions I was able to answer in an instant: a hotelroom in Venice; writer, lover, mortal - June; the premier of the movie. And then it struck me.

''Now all of you,'' One of the film's producer said, that previous evening during dinner. ''Make sure tomorrow you are up and ready at 8 a.m. sharp. We have a long day ahead of us. The final flourish, if you will. Our film will go in premier at last!''

When everyone cheered and showed delight, I kept repeating in my head: ''8 a.m.. Make sure you are ready at 8 a.m.''

Now I have already written down what had happened when we returned back to the hotel. And I suppose that incident had been the reason why I was so careless by not setting an alarm. After all the tears, I had simply forgotten.

One might have already guessed it... When I rolled over and grabbed my phone to check the time, heaven forbid, it was far beyond the agreed time. 11:57 a.m., it read. And when I was on the verge of jolting out of bed, I saw, underneath the digital numbers, a text message. It was from Cate.

We didn't wake you. I am sorry, but please, take some rest.

The moment came that, after everything described above, last night was brought to mind as well. It was then that I also noticed the tense skin around my eyes, having endured much with all the tears shed. I buried my head in my pillow, lamenting all that had been said and done the night before.

Shortly after the questions appeared.

Was she still angry? She must be, not having bothered to wake me. Clearly not wanting me to be there at the premier. And did I want to go at all, after a night like that? Who was wrong and who was right? - the latter question to me seems so obvious now, but that morning after, my afflicted feeling still fresh, it was a puzzlement to me still.

Regardless of the many questions that roamed through my head in those few seconds, I got up and hastily made myself ready. I can't not be there, I thought to myself when I brushed my teeth. There is just no way I am missing this, I told myself when I slipped on my dress. Whether she likes it or not, I mumbled when I closed the door behind me and got going.

The drive on the way over seemed endless. I had managed to secure a cab, and once I got in and told the driver where I needed to be, he managed to struck a nerve.

''Ah, you are going to the premier?'' He said with an Italian-lisp. ''Aren't you a little late?''

''I am,'' I said irritated. ''So just go already.''

Poor man... We didn't speak for the whole drive. And it was the silence that gave me room to think, whether I wanted to or not. I didn't.

I thought about one of the last, confronting things she said to me that night. How she mocked that I was one to talk about sharing truths, not wanting to let our close bond be known to anyone. I was able to come up with a lot of advantaged favoring my preference, opposed to the few disadvantages it would bring. That, in and of itself, meant I still held my ground; when it came down to it, I would still choose secrecy over proclamation. Right?

Sitting in the car, I pondered long and deep on the matter, to the point where I didn't even notice the car arriving at the venue, and the driver had to made clear we had arrived. Thinking had gotten me nowhere that car ride.

Now I had been given strict instructions the day before. I was to arrive (of course with everyone else, but that aside) and was allowed to mingle myself within the crowd of photographers, journalists and what not. I was given permission to stay behind the borders amongst the press and watch all the actors make their way down the carpet from afar - lucky me. All sarcasm aside though, I liked it that way. I chose a pen over a camera for a reason.

So here I was, just having stepped out of the cab, looking at a scene that was in full bloom. The event was fully up and going, with people everywhere dressed in their best attire. I made my way through the crowd - behind the borders, mind you - and found a small clearing in the middle of all the bustle where I went and positioned myself.

I looked around me, saw some familiar faces, some people from the hair and makeup department, others that had to do with the film in one way or another. And then, as my eyes scanned the red carpet, I saw the most familiar face.

Cate wore an emerald green strapless gown. The color of her hair against the dress was striking. When my eyes set on her, for the first time since the night before, I found myself breathless. I had seen pictures of her attending premiers, even though I hadn't the faintest idea of this ''movie-land''. So I had seen before how she looked all dolled-up for events like this one. But no medium could capture what it is to be in someone's presence, certainly not someone like her. There was something stately about her. Something so mature and dignified. She looked like the kind of person who knew exactly who she was.

In that moment I didn't think about the night before, and the reasons why one might think I beheld her with a grudge. Looking at her from afar, how she stood there in the middle of the mass, her body flickering from all the camera flashes, I wasn't jealous or resentful or begrudging or apprehensive. I was in awe. I saw Cate - my Cate - and I was in complete awe.

And then my heart skipped a beat when her eyes found mine through the crowd.

It is also one of the things I thought about during the car ride over: if she were to see me, how would she react? Had my wildest dream come true, she would run to me, free-run her way over the border, and jump into my arms. In my not so wildest dream the run would be replaced for a walk. After that came a simple wave. And somewhere low on the rank would be the thing she actually did. She smiled, subtly, but in that moment it was more than enough. Her eyes were also fast to dart away again after a second or two, and when they did I breathed out relieved. She smiled, and thus I assumed she wasn't cross with me anymore.

She continued to walk down the red carpet, stopping every few steps to pose before the one too many camera's, and I continued to unabashedly gawk at her. She looked absolutely divine. I could say that I felt proud, but that would make it sound as if I stood above her. Not by any means was I superior to her in any way. Matter of fact I often still think it is very much the other way around. Like she is so much more than I ever could be.

I didn't see her again, face-to-face, until after the film had premiered, at the so-called afterparty, and so I would have liked to skip ahead to that part. But something had happened during that afterparty, and it wouldn't sound sensible if I don't describe what happened beforehand. To put it simply, there was the actual premier of the film - the moment everyone had been looking forward to - and it was during the film that I came to a rather transformative altering in my viewpoint.