A 'SUB' REQUEST (Cate Blanchett x OC)

Chapter 26: The first snow

My head almost exploded. "I'm sorry?"

"You'll be interviewing Cate Blanchett in 48 hours, my friend." 

"I can't do it." I blurted out. 

Everybody on the board frowned, and there was an awkward silence. Nobody said anything, but I read everyone's mind so clearly. Everyone else would die for this opportunity. "What do you mean, you can't do it?" 

"I mean, I can, technically...but, I can assure you that she won't be happy to see that I'm the one to, you know, interview her." I was literally panicking, and my knee started twitching from anxiety, "out of a responsibility to the festival, I think you should get someone else to do this -"

The head of the board, a kind 60-year-old gentleman, came over to me and took my hands in his, "I think you're just new to the job and a bit stressed out. She's really down-to-earth and doesn't act like a celebrity at all - I've done interviews with her before on other occasions. Trust me, you'll be fine!"

"No, you don't understand, I - " I pleaded. But before I could get in another word edgewise, they resumed their discussion of logistics. 

"So the screening starts at 5pm, and the panel will start at 7pm. She's arriving at the theater around 3pm to get in the makeup chair, and we want you to run her through the topics of the interview before the screening starts..." 

The assistants started taking notes and sending out calendar invites, and nobody noticed my palpable agitation. 

"Is there anyway to get someone else to do the panel? I'd happily switch with the Serendipity folks..." I asked. 

"Everyone's bandwidth is very thin and we don't have enough time," the head of the board said, "also, I heard from a common friend of ours that Carol is your type of movie?" he said with a small wink. 

My face started burning. I didn't know how to answer that question. But being professionally pigeonholed as a lesbian was the least of my concerns right now. 

He continued, "Her reps told us that she just wrapped production on a queer-themed project in Berlin, so we might get to be the first ones to interview her about it. We think you're the perfect person to do this. Now go think about what questions to ask the best actress of our generation." 

Before everyone rushed out of the room, I managed to get one last question in: "I just have one favor - can you please send her my name in advance?" 

"We already did in the invitation." An assistant said. 

"And?" I felt like all the oxygen in the room was being drained, and I couldn't breathe. 

"She said she was looking forward to it." 

-----

The nervous wreck I was, I also started getting butterflies in my stomach, and all the emotions that I'd worked on suppressing for the past three months erupted within me. The truth was, I had missed Cate so much that physical symptoms flared up whenever I thought about her - a pain in my neck, a funny itch in my stomach. But they were so negligible compared to the overwhelming guilt that shrouded me on a daily basis like a spider's web. 

She was my soulmate. 

The big day rolled around, and I woke up early in the morning and stared at myself in the mirror. I had lost a bit of weight since LA, but my face had lost a bit of its fresh naïveté and taken on a bit of a "late twenties" vibe. My 27th birthday was in two months. I had a special breed of end-of-year anxiety - frustrated that the new year wouldn't arrive quickly enough, that I wouldn't age quickly enough to finally grow into my own. To finally deserve the woman that I loved. 

It started snowing outside. A gentle, wispy, ghost-like snow that never intended to announce its arrival. But by the time I stepped out my apartment building, the streets were covered with a thin layer of almost invisible milky white. I gazed up into the hollow of the crystal blue sky peppered with white specks. I hadn't seen snow for a very, very long time. 

The screening and panel would take place at the Lincoln Center. I was familiar with the area as my alma mater, Juilliard, was right around the corner. I passed by the campus, taking in the buildings from my student days - there were few people here anymore as people were leaving for the holiday. There were only a few scattered bikes, cars, and a black limo parked out front the music school where I used to study. 

As I was about to turn the corner, I was forced to stop in my tracks. In an almost empty plaza, someone was standing there next to the black limo, gazing at the music school. She had her back to me and had on a thick trench coat, but just from her standing posture I could tell who who she was. A good amount of snow had accumulated on her blond locks - she had been standing there for some time. I quickly hid behind a statue, catching my breath. 

"Ms. Blanchett, this is the music school of Juilliard - the film center is actually right down the street." Her driver said. 

"I know," she said, "someone I love used to go here." 

I slowly lowered myself against the statue, covering my mouth with my hands for a long time that they turned red from the biting wind. I had every urge to run towards her and lock my arms around her from behind in broad daylight. To brush her hair from her face and kiss her so deeply that our lips couldn't be prised apart. To press my head against her chest and calm the beats of her wounded heart. To map out her every curve underneath layers of wool with my fingers. To turn back time to the screening where we first met. To learn by memory every piano piece that she would ever fall in love with. To re-watch every film she had made with her and watch her hide behind her hands. To spend every night with her and each new day that was born from those nights. To beg for her forgiveness for all the times that I have and will inadvertently hurt her. To vow to never hurt her ever again. 

But by the time I emerged from behind the statue, she was already gone.