the essence of life is love

Naamloos deel 1

"No! No, and again no. Of course, I'm not going to play that." "Calm down, Bo. You finally have the chance to act again. Your last role was almost ten years ago, and it wasn't exactly a success."

"The fact that you, of all people, have to remind me of that. You knew I couldn't handle being on stage. Night after night. And now you want me to do something I don't want to do." "You have to, there's no money left if you don't do something."

"Where on earth did all that money go then? I had millions."

A young man paces through the modernly furnished room. He is slightly smaller than others of his age, his voice seems to belong to someone else, so deep and hoarse that it would be expected from an old, giant man. At the table sits an older woman, her gray hair neatly styled and pinned up, her clothes dark blue with a white, high-necked blouse. Next to her sits a man, about ten years younger. It shows in his face, which has fewer wrinkles, and his hair is certainly as gray as the woman's. He calmly looks from one to the other during the conversation. The young man, Bo, walks restlessly back and forth. His T-shirt, once white, now has faint stains of food. It hangs like an oversized rag on his slender body. The baggy sweatpants are constantly pulled up, otherwise, Bo walks barefoot.

"Why now? What am I supposed to do? I don't even know if I can still do it. Last time, I forgot my lines after half an hour. And what if it happens again, what then?"

"Son, sit down for a moment. Take a deep breath, and I'll show you the papers."

"Calm down? I can't, you're getting on my nerves. Does it have to be this way?"

"Yes, there's no other choice. Unless you want to come back home."

Now Bo looks shocked at his mother.

"No, Mom, I can't. I won't do that, I'll never do that."

"Do you not want to live with Esmee? She is your daughter." "Don't do that. That's mean. You know as well as I do that I would like to be with her, but I can't, not yet. I don't want her to see me like that. I can handle those few days, but I can't do it all the time. You know that too."

His hollow eyes look scared at her. They seem even paler than usual due to the dark circles around them. He had a bad night, it was too warm in his bedroom. He regrets that his window can't open more than a crack. Everything is sealed here.

"This is the best if you want to continue living on your own." "On my own? Don't make me laugh. This? Is this living on my own? With two guards around me. It's like I'm crazy."

"It's not, it's for your safety. You know that. You arranged this yourself. It's all on your request."

"Yes, yes, I know that. You always manage to pressure me with everything. Mom, you can't always take care of me. I've been without alcohol for so long, I can handle it."

"That's exactly what worries me. I don't think you're ready to live without supervision yet."

It's the first time the man joins the conversation. His face looks serious, almost worried.

"It's really not the time, you still have a long way to go." "Damn!"

"What makes it so difficult? Are they not nice, or is there something else?"

"No, not that. Of course not. They're great. I just want to do more. That's it. I want to be able to go outside. Maybe take a walk in the park."

"You can do that."

"But not alone, Mom. I'm always with someone, I'm never alone. I seem like a little child."

"I'm not saying that. You sometimes behave like one, but I can forgive you for that. I'll talk to them. Do you want to do something together?"

"Wait, I wouldn't want to arrange something like that now. I'll talk to them. Start thinking about what you would like."

The man stands up and leaves the room while still talking. At the door, he turns around.

"Also, start thinking about that soap. I think it's something for you."

With a wink to Bo, the man leaves the room, and it becomes silent. Bo's mother looks at him, not with pity, but rather businesslike, at most concerned. Bo knows well that he can't handle everything on his own yet, especially taking care of his daughter.

"Maybe it's best to take that job. Do you have information?" "Should I leave it here? Then you can read it calmly."

"Does it really have to be that role? Isn't there anything else?" "No. They have expressed that they have you specifically in mind for this role. It's a good role. It suits you. It's also a fighter. And, just like you, a bit stubborn in character." "Stubborn, I didn't get that from a stranger. I'm your son."

It's the first time that afternoon that the woman shows a slight smile.

"Yes, you're clearly my son. Despite having certain traits only from your father."

Without saying it, Bo knows it's about his drinking. His father drank himself to death years ago. With his drunken head, he took the car and, not far from their house, drove at full speed off a viaduct, straight into the water. As a child, he struggled with it a lot, but now he's used to it. Still, it wasn't pleasant to constantly read in the tabloids that he was following in his father's footsteps. Instead of helping him stay away from alcohol, it worked as a stimulus. It was the only escape route he knew, the first thing available in his environment. Bottles of hard liquor were everywhere, in hotel rooms, in stores, on the street, and during movie shoots. It was easier to grab than drugs.