TO HAVE & HAVE NOT

28

Johnny

Day after day, whether I was lost in thought about seeing Olivia or wholly immersed in her vibrant presence, a peculiar kind of magic enveloped the mundane familiarity of my routine. An undeniable connection sparked to life in that dressing room, igniting something deep within me that I struggled to define. In those moments, surrounded by the fabric and glitter of costumes, her contagious excitement about life radiated with such intensity that I couldn't help but feel invigorated.

Our conversations flowed effortlessly, diving into a shared passion for film that transcended the generational gap; I marveled at how we could lose ourselves in discussions about classic cinematic masterpieces as if they were a lifeline connecting our souls. Olivia's recommendations for newer movies and musicians were like unexpected gifts, each opening my eyes to a world I had overlooked, and every laugh shared felt like an intimate secret binding us closer together.

The playful banter we indulged in became a cherished ritual that I craved to elongate and stretch out into eternity. Yet, those fleeting moments of physical contact—her hand brushing against mine or a playful nudge—sent my heart racing and left me tossing and turning in bed at night, replaying those innocent interactions like scenes from a movie.

At 41 years old, I grappled with emotions that felt achingly adolescent, filled with the heady thrill of a schoolboy's infatuation, inexplicably reminiscent of a time when everything was new and brimming with possibility. This was not how I was supposed to feel at my age. Yet, Olivia had a way of shattering those long-held expectations, awakening a passion and desire that flickered within me, compelling my heart to dance nervously on the edges of hope and yearning.

"Knock knock," Olivia called out, her voice light and teasing as she tapped rhythmically at the door of my dressing room. "Are you decent in here?" The sound of her knuckles on the wood echoed softly, a reminder that the world outside was bustling while I was still inside, lost in my pre-show preparations.

I chuckled, my voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Fully clothed," I called back, adjusting the collar of my shirt in front of the mirror, momentarily distracted by my reflection.

With a gentle push, Olivia opened the door and walked in, her presence brightening the small space. She was already dressed in her character's outfit, a stunning ensemble that hugged her figure perfectly and showcased her charm. "Okay, beauty queen. Are we ready yet? Our call time was like ten minutes ago," she said, an exaggerated frown settling on her features.

"Almost," I replied with a smile, trying to hide the last traces of my frantic energy. I was nearly there, just a few finishing touches needed before I could step out and embrace the spotlight.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, her playful banter flowing effortlessly. "How does your hair and makeup take longer than mine?" she retorted, crossing her arms in mock judgment.

I feigned shock, placing a hand over my heart as if I had just received an insult of the utmost importance. "I think I'm going to have to take offense to that," I teased back, a grin dancing on my lips.

As Olivia leaned against the door frame, I noticed the spark of excitement in her eyes, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of energy myself. Soon, we would be out there, two performers ready to light up the stage, and I secretly cherished these fleeting moments of pre-show banter amidst the chaos. Together, we made a great team, and I wouldn't trade this experience for anything.

After a long day of lounging around, I sat on the couch, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. The afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting warm stripes across the room, but my body felt heavy with inertia, my mind clouded by a dull haze of boredom.

In an impulsive moment that caught me off guard, I pulled out my phone and began to text Olivia. It was the first time I'd ventured into this territory, this strange realm of vulnerability that we'd tiptoed around since we met. "Hey, Olivia. It's Johnny. Would you like to meet up? I am home alone and could use your comical help to lighten my mood. No pressure if you're busy. But if you're free, let me know."

As soon as I pressed send, a chill of self-doubt washed over me; I groaned at how ridiculous and desperate I sounded, like a character straight out of a rom-com who overly romanticizes an ordinary day.

The seconds dragged like hours as I anxiously awaited a reply, already regretting my choice of words. Just as I was about to bury my face in the pages of the book I had pretended to read, Hilda came around the corner. "Mr. Depp," she announced, "Olivia Moore is here to see you."

My heart raced, and before I could fully process her words, I had sprung up from the couch as if an electric current had passed through me. I dashed to the mirror, smoothing down my hair and straightening my shirt, desperately trying to project an aura of nonchalance.

As I approached the door, each step felt heavier, filled with both excitement and anxiety. There she stood—Olivia, with her unabashedly radiant smile and casual demeanor that always brightened up the dullest days. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and conjure up my best "cool" expression, but inside, I was a flurry of emotions.

As I stood there, still grappling with the surreal nature of the moment, the familiar warmth of Olivia enveloped me as she hugged me tightly, the scent of her shampoo a nostalgic reminder of countless afternoons spent together. "Olivia?" I questioned if this was even real, still slightly disoriented by her sudden appearance.

"Johnny!" she replied, her voice brimming with cheerfulness as she released me from her embrace, her eyes sparkling excitedly.

"Darling, what are you doing here?" I asked, genuinely surprised at her unexpected visit.

Olivia frowned slightly at my question, her brow furrowing in that adorable way that always made my heart skip a beat. "You said you were home alone," she remarked as if it were the most obvious reason in the world for her to come over. "So I thought I'd swing by and convince you to leave the house and do something fun."

Intrigued, I leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What did you have in mind?" I queried, eager to learn about her plan.

"It's Saturday night, the fab five's dinner party. Don't worry, I'll explain on the way," she chimed, her hand finding mine and intertwining our fingers effortlessly.

I glanced down, a soft smile creeping onto my face at the sight of our hands together; her small, delicate hand fitting perfectly within my larger one was a feeling I cherished. "Is this attire okay?" I asked, gesturing to my casual outfit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. "You look great. Let's go! We're not on Johnny time - we're on real-time!"

With that, she tugged at my hand, laughter bubbling between us, and I couldn't help but follow her lead, my heart racing with excitement for the night ahead—dinner with friends, lively conversations, and the anticipation that came only with moments like these, where every second felt vibrant and brimming with potential.

As we settled into the warmth of her car, curiosity bubbled within me, and I couldn't help but ask, "What is the Fab Five dinner party?"

"Okay," she began, her tone turning animated, "it's a little dinner party that my best friend and I created years ago to hold ourselves accountable to see each other at least once a week."

Eager to learn more, I asked, "Who does the Fab Five consist of?"

Her response was quick and filled with affection: "Me, Tommy, Sam, Selena, and Fin." Each name rolled off her tongue with a sense of belonging, reflecting their deep ties.

I felt a twinge of hesitation as I considered intruding on their established tradition. "I don't want to intrude. Are you sure this is okay?" I voiced my concerns and the vulnerability in my tone was evident.

But her response was immediate and reassuring as her hand reached over to grip my arm resting on the console between us. "Of course! We've added others like Sam will surely bring Nate."

Her smile was warm and inviting, and I couldn't help but return it, glancing down at her hand on my arm. It was a gesture that made me feel welcome like I was already a part of something special, woven into the fabric of their friendships.