The End

Chapter 31: Fictional Reality

New York was the last place in the world where Jillian would still take a taxi. There was something nostalgic about taking a taxi in NYC. Maybe they were so closely tied that it was a trend that could never be replaced.

Regardless, Jillian placed her cell phone against her ear and waited for her husband to pick up. He would soon be on his lunch break. His voicemail answered , "Hi, just landed in New York. Headed to grab a coffee and then to the hotel. Call me back when you can."

She took the short walk from the taxi to Bluestone Lane, a little coffee shop near Central Park. Summer was nearly in full swing here. The weather quickly approaching mid 70's and the sun high in the morning sky.

The cafe was busier than what she liked but she managed to grab a table just inside the front door.  Surprisingly she didn't have to wait long. She grabbed her coffee and a copy of the New York Times.

Jillian was soaking in the sounds of Summer in the city and  flipping through the New York Times when Patrick returned her call. She spoke softly, "Hi." 

"Make it to New York okay?" He asked.

"Having coffee near Central Park now," she answered with a smile.

"Sounds nice," he said sincerely.

"It is," she was slightly distracted by the paper in front of her, "how's your day going."

"Long," was all he could manage. "I had an early call time."

"Sorry," she replied, "how many more days in the shoot?"

"Pft," he sighed, "too many. How are the kids?"

"Great," Jill answered with a laugh, "happy to have me gone I'm sure. Their break started Friday." She paused, "I ran into Ellen in the airport." Her voice nonchalant.  The breeze ruffled the paper in front of her. She steadied it with her coffee cup.

"You did?" his tone was far too concerned. He tried to recover with a cool, "where was she headed."

"Sounded like she was headed back from a hiatus trip." Jillian paused again, this time making Patrick sweat. But to his surprise she was just lost in the New York Times, "Did you know Arthur Goldwyn died?"

"No," he said with nervousness lingering on his tongue

"You saw him after the show," Jillian's voice interested.

"Yeah," Patrick answered easily, "he was a shark."

"Says his son is taking over the family business."

"His daughter, you mean..." Patrick corrected her.

"It says his son," Jillian shrugged.

"Must be a misprint." Patrick concluded and then moved on. "I probably should get back to set. Be safe. Send the kids my love."

"Ok," she answered, "talk soon."  

Jillian was somehow still consumed by the obituary in front of her, "Arthur was ruthless, brilliant, and untouchable," said Marla Klein, an entertainment attorney. "He didn't just protect people. He rewrote reality. The stories you read were never the real ones — those stayed with him." 

The words seemed to jump off the page at her. For the first time she wondered why Patrick had paid this man so much money, only to have their affair, his secrets in every news paper in town. Patrick had lost his job, they'd nearly been divorced, his reputation had been saved only by the resurrection of their marriage. Arthur Goldwyn hadn't helped him with anything. For a man being celebrated as Hollywood's most vital fixer, he certainly hadn't protected them.

The stories you read were never the real ones.

"Max," the voice of the woman at the table next to her put her on high alert, "It was nothing." The woman's tone and the words seemed to paralyze Jill. 

Jillian's stomach twisted uncomfortably. She'd always known that this sort of ending was possible. It felt as though they'd spent a decade on the brink of it. In the last years they had grown so distant. Their relationship filled with so much resentment.  It was far from a surprise to her that she stood here in the trailer of  what felt like the only person that would tell her the truth on this set. "Oh, Jill,"  she watched Ellen crumble in front of her.  "It was nothing and then it was something..."

"Oh God," Jill steadied herself against the railing of the trailer. "This is real. This is happening..." she was surprisingly calm with Ellen, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Tears welled up in Ellen's eyes, "I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this." Ellen's voice quivered. "If I could..." she started to speak but knew she couldn't truthfully finish the sentence. She wouldn't go back and make a different decision if she could. She would make the same decision, over and over again. "I'm so sorry..."

The memory sat heavy in Jillian's stomach. Words, seemed to swirl and Ellen's tone seemed to magnify as if someone had just turned up the volume. She vividly remembered the look in her eyes. Her voice so apologetic as if she... Jill froze mid thought. An old fear resurfaced with a roar.

Jillian quickly collected her things. A feeling of exposure pinking her cheeks as she walked back to her hotel room. There were a lot of questions swirling in her chest, but the biggest was Did Ellen confess to sleeping with her husband that day? It was the kind of gut punch that her relationship would never recover from.