On Bended Knee

Chapter 14

Lucy moved through the next day on autopilot. She dressed, worked and came home, and could hardly remember a thing about her day except for the hollow, gnawing darkness that filled her.

The following day, she took her darkness to the movie set and tendered her resignation. She handed in her uniform, radio and identification at the little office. Her resignation was accepted without a fuss. Since filming was nearly finished, some actors had already left and one medic was sufficient. Her task completed, she hurried away as soon as she could without speaking to anyone else.

When she got home on the second day, a neatly taped box sat outside her door. Lucy knew immediately what it was: a breakup box. She brought it inside and set it on her table.

When she pulled the box open, she was hit square in the face with a blast of Frederick. She filled her lungs with his rich, complicated smell of bergamot and men's grooming products. Lucy peeked at the contents of the box: some clothes, a few personal care products, two books. Nothing she couldn't live without for a while longer, though she was briefly tempted by her favorite lavender shirt, the one she had worn running on their first date-that-wasn't-a-date. Instead, Lucy closed the flaps of the box and pressed the edges of the tape together. She wasn't ready to part with this last bit of intimacy she had with Frederick. Not yet.

* * * * *

"I'm still not feeling it, Frederick. Run it again," called the director.

Frederick wanted badly to kick something. Instead, he held his limbs rigidly and blew out his breath in a rush of frustration. Three takes and the director still wasn't happy with this scene. Frederick marched back to his first mark.

"Do you need an espresso, Frederick? You look exhausted," said Neva, waving air at her face with the wooden folding fan that was part of her costume.

"No, thank you, Neva. I'm fine. Everyone has off days from time to time."

Except Frederick. This was his first. No, second. Yesterday was rubbish as well. The day before that had gone well.

Right up until he walked into Lucy's apartment.

He had been certain that he could talk her round to his side again, absolutely positive that if was patient with her and stayed steady, they could get through this crisis like they had gotten through so much in their short time together.

When she said she wanted to end things, he was certain he'd misheard. But when he saw her face, he knew that she had decided she wasn't coming back.

Frederick had plenty of experience with rejection. In his early years, he knew that if he got ten rejections for every one call-back, he was doing well. Every single rejection had hurt, but if he collected them all up together, they wouldn't fill the shoe of the rejection he'd faced two nights ago. He had been happy with Lucy. More than happy. He felt like he'd found someone who understood him, someone who fired him up and made him want to be his best. He craved Lucy in a way he'd never craved any woman before. Losing his job would be easier. Or even a limb.

That civilized, calm breakup—if you didn't count a bit of crying, and he certainly didn't—was one of the worst things he'd ever had to endure in his life.

He saw more and more now, though, that no matter how good they were together, chances of them having a future together were slim. She kept her life orderly, quiet, and predictable because that was where she thrived. If she joined him, she might put on a brave face for him for a while, but in the end, his chaotic lifestyle would crush her spirit.

"I'll go get my makeup freshened up a little. Buy you a few minutes," said Neva with an oleaginous smile.

Frederick had never counted Neva as a personal friend, but he had always been able to work with her. Now, however, he was plagued with fantasies about Neva falling off her horse and breaking something painful, Neva having an allergic reaction and her entire face breaking out in blisters, Neva getting into a fight with the director and being booted from the set forever. That last one was his favorite.