The Interview

Wall

Ellen's POV

After I sent him the message, I couldn't stop checking my mobile as I was expecting his response. Which came sooner than I expected.

Meet me tomorrow at 7 am, our place. Bringing breakfast.

And it was the moment I realised what I'm doing. I was still sitting in my car on the driveway of my house, I put my face into my hands and lay my head down on the steering wheel. 

"Fuck, Ellen, what you're doing... this is insane." I whispered and took another look at the message. I could ignore it...

I looked at my watch. I was sitting in the car for about half an hour. Thinking. Imagining. I thought about all those years we haven't spoken to each other, all the stress from our fans who didn't stop asking why we don't talk to each other, when we will meet again. All the 'dempeo' stuff, all the memories, hurt, pain, anxiety, emptiness, sorrow. I was thinking if it were the time to move on or to look back again. To ignore him or to go to him as I wasn't sure I want to see him again after what had happened between us.

My excitement went away and got replaced by anxiety. I went home and opened a bottle of wine and headed to bathroom to take a long, relaxing bath.

I remembered all the bathtub scenes with Patrick. His hands everywhere on my body. God...

.........................................

I woke up and checked the alarm clock. 4:30...

I got up from my bed and went to bathroom. I felt so incredibly lonely, my children with my soon to be ex-husband, all this big, silent house... I looked at myself in the mirror and thought for a second that I am no longer that beautiful and the little voice in my head told me that Patrick would never want anyone like me. Not anymore...

I still wasn't sure whether or not to go to the meeting. On the other hand, I have nothing to lose. I've lost almost everything by this time.

I did my make-up, curlered my hair, put on my jeans and white t-shirt. I remembered Patrick saying that this is me, simple but gorgeous that I don't have to pretend anything. I smiled to myself and pushed all the bad memories far away in my head.

I wasn't able to eat anything as I was nervous, I just drank fresh juice and went to my car.

I sat down and got nervous again. What if there's nothing we can talk about? What if the conneciton disappeared?

I bit my bottom lip and checked my mobile. I didn't write him a message that I would come. I was secretly hoping he wouldn't come so I calmed myself a little.

As I was driving to our place, I was nervous, pretty much. I couldn't concentrate on driving and I thanked God that there was almost noone in the streets.

I turned left and drove by forest to our place. And from the distance I could see his car. HIS car. Patrick's car. Porsche. Black Porsche. He was there. He was waiting for me. Wait for me... I remembered one of his lines. Fuck.

I wanted to vomit. I felt my stomach getting sick and my hands were sweating and I was so flustered I almost forgot how to park my car.

I stopped and turned off the engine. He was far away at the edge of the cliff and thanks to the waves he couldn't hear me arriving. 

I got out of the car and closed the door. I could feel tears forming in my eyes as I was looking at him. Staring at him. Piercing him with my eyes.

I made the first step towards him and couldn't breathe properly. My every step felt so heavy that I thought I would destroy this cliff and we would fall down deep into the broken pieces. I couldn't believe that I made it. That I came. That he came...

I was sure he could feel my presence because he turned his head to my direction but didn't turn to me his whole body. Isn't he sure? Does he think this is a mistake?

I stopped walking like four metres away from him. Enough to feel his smell, to feel his presence, to feel his body. I wanted to jump to him and hold him tight but at the same time I wanted to punch him in his face with all my strenght I had. I wanted to cry in pain but also to smile from happiness that I see him. I was breathing fast and felt my hands trembling.

He turned around and faced me. He was looking at me. Patrick Dempsey was standing in front of me. Looking at me. Waiting. 

I locked my eyes with his stormy blue eyes and opened my mouth in attempt to say something but I couldn't. I couldn't breathe, let alone find proper words. I scanned his face. He was stunning. His eyes, his lips, his hair. I couldn't get enough of his face.

"I.... Hi... uhm..." He tried to say something but he failed. As I did. I opened my mouth but closed it immediately. I felt the obstacles between us, the wall that was built during the last five almost six years. I could feel the tension between us, the something that's making it hard to talk to him like before. Like we used to. And I knew this was a mistake.