Page 1 of Lost Love Found

did i really just write that down?

elaina

The upside of living in LA is that it’s 70 degrees on December 23rd. The downside of living in LA is that it’s 70 fucking degrees on December 23rd! I feel the sweat collecting under my boobs as I pack up my shit. I curse myself for choosing a blouse that feels as though it’s made of velvet and wide-legged pants I keep nearly tripping over.

This almost makes me miss Massachusetts and New York winters. Almost.

It’s my last day at the studio and we’ve just wrapped shooting on a movie I’m super stinking proud of, despite the fact that it was supposed to wrap four weeks ago. I was so looking forward to seeing Mom and Owen, but the shooting delays have forced me to cancel my plans. While I'm relieved to be staying put, a deep pang of guilt lingers within me for how I must have disappointed them.

Owen, my older brother by four years, has been living in Marblehead for eighteen months after retiring from the Marines and has yet to come and see me. We’d been close as kids, but since Dad passed away, Owen and I haven’t talked.

I know Ma has been stressing about it too, and I feel such guilt about that. I haven't been able to bring myself to make the trip back to Marblehead. It was hard enough after Andy and impossible after Dad. But I know I need to go back. I know I won’t heal until I go back to the place that hurt me the most.

The thought causes my stomach to roll and I’m thankful for the breeze sweeping through the air as I walk to my car. When I reach the trunk, dropping my bags in, I realize I didn’t say bye to Manny, my favorite security guard at this studio. It’s become such a part of my routine to stop and chat with him before going home, and I’ve been meaning to ask how his wife is doing. Poor Jen was so sick a few days ago, so I sent over some chicken noodle soup and muffins. Is cooking and baking for people a love language? If so, that’s how I choose to show my love for people. Forever and ever.

I sit in the driver’s seat and turn my car on, but I don’t drive away just yet. I’m too busy basking in the icky feelings building up inside me. This year has been so… much. My normally optimistic and glass-half-full personality has been seriously slacking off lately. I don’t know what to do to change it, but I know I need a plan.

Make Ma’s Moussaka recipe and take Frankie for a long walk at Runyon Canyon? Or maybe go to the wrap party? Neither. Pick up ice cream and wine, put on comfies and have a solo dance party in the kitchen. YES!

The almost smile on my face turns into a full-blown grin when I see my BFF’s name pop up on my phone screen.

MAEVEY

Bonnie! Are you going to the wrap party?

I hope you are. You need some fun to get out of this funk!

More than a best friend and much like a sister (though she already has a twin of her own), Maeve can always put a smile on my face. Ever the Brit, she’s called me Bonnie, meaning beautiful, since the day we met and she proclaimed my emerald green eyes, plump ass and perky tits should be illegal all on one person. Her words, not mine. I’m about to respond when I see the three little dots flashing.

MAEVEY

And if you don’t go tonight and decide to go home and dance around the kitchen, I’m coming and we’re having ice cream for dinner. No need for fancy meals since we have that all covered between Christmas and NYE! EEK!

I purposely ignore her mention of the New Year’s Eve party she’s throwing. I’m having eye surgery on the 31st and I hope, against all odds, that I can still somewhat enjoy the night. I need to end this year on a higher note than how it started, which was with removing all proof of my last relationship from my life.

It’s really eerie how well you know me, you know that? Come over. Lizzo surely has something we can shake our asses to and I’m picking up enough Ben & Jerry’s to feed a small village of hormonal PMS-ing women.

You goddess. See you in an hour. I have wine.

An hour later Bruno Mars’ “That’s What I Like” is coming through the kitchen speakers. I hear the door shut and Maeve’s “yoohoo” as she’s making her way down the hall. She is a natural-born star. You know when you see someone, and you can tell they’re meant to be Hollywood famous? That’s Maeve Howard.

When she speaks, everyone in the room hangs on her every word. She enthralls us all with her radiant smile and contagious laughter. Her vivacious energy and enthusiasm fill the air, and no matter the company, she is the life of the party. Her straight blonde hair always seems to fall perfectly around her shoulders, and she’s got a charming smattering of freckles on her button nose. If she was a season, she would be summer: bright, warm, eternally sunny. She’s singing along to the lyrics and casually grinding into my ass before I can even turn around to greet her. Man, I love this girl.

Over my shoulders, I see her aggressively biting her bottom lip, a bottle of wine in each hand, eyes closed tight. I can tell she’s holding back a big smile, trying to be serious as she pushes her crotch into my hip.

“Baaaaaabe! You did it! Our first movie together with you as production designer extraordinaire and you killed it! I’m so proud! Let’s celebrate the shit out of how awesome you are!” She drops the wine on the countertop and hugs me, jumping up and down. I take in the scent of her lavender shampoo and yes, I really do feel better now.

I swear this girl saved my life on more than one occasion. When I moved away from home after Andy died. When my dad got so sick, I didn’t even have time to go see him before he died. When that douche canoe Ben ended up cheating on me repeatedly during our three-year relationship. Maeve was there for all of it. She’s a constant in my life and I know how lucky I am that I found my soulmate in this woman.

The kiss she leaves on my cheek is loud and proud, but when I take in her face, I can see she likely feels as tired as I do. Her eyes look more like a stormy sea than their usual sky blue. She’s been working hard, too. She was the lead actress in the movie we just wrapped today. Yep, it was kind of a dream come true to have my best friend on the same set as me for four entire months.

“Why aren’t you going to the wrap party? You should celebrate!” I say this to her as I pour us each a generous glass of wine. Wine first, then ice cream.

“I’d much rather spend time with my brilliant BFF. We haven’t been able to see one another much outside of the set and I’ve been looking forward to just being with you.” She brings her glass of wine to her lips, swaying her hips. Even tired, Maeve exudes energy.

I smile softly at her. “I’ve missed you too, Maevey. And you were right earlier. You know how much I hate being in a bad mood. I don’t know what it is.” I take a sip of wine and she looks at me intently, taking in every word. “Ugh. Is it because I’m not going to see Mamá for the holidays?” I pause, looking out over the backyard where my dog Frankie (a.k.a. Frank Lloyd Wright) is miserably failing at chasing a bird who is taunting my little labradoodle.

I look back at Maeve. She’s waiting for me to process everything out loud, as I always do. “Do I even have any right to be in a funk? My life is kind of great, isn’t it? I bought this house. I’ve worked on some amazing movies. My career completely took off. What the fuck do I have to be in a damn funk about?” As I say this, I point to the massive kitchen and look out the window again.

---