Page 63 of The Actor: Harrison

“I fucked up,” I blurt out as soon as Harrison opens the front door.

After he dropped me off yesterday evening after our fight, he told me he needed to cool down a bit. I haven’t heard from him since, but I can’t wait anymore to tell him how sorry I am.

I also realized how much I care about him. I knew I was liking him more and more, but it turned out I’m actually scared to lose him. This is not just some random hookup that I want to give up at the first sign of trouble. I don’t want to give up on him.

“I know you told me you need to cool down, and I’m going away as soon as I tell you that I’m sorry. I really am. It wasn’t my intention to tell you to sell our story. I was frustrated because someone is actually selling it and profiting from it. I find that difficult to get over. I always thought that the problem was the violation of someone’s privacy, but it turned out I’m even more pissed about them making money from it.” I take a deep breath and look at him in the eye.

It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t seem angry like last night, but he is silent. He needs time, as he asked me, and this is my clue to turn around and leave.

“Sienna, wait,” he calls out after a few steps.

I turn and look at him. His hands are deep in the front pocket of his sweatpants and he looks at me with a mixture of longing and sadness in his eyes. I really did a number on him yesterday. I touched the only subject that would put a stain on the integrity of his career. He struggled hard to become what he is and I suggested taking a shortcut to reach my goal.

I walk back to him and he steps aside to let me in. We settle at the kitchen counter and he offers me a cup of coffee.

“Are you going to say something?” I finally ask.

I don’t know what he wants me to say, at this point. I don’t even know how to rephrase my apologies, what to add if what I said wasn’t enough for him to forgive me. I’m not so good at groveling.

“I don’t know what to say, honestly. I know you were serious when you suggested those things, but still, sometimes I don’t know what to do with you,” he candidly confesses.

I take a deep breath and try to figure out how to say what I’m about to say without sounding like a fool.

“I don’t know if you know who my ex is, but let’s just say he’s big in Hollywood right now. He was nobody like me when we met. He was sweet, he used the right words, he convinced me that we were the perfect team and that everybody would recognize my talent even when he was the one putting his name on my projects, because, you know, Hollywood likes powerful career-driven men. They sell more, he said.”

It hurts to think back to those days, but Harrison stays silent, giving me time to regroup before continuing with my story.

“It turns out that men actually sell more than women in Hollywood, and when he got his big breakthrough, he dumped me like the old worn-out couch in his parent’s basement. He didn’t give a shit about me, he just wanted my projects, my creativity, my art to get where he wanted to be. That day I promised myself I wouldn’t accept any more help, partnership or anything from anyone. I promised myself that I would do everything on my own to avoid someone stealing what’s mine.”

I look at him and he lower his gaze, nodding.

“I suspected something like that happened to you. When you refused to take my money, I looked you up and found your relationship with him…odd. I figured something happened. I didn’t know those were your projects,” he confesses and I’m not surprised. Harrison is smart, I knew he figured something out but waited for me to elaborate.

“Yeah, those were my movies.” It comes out like a whisper. I’m tired reliving those years.

“Did you direct them?” he asks.

“I found them, directed them, and did the editing for most of them, especially in the beginning. He just put his name on it. I was young, inexperienced, and in love. It was easy to fool me.” I still feel the humiliation burning my chest and cheeks.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” He frowns.

“Would they believe me or the new Hollywood genius?” I raise an eyebrow, challenging him to contradict me.

He opens his mouth once, twice, and then shakes his head. “You’re right,” he murmurs.

I shrug.

“It’s fine. I got over it. Mostly.” I try not to sound too bitter.

I really got over it. I was angry for a long time, now I’m not. I accepted my mistakes and learned from them. It helped me to become the woman I am today. It wasn’t only bad things that came from that experience.

“You know I would never do something like that to you, right?” he asks after a while, sounding genuinely concerned that I would think something like that about him. If I’ve learned anything about Harrison these last few months, it’s his honesty. He has too good of a heart to be a Hollywood star.

“I know.” I smile at him.

“I want to use my money to give you something that you really want and deserve. You deserve to be on the top of those fucking hills. You should be celebrated like the fantastic director you are. That’s what I want to do with my money, nothing else,” he explains, and I believe him.

“I know. And that’s why I can’t accept. I would feel like I did it because of a man. Not because I did something great. Pulling off a good movie is easy if you have the right screenplay, but the journey that leads you to direct that movie is what counts. Being good is not enough. Working for it and achieving that result is what it makes you great,” I explain and I see in his eyes that something clicks in his brain.

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