Page 89 of The Actor: Harrison

I can’t tell if they like it or not, and when I catch Harrison’s questioning eyes, I shrug. Apparently neither of us knows what’s going on in their heads.

When the final credits scroll to an end and the lights turn on, I grab Harrison’s hand and squeeze. I’m not a super expert of Hollywood premieres, but I know when the movie ends, you get some sort of reaction. A cold one, maybe some booing, but complete silence? What does that mean?

I turn to Harrison and we both turn around. Fear is gripping my stomach.

The first clap comes from the back of the theater, followed by some others a few rows down. In a matter of a few seconds, the entire theater is standing up, clapping like maniacs, cheering and whistling their approval.

A standing ovation.

We are getting a freaking standing ovation and I can’t even stand up myself. Harrison wraps his arms around me and I bury my head in the crook of his neck.

“You did it!” he whispers in my ear.

I did it.Wedid it.

The world is spinning so fast I don’t know how to stand, but Harrison’s firm grip grounds me.

Now I know for sure, deep in my heart, that we are the perfect team, and nobody will stop us. This is just the beginning.

Now is our time to shine.

Three years later

I watch Harrison sipping his iced tea, lounging on the deck chair with his computer on his lap. He’s been there since this morning when he woke up at six to write his new masterpiece. Fortunately, I moved into his house a couple of years ago and he has enough rooms to work anywhere. He doesn’t keep me up late when he’s in his “writer mood.”

He’s wearing his glasses that make him look oh-so sexy. I take my time enjoying the view of his perfect abs and those little two wrinkles forming between his eyebrows when he focuses on his computer.

I’ve come to love those two wrinkles because it means he’s doing exactly what he loves most: writing.

It turned out, his first screenplay wasn’t just a fluke. After he won the Oscar for best actor for his performance in our first movie together, where I won as best director and the movie as best picture, he didn’t end his winning strike.

His first screenplay got a “Palme d’Or” at Cannes and a “Leone d’Oro” at the Venice film festival. He also got nominated for best original screenplay at the Oscars. He mostly stars in his own movies, but he’s not so interested in acting anymore. It will always be his first love, but he won’t grow old with it.

I walk down the paved path and he raises his eyes to mine when he hears me coming. His smile is so warm and genuine I want to melt here on the pool patio. I will never get used to how much love he puts in those glances that melt my heart.

“Here are my two favorite girls,” he says, grabbing my hand and dragging me next to his deck chair. He kisses my seven-months pregnant belly then scoots over to make room for me to sit. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses my temple.

“Your favorite girl here almost destroyed my ribcage this morning, kicking like she wants to come out right now,” I complain.

Sometimes this pregnancy is easy because I have Harrison by my side helping me out, sometimes it’s hard because, apparently, I’m carrying Satan’s spawn and I don’t have a second of rest.

“Clara says lunch is ready.” I peck him on the lips.

“I’m coming. Almost finished with this scene.”

“How’s it coming?”

“It sucks, as usual, but you’ll make a great movie no matter what I give you.” He grins and I push his leg out of the chair.

“You always say it sucks and then the Oscars put down the red carpet just for your movies.” And I’m not kidding.

His writing style is so clever and tasteful he’s becoming one of the best screenwriters I know. He’s making a name for himself as a screenwriter and people are taking him seriously.

I fell once for his brain and his skills and I’m falling every day for the great man he is.

“Aaron asked if you want to slow down a bit, you know, considering you’re almost at the end of the pregnancy.” He glances at me, trying to figure out if I’m going to freak out about it or not.

“I’m pregnant, not sick. I’m one of the lucky women that doesn’t have a complicated pregnancy. I’m not even particularly tired. I’m enjoying what I’m doing and I promise that at the first sign of discomfort, I will stop. Okay?”

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