Cinnamon Twigs (17 page)

             
You really get to know a girl when you move in with her, when you contend with the extra hair in the bathtub and have her sleeping by your side each night. It felt right. Of course there were times when we got on each other’s nerves and needed an hour or so apart, but living together made me realize just how much I cared for her. I spent hours at the flat, doing plumbing and patching up walls. My days consisted of household chores, low-wage jobs and acting roles in theatres across the country. I couldn’t sit back and dream anymore.

             
During the first couple of months of taking acting seriously, I spent a lot of time lying in bed with Lauren, moaning about a role I’d failed to land.

             
‘Come on, Daniel. It was never gonna be easy. You have to get used to rejection,’ she said.

             
The rain maintained a gentle rhythm on our bedroom window, and the soft light emanating from the pink floral lampshade painted vague shadows on the walls.

             
‘I know. I’m just wondering if I’ve made the right decision. I could be living at home now with a Law degree or something.’

             
‘Well, you’re here with me instead.’

             
‘Oh, I’m not moaning about that part!’ I laughed.

             
‘You’ve always wanted to be an actor, and now you have to work for it. You’re gonna get rejected. It’s how you react to that rejection that counts. It’s called
acting
for a reason.’

             
‘But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m wasting my life, Lauren? What if I’m deluded, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life going from one small acting role to another, without landing any big parts? What if I’m just meant to work in restaurant kitchens?’

             
‘Is that what your heart says?’ Lauren placed her hand on my chest.

             
‘No. But I hate borrowing money from your dad. I don’t care how much cash he has to spare. I feel like a sponger.’

             
‘Look, it makes him happy to help us out. Your heart is telling you that your uncertainties are wrong.’ She raised a finger to her lips and told me to hush. ‘Sometimes you worry too much. You’ll get your big break as long as you concentrate on what you want, and believe in yourself, babe.’

             
‘I once thought you’d never be mine. I’d look at you, sitting on the grass, and I worried that I might never get the chance to know you. I became angry with myself because I was too nervous to speak to you.’

             
‘And now you’re with me. You spoke to me, and here we are. What does that tell you?’

             
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I wish I could speed up time and see if I’ll be successful. But I also want to slow time down, to stay young.’ The words clanged as I spoke them.

             
‘You’re so naïve.’ She giggled. ‘Embrace it. You know nothing. You can’t predict the future, so there’s no point in worrying about time’s boundaries. But if you don’t stick to what you want to do, then you’ll always look back with regret.’

             
‘I don’t know where I’d be without you,’ I said.

             
‘Probably at home with your mother, wishing you had a Law degree.’

             
I chuckled. Lauren made me feel warm inside. She guided me when I was lost, and she would always be able to make me laugh.

             
‘It will come.’ She held me close as the spirit of sleep engulfed me.

             
In that moment of nothingness, of quietude without dreams, I forgot about it all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Elliott

He’d written a good novel. Bloody entertaining stuff. The lyrical prose was beautiful
.
Streets
concerned childhood relationships, revived in adulthood.

             
I hadn’t had a novel published. Unlike my childhood friend, Elliott. Frankly, I never thought he had any imagination. His ghost stories had bored me shitless; they rarely concerned ghosts. But Elliott had become a very fine writer indeed. Perhaps his education at Oxford University had helped him to nurture his talent.

             
Elliott had realized that anything was possible. His novel, much to my chagrin, had become a bestseller. I wondered if I’d been foolish in turning my back on English Literature studies. Elliott, like myself, had been just another kid growing up in Cardiff. And now he was practically famous. Well, if he could do it then I sure as hell could.

             
I stumbled across his book while looking around in the library. A part of me felt jealous, even resentful, because I hadn’t yet reached such heights. But I also felt optimistic: Elliott’s book proved that if I were good enough, I could be successful. I had to hand it to the guy. We had once been very close friends and it was a shame we’d drifted apart. Elliott and I had always competed as children. He’d certainly taken the lead this time.

             
I learned that Elliott would be at a book signing in Cardiff. I thought I’d pay him a visit, because I hadn’t seen him for so long. I joined a lengthy queue and let the scents of fresh book pages and ground coffee drift up my nostrils. A constant excited murmur filled the store as people waited to meet the young author. When I got to the front of the queue, with my copy of his book in hand, Elliott’s piercing green eyes grew wide.

             
‘Daniel!
Dydd da
. How’re you doing, mate?’

             
‘I’m good… mate,’ I said mechanically. ‘It’s good to see you.’

             
‘Ah yeah, particularly under these special circumstances.’ He gave me a wide smile. He was a handsome bastard, as fresh faced as he’d been during our childhoods. His neatly combed hair retained its sandy blond color.

             
‘Hmm, it’s certainly a special circumstance for you.’

             
‘What did you think of the book?’ He signed my copy.

             
‘I thought it was very good…’

             
‘You were always a good storyteller, Daniel. Why don’t you try getting a novel published yourself?’ The question was asked amiably, but I could detect an air of condescension about him.

             
‘That’s a good question. Maybe I will someday. I’ve just been concentrating on the acting business lately.’

             
‘Acting?’

             
‘Yeah.’

             
Elliott smiled politely. Again, I was certain he’d spoken in a patronizing tone. I suddenly felt like a child again. I knew Elliott still felt the need to compete with me.

             
‘It’d be good if you became a writer. We could compete, like in the old days.’

             
‘Compete in what way exactly?’

             
‘Well, you know…’

             
‘You mean compete over who has the most success?’ My eyes became momentary slits.

             
‘Well, it’d be fun.’ Elliott grinned again. He might have been my old friend but, at that moment, I really wanted to smack that grin off his fine-looking face.

             
‘I’m sure it would. I get the feeling we’ll never stop competing.’

             
‘We haven’t got anything to compete over these days.’

             
‘What do you mean?’

             
‘You haven’t had a novel published.’ He coughed delicately.

             
‘Give me time,’ I snapped. ‘Like I said, I’ve been concentrating on acting.’

             
‘Very difficult business that.’

             
‘I know. But so is writing. I’ll be patient.’ I felt like a real loser.

             
‘I heard you had a little poetry book published, but that was a few years ago now.’

             
‘Yeah, that’s right.’

             
‘Anyway, it was nice seeing you again. I’ve written my phone number in your copy of the book. I’m living back in Cardiff now. We’ll have to meet up someday.’

             
‘That would be delightful.’ I inwardly scorned myself for sounding so sarcastic.

             
I regretted being so blatantly jealous of him. But I went home and decided I’d write a book and see if I could get it published. If Elliott could do it, then so could I.

             
I fancied writing a children’s novel, based on a recent dream I’d had. In the dream, I was a child bathing in a public swimming pool. I discovered another world at the bottom of the pool, inhabited by anthropomorphic animals. I befriended these animals and tried to defend them against the government’s plans to knock the pool down. Nobody believed me when I told them about my multilingual friends, because I was the only one who could see them.

             
The book was entitled
Dreams of Another World
. I was proud of it and thought it deserved to be read. Various publishers rejected me, but I found the right one eventually. I’d finally become a published novelist. The book wasn’t a bestseller, and I doubt it caused Elliott to so much as raise an inquisitive eyebrow. But I’d made a good start. I now knew I could balance my ambitions of becoming a writer with my progress in the acting industry.

             
I really wanted my mother to know about my success, but we hadn’t spoken for ages. I talked to Lauren about this.

             
‘I think you should speak to her,’ Lauren said, drinking coffee in our claustrophobic kitchen.

             
‘I would, but I can’t stand the way she tries to knock me down all the time.’

             
‘Yeah, but sometimes that’s just what mothers do. And I know she does it for your own good. It hardens you.’

             
‘I’ve been hardened enough,’ I said.

             
‘She really loves you.’

             
‘You don’t know her.’

             
‘Oh, come on, Daniel. You know she loves you!’

             
‘Yeah, I know she loves me. She just has a strange way of showing it, that’s all.’

             
‘Life is far too short to hold grudges, babes.’

             
‘I know.’ I sighed. ‘I really want to tell her I’ve had a book published. But I don’t think she’d really care.’

             
‘You know she’d be proud of you. Even if she didn’t show it.’

             
‘Yes, but I wish she
would
show it!’

              ‘I’m sure she shows you how much she cares sometimes. Like you said before, she just does it in her own way.’

             
‘I’ve had enough of being called deluded,’ I snapped.

             
‘She worries about your future.’ Lauren took a sip of her coffee.

             
‘Oh, she thinks you’re deluded as well.’

             
‘Really?’

             
‘Yeah, didn’t you get that when she said you were screwy for helping me learn the lines of “ridiculous” plays?’

             
‘She said that?’ Lauren looked affronted.

             
‘Surely you remember?’

             
‘Ah, well. She’s a strange woman, your mother. But I don’t think you should take her so seriously.’

             
‘Everything I do is for her. I work so hard just to make her proud.’

             
‘You must miss her. You haven’t spoken in a while.’

             
‘It’s been long enough to bang out a novel and get it published. Of course I miss her.’ I looked at the cloudy mist in my mug of steaming coffee. ‘But she’s probably glad she got rid of me. I think she sees me as an embarrassment. Unless I win an Oscar, she’ll never be impressed.’

             
‘I don’t think that’s true. She doesn’t see you as an embarrassment,’ Lauren said. ‘I bet she really misses you too.’

             
‘She won’t be interested until I’ve become a household name. Having a children’s book published won’t redeem my choice to quit the PhD. She’ll just tell me, “You’re no Roald Dahl”.’ I finished my coffee and kissed Lauren’s cheek. ‘Love your face, princess.’