The line goes dead so suddenly that I almost jump. Yeah, Peter wouldn't miss my calls without a good reason. He wouldn't quit the show without a good reason. But I can't help but think that I gave him a pretty damn good reason. I would walk away too if someone I thought had forgiven me accused me of something like that.
I have to do this work, but my nerves are still frayed. So I pour myself a shot. Just one, and knock it back with a grimace. Just enough to take the edge off of everything that I'm feeling. Like a reflex, I call Peter again, and get his voice mail. Shit. What if something really is wrong? What if I made him so angry that he did something stupid? That he got drunk and got in an accident? What if the reason he's not answering my calls is because he can't?
Stop it, Amber. Stop. That's not right. Because if Peter were hurt or in the hospital, it would have hit the news and I would have gotten a call. The one good thing about being a celebrity is you never have to worry about maintaining any privacy. Though I'm not exactly sure if that's a comforting thought.
I grab Peter's script and sit down at my desk. If I'm going to be thinking about him anyway, I might as well use his script to prep. Placing my phone where I can see it, I try to dive into my work. It doesn't flow the way it normally does, but I get through it little by little. Each little step I accomplish is punctuated by glancing at the phone, waiting for it to light up and tell me that everything's fine. Hoping that Peter will call and say he understands that it was just a misunderstanding and that we can forget about everything that happened.
But of course that doesn't happen, so I work through another page in the script, making notes as I go along. Of course we're supposed to be shooting one of the sexier scenes tomorrow—at least his side of the shots, so I'm reminded of our night together and our morning together and how he makes me feel.
Fuck.
It would have been easier if I had never seen him again. Way, way, easier. But now that he's back in my life, I can't imagine a life without him. For better or worse, our lives are tangled together, and I think that it's too late to take it back. We’ve been waiting for each other for too damn long for this to be the end of us.
I have to fix it. I can fix it, if he’ll just talk to me.
But the phone never rings.
3
Peter
Past
I glance at the clock on the wall and let out a sigh. Ten minutes until my break is over, and then another three hours until my shift is finished. I'm exhausted, and all I want to do is crawl into my bed and sleep.
I never thought working at a restaurant could be so tiring, but it is. I go home every night so wasted that I can barely change my clothes before just collapsing on my bed. But that's what I need to do. I need the work. I'm going to make as much money as I can before I move out to Los Angeles.
Amber and I always talked about it, until everything happened. I don't know where she is or what she's doing, but I can still try to make our plan work. It's still what I want.
I have no idea where I'm going to live or what I'm going to do, but I want it. The acting bug bit, and now I need to know if I'm good enough. I'm probably not, but I can feel deep in my gut that I'll always regret it if I don't at least try.
There have been a couple of acting gigs I've done since graduating, local community theatre and a couple of small independent films, but not as much as I should be doing. Not if I want to succeed.
Fiddling with my phone, I blow out a sigh. How is it possible that time seems to move so slowly when I'm here at work? And then when I'm home, it flies. Everyone warns you about it, but being an adult kind of sucks. At least this part of it.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down. It's not a number I recognize. I don't pick it up. They can leave a message. I let it ring out, the phone vibrating on the break room table. I could fall asleep back here. They'd probably notice when I didn't come back from my break, though.
Not even two minutes later my phone rings again, same number. Probably somebody who's got the wrong one. They should have figured it out from my voicemail, but whatever. People can be dumb.
Two minutes left of my break, and my phone buzzes again. Just one vibration this time, and I glance at the screen. That number left a voicemail. I have no idea who it is, but I slide my finger across the screen and hold it up to my ear.
"Hi, Peter, it's me."
I nearly drop the phone, because I haven't heard that voice in years. Wasn't sure that I'd ever hear that voice again. It's my mom.
"I know it's been a long time, but call me when you get this. I'd love to talk to you." The line goes dead, and I feel like I'm drowning.
There's no time left on my break and I have to go back out onto the floor. But how do I go back and take orders and talk to people when I'm freaking the fuck out. What? What is this?
I moved out of my aunt's house after graduation because it was better for us. Our relationship is ten times better than it was when I lived there, and we've become much closer. Now she can just be my aunt and not have to act like my mother. But she needs to know about my actual mother, because I don't know what this means. I shoot her a quick text as I grab my order notebook and head back out to the front of the restaurant to take some tables.
My mom called me. She's still alive. She sounded clean. She was clean enough to find my number and track me down. What does she want? This is a good thing, right? My mind can't stop racing. Even when I'm smiling at people and rattling off the specials, making sure they have enough water and french fries, I'm not focusing because Mom called. She called.
The practical part of me is a little wary, but the kid who got dumped and shipped off to live with relatives is excited. All I've ever wanted is for her to be okay, and for us to be a family again. Maybe that can finally happen? I don't know. But I'm watching the clock move like the slowest thing in history as it counts down the time left on my shift. I'm going to call her as soon as I get home. I've already decided that. I can't not.
Even though there's a text from my aunt saying that this is probably a bad idea. I never had closure, and I need it. If I don't do this, I'm going to hate myself because I'm going to wonder what would have happened if I just called her. When my shift ends, I get out of the restaurant as fast as humanly possible and drive home way too fast. I'm lucky that I don't get pulled over.
I don't even take off my coat before I'm dialing the number. And it's ringing. It's ringing... and nothing. No answer. No voicemail. Just dead silence.
Shit.
I knew that this was too good to be true. I got my hopes up just like I used to when we lived in Virginia. I push away the sudden feeling of crushing loneliness that begins to seep in, and toss my phone onto the couch and take off my coat,. There's a small sound, and I turn to see my phone lit up, vibrating. I hate the way hope races up through my body, but I grab the phone and it's the same number.
"Hello?"
"Peter?"
My eyes get watery. "Hi, Mom."
"Sweetie!" She sounds so happy. "It's so good to hear your voice."
"You too." I can't keep the emotion out of my voice, so I don't say anything else.