Page 81 of Director's Cut
Maeve nods. “They’re very thought-provoking.”
“All good, I hope.”
“Very good.” Even at this professional distance, she makes my heart flutter.
“And then you’ll tell me why you’re so fucking obsessed with La Vie d’Adèle.”
Maeve exchanges a look with Ty.
“The question is why you’re not obsessed with it!” Ty says.
I just brought up queer cinema. Oakley in Flames is queer cinema. It’s the perfect opportunity to bring up Cannes. With Charlie on board, all we have to figure out are flights for Maeve. Once the class is taken care of, we can do the fun stuff—I’ll walk her through the first-class plane ticket, the luxury hotel accommodation, get her some more nice dresses for the red carpet. It’ll be like the Oscars, but better. We can rip off the Band-Aid and I can start being an actual functioning human being. I can do this. The natural antianxiety medication works.
But even turning to meet Maeve’s gaze is making my heart hammer, my stomach twist up. “I know the newest book is about 2000s queer cinema, but do you keep up with what’s coming out now?”
Maeve rubs the back of her neck. “I did up until maybe three months ago, but it’s been difficult with my schedule lately. I need to get a schedule going again.”
It feels like my ribs are pressing against my lungs, digging into them. I don’t dare take a breath for fear they pop like balloons. “I could get you tickets to festivals featuring the newest queer cinema, just so you know.” And Oakley in Flames got into Cannes…
She smiles. “That’d be amazing.” That smile, the one that filled my heart, holds me in a chokehold. I genuinely can’t breathe.
“Yeah, uh”—I rub the back of my neck—“there’s tons of amazing work out there right now.”
Maeve’s lips twitch downward. “Babe, are you okay?”
I force a breath, but it’s like I’m trying to fill a pool with a bucket. The room starts to blur around the edges. And why the hell did I start this conversation with Ty in the room looking even more confused than Maeve?
“I’m—I—” Oakley in Flames got into Cannes. This is the biggest career win I’ve had since my Oscar nomination. It could change my life, and I want you there if you’ll ever forgive me for leaving for two weeks at crunch time in the most important semester of your career.
There’s a knock on the door.
It’s Ashlee.
“Hey, everyone,” she says, chipper and completely oblivious to what just transpired. “I’m so sorry it’s been so long since we last spoke. Maeve, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit in on the last class of the semester. That’ll be okay, right?”
The same week as my Cannes premiere.
I look at Ashlee and speak with the desperation of someone begging for their life. “I don’t mean to be this way, but I actually have something planned that week. Could we do before or after?”
Ashlee frowns. “I’m so sorry, Valeria, but that’s the only time we can fit it in. We’re already pushing up on the grant decision date.”
I’ll make this work. I can’t let Maeve down. “I should be able to move my conflict. Don’t worry about it.”
Maeve looks to me, head cocked. I give a soft dismissive wave.
“Sounds great to me,” she says to Ashlee. “Get it out of the way before my conference in late May.”
Ashlee smiles. “Perfect.”
Maybe I’m too exhausted. I must be. There’s no feeling in my body. Only the sensation that I’m a little too far away, a little too distant to feel the texture of Maeve’s couch or the cold punch of the air-conditioning or the heat of Maeve’s gaze on me.
“What do you have planned for that week?” she asks.
I can just say it right now. Oakley got into Cannes. Waiting for Ashlee to confirm the date was just an excuse, anyway.
“Nothing that can’t be moved,” I reply.
I wasn’t able to get the confession out. I hate myself for it, but I can’t.