Charactors

Sometimes, in my dreams, I become her. I crawl into her skin and her clothes, and I find myself in the same unpredictable situations that she finds herself in. There are cars racing about, explosions, betrayal, guns, blood. I feel her fear and her excitement – which are not really my own. I feel her feelings.

I know that I have to run, but I wait anxiously, watching, watching the top of that building, because that’s where he is, and I can’t leave him, I can never leave him. And as I see his body arch back gracefully, the scarlet blood pouring out of the bullet wound, I feel the strongest of terrors seize me, ‘JOHN!’

I wake up with my head pounding and tears in my eyes, tears that aren’t mine, tears that are hers.

Will grunts, and turns away from me. He’s awake, I know. There was a time when he used to comfort me when I had such dreams. He would rock me in his arms; sing lullabies with silly lyrics just to hear me giggle. He didn’t understand my fear, but he understood that I was frightened and that was enough for him.

Not anymore, though. I know what he thinks, what he suspects. And he knows that I know. He’s told me too, casually, of course. He wonders why I shout John and never Luke. Because she’s in love with Luke after all, not John. I don’t know, so I don’t answer.

A part of me falls a little more in love with John every time I see him. It’s not surprising considering my half and his half come together to make a whole. I see the love in his eyes, in the genuineness of his smile. He means it, he means his love.

Our relationship isn't describable off screen though. While it’s obvious that Luke loves Maya more than anything else in the world, with an earth-shattering romantic love, it’s hard to put into words what John and I have between us. It’s not sibling-hood, or friendship, or romance, it’s just love. Maybe that’s why I shout John in my dreams, because to me he was always John. Even when he portrays Luke, I see a bit of John in him, just the way he sees traces of Janice even in Maya. This doesn't have a bad impact on our acting though; in fact critics have praised our "chemistry".

I don’t know how to respond to these opinions, and so once again, I don’t answer.

Will and I fight very regularly now. It wasn't like this before. Before, he used to look at me the way Luke looks at Maya, and when I point this out he shouts some more.

‘Get your head out of your TV show! You’re letting it mess with you, you’re not you anymore! Where’s the Jan I know? The sweet one who likes extra sprinkles on her cupcakes. Not this tough, aggressive woman in front of me!’

‘I am me. What the hell do you mean by saying I’m not?’

‘See, there you go again! Aggressive!’

‘You’re accusing me unfairly, Will. I’m angry; don’t I have a right to show it? And what’s wrong with being aggressive?’

‘It’s not you, Jan.’

‘And who are you to define who I am?’

‘Goddamn it, Jan. I miss you. I miss you and I want you back to how you were. I’m sorry for ‘trying to define you’ but I just want you back.’

‘Will...I’m right here.’

‘I want Jan, not Maya. Jan.’

It’s Will’s birthday. I've told him I’m coming from work late, but actually I’m waiting for Martha to finish baking his favorite cake. Chocolate with nuts and a bunch of other ingredients that Martha puts together.

Martha’s is not some regular bakery, where they have the standard cakes that you order from. She’ll make what you want, and give it to you fresh out of the oven.  I asked for this cake yesterday, and in about half an hour, it’ll be ready for me to take home.

I read the magazines as I wait for the cake. Martha’s has got comfy sofas and armchairs and lots of magazines. Martha loves gossip though she’ll never admit it. ‘I just like seeing what they write about you celebrities, Janice. I know the truth, you are much better than they make you sound.’

I honestly find the magazines funny. They don’t really have much to report about me except for the fact that I have a close relationship with John. But then the tabloids have so many pictures of John with Sophie kissing, that they can’t really accuse me of anything.

‘Here you go, darling!’ Martha calls, and she shows me the beautiful cake before stowing it away in a box. I pay her the money, and leave, excited. I can’t wait to see Will’s expression. He seemed a little put out when I told him I am coming late, but we are making an honest effort to improve things and I know he’ll be delighted to see the cake.

The house is silent when I enter, the lights are off. Maybe he’s sleeping. I turn on the switch and wait for the lights, calling, ‘Will...’ No response.

The light flickers on. And I see the living room clean. Completely clean. Not one book on the table or newspaper under the chair. I turn to the kitchen and see a handwritten stuck on the fridge.

My heart beating fast, I near it, the cake still in my hand.

I’m sorry. I miss you Jan.

-          Will.

My heart stops for a second. It stays completely still. He’s gone. Gone.

I put down the cake before rushing to our room. His cupboard’s empty.

I feel a wave of shock wash over me. He can’t be gone, he can’t be.

But he is.

And in the end?

I’m left with a chocolate and nut cake. And a broken heart.

‘Shhh.’ John holds me as I cry. Tear after tear falls, and they seem to have no plan of stopping. Sophie watches me worriedly, the tea she made for me still in her hand.

‘Janice ...’ she starts. John shakes his head, and she quietly leaves the room.

‘Hey, Jan. He doesn't deserve you, get it? He didn't accept you. He isn't special. I can sing lullabies, too! See, Rock-a-bye beetle in a clay house...’

I smile with a sniffle, ‘That’s the lamest thing I've ever heard.’

‘There ya go.’

He holds me up so I look at him, ‘You want me to be honest with you, Jan?’ he says in a serious tone.

‘Yeah.’

‘You've got the cutest nose of anyone I've ever seen.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Totally. But let me tell you something seriously, Janice.’

‘I know my ears are cute too.’

‘They are, but I prefer Sophie’s.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘Janice.’ John looks hard at me. There’s no trace of amusement on his face, ‘He doesn't deserve you.’ Oh, I wish it’s that easy. He doesn't deserve me. I wish I could I believe it.

‘Jan, does it look like I’m lying? When have I ever lied to you?’

John’s right about that, though. He never lies to me.

‘What makes you think that, John? Why doesn't he deserve me?’

 ‘He didn't appreciate your love for him.’

I think about this. I remember the accusations in Will’s eyes as he saw me with John. I see confusion in Sophie’s eyes too. Sophie is ... different. She doesn't blame John for being like Luke sometimes. She understands how attached an actor can get to his character. And besides, she herself was an actress. She understands the feelings. She even acted in our show as Holly, a minor villain. When John (as Luke) killed Holly, he had actual tears in his eyes. Technically, Luke wasn't even supposed to get along with Holly but John and Sophie's amazing chemistry convinced the script-writers otherwise. There was no doubt that from the start John and Sophie clicked, but even she can't understand our relationship. No one can. Not even us.

'John?'

'Yeah?'

'Who are we?'

'Two people who love each other.'

***

I'm alone in a wooded area. The sun shines brightly through the leaves. A calming breeze blows. I feel like my negative thoughts are oozing out of my pores, leaving me peaceful.

'Janice.'

That's all it takes. One word. And the resentment and anger are back.

'You.' I turn around. She's sitting on one of the shorter trees. Her long black hair flies in the wind. She looks at me keenly.

'You blame me, don't you?' She asks. Her voice is soft but precise.

'Yes. You know I do. Can't you leave me alone this once?' I ask, my voice rising with every syllable.

Maya hops down from the tree. She's supposed to look exactly like me, but she doesn't. Even in my mind, her hair is longer, her eyes are more cat-like and a more olive shade of green. Her body is more tanned and leaner. They are such subtle differences, but make us look more like cousins than twins.

'Oh God, look at me.' I moan, 'I'm blaming a fictional character for my breakup. How messed up am I?'

Maya raises one perfect eyebrow, 'I'm not fictional.'

'Yes, you are. You are fictional. You have a fictional story with fictional friends and family and you live in a fictional place and work for a fictional company. You. Are. Fictional.'

Maya looks at me with a small smile on her face as if she knows better, 'I don't have my own body, but I have my own story and friends and family. I have my own character. That makes me real, Janice. We define people who are original and down to earth as real. So I am real. Character isn't tangible or visible. We sense it, so we know it's real. Besides, if you really think I was fictional, why are you talking to me right now?'

I refuse to meet her gaze. I need to blame someone right now.

'He thought I was turning into you. He thought the show was all I cared about. He was right.' My voice is hard.

'Will was jealous, Jan.'

'Because I am so close to John?'

'He was jealous of you.'

I turn around immediately. 'What?'

Maya smirks, 'You loved your job. He didn't. For him, work ended with his coming home, but for you, your work was everywhere, it was in the way you saw the world.'

'But I took it too seriously.'

'Maybe you did. But that jealousy never went away. Anyone could see you cared for him, he refused to see it. That jealousy turned to resentment and then anger towards John and your change in character.'

'But I have become more aggressive.'

'I've rubbed off on you, Janice, the same way one person rubs off on another. Will refused to see the part of you that was still sweet and caring. The thing about a person is that they are made of a series of core values. People influence them, they add layers to this core, but they don't really change it.'

'You're confusing.'

'I'm right.'

I shake my head, 'I shouldn't be so close to John.'

Maya shrugs, 'No, you shouldn't. But he's the only one who's still good for you.'

I try to take in this vague reply.

Maya steps closer to me, becoming ... transparent. She comes even closer.

'Come on, ' she says, now nearly invisible.

She takes one more step and she's inside me, 'Let's kill some bad guys.'

A Walk in the Park.

The other day I went to the park and saw my old friend Bertie. I hadn't seen him for ages. I'd gone to Central Park with Fred because I really wanted to go for a walk, and naturally I pulled him along. We were strolling casually down a secluded cobblestone path when I heard my name.
'Hey, Charlie!'
I looked over and saw to my great surprise, Bertie, standing not too far away from us, with Margherita (of course, he came along with her!). I couldn't control my excitement, and Fred was quite happy too. We decided to go to a nearby cafe to catch up on things.
While Fred and Margherita walked together, I chatted with Bertie. He was a war chap, with a hefty, well-built frame I could only dream of. But his leg had been injured amidst the fighting and he now walked with a permanent limp.
'How ya doing, old fellow?' I asked.
'Yeah, all right,' Bertie said rather half-heartedly.
'How's that lady you were seeing, from Upper East Side?'
Bertie laughed, 'That's old news buddy. Has it really been that long since I met you?'
'I suppose so, yes.'
'Well, that never really went ahead, Charlie. Right now, it's just me and Margherita. My health hasn't been treating me too good, though.'
'Oh, pooh. It'll pull through, you'll manage, you always do.'
Bertie looked at me, and some of the light in his eyes faded, 'I'm serious pal, the doc figures I've got a few months left.'
I stopped in my path, just looking at my old friend. I'd known him forever. Even the thought of him gone shook me. It wasn't possible.
'Come on, bud.'
I continued walking.

We reached the cafe soon enough, but I hadn't said a single word. It just wasn't fair. Bertie had survived too much. While Fred chose a table, Bertie came and sat next to me, 'Hey, it'll be all right, it always is. I'm old, pal, and I've had good times, good friends like you, and a good life in service.' 
He said no more, just comforting me with his presence.

*                                                                     *                                                                      *

Meanwhile, Fred and Margherita sipped on their coffees.
'I'm sad to hear about Bertie's health.'
'Yes, me too.'
'It's just amazing how close Bertie and Charlie are, isn't it, Marge?'
'It's pretty darn amazing all right, we've got ourselves some amazing dogs, Fred.'