Grace
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“Your ex-wife.”
The words struck Grace to the heart.
She stared at Rafa, hoping against hope that she’d somehow misheard or misunderstood. But the shock, horror, and guilt written all over his face told her everything she needed to know.
The words flew out of her mouth as fast as she could think them: “Ex-wife? Ex-wife? You and Paris used to be married?! You said you’d never been romantically involved!”
“We weren’t!” Rafa exclaimed. “Yes, we did used to be married, but only—”
Paris’s clear voice cut through his deep one; she’d returned from the dressing room and was standing with a thermos dangling from her hand. “Rafa, you didn’t tell her?”
“I was going to—I was waiting for the right moment—” he protested.
“The right moment would have been before we had sex!” Grace shouted.
“You had sex with the bodyguard?” Brady asked, at the same moment that Paris said accusingly to Rafa, “You had sex with Grace and you didn’t tell her?”
“Yeah, but—” Rafa began.
“How could you?” said the silver-haired woman.
“What the hell, man!” exclaimed Rafa’s friend Nick.
Rafa turned to Grace. He looked like he’d been stabbed in the heart, but that didn’t make her feel any better. She worked with actors. A good actor could make himself show any emotion he liked. Her ex-boyfriend Dean had been a very good actor.
“I’m so, so sorry.” Rafa sounded sincere. But then, he would. “I should have told you right away. But it’s not what you think. We were only married for—”
Liar, Grace thought, the storm in her mind too loud to hear the rest of what he was saying. Cheater. Too good to be true.
Anger and sadness fought within her, and sadness won. She burst into tears.
Yesterday, she would have thought that crying in front of everyone and on the job would be her worst nightmare come true. But now she knew what her real worst nightmare was. It was meeting a man who she’d dared to dream might be her man. Her one-and-only, forever. And then discovering that he was just the pretense of a good guy, not the real thing; an actor playing a role, as fake as the Mars rocks made of painted canvas stretched over a wooden frame.
After a few minutes, she became vaguely aware of assorted actors and stagehands and musicians trying to comfort her, and also of Rafa and Nick shouting at each other.
“You never fucking told me not to mention that Paris was your ex!” Nick yelled.
“She’s not my ex, that’s the thing!” Rafa’s deep voice seemed to shake the rafters.
“How the hell is she not your ex when you were fucking married?!” Nick retorted.
“Hey! Can you two have this discussion outside?” Lubomir broke in. “We have work to do in here.”
“I can’t leave. I’m guarding everyone,” Rafa protested.
The silver-haired woman cleared her throat. “Nick, Manuel, let’s go. We can sort this out at some better time and place.”
Nick’s green eyes flashed angrily, but he acquiesced. “Fine. Me and Manuel can go hunting, like we planned.”
Manuel dragged his feet as Nick and the silver-haired woman started to hustle him out the door. “Could we come back later?”
“Yeah, sure,” Nick threw out, his words clearly aimed more at Rafa than at the college kid. “We’ll come back when things are less fucked up, if they’re ever less fucked up.”
When the door closed behind them, a heavy silence fell across the theatre. Grace dragged her arm across her eyes, willing herself to stop crying. Her sleeve came back soaking wet.
“Grace, why don’t you take a break?” Lubomir suggested. “As long as you like. Carl can run things for a while.”
“Absolutely,” said Carl.
Rafa looked grateful for the suggestion. To Grace, he said, “Let’s go outside and talk. I can explain—”
“NO!” Grace was startled by her own voice, both by how loud it was and by its sheer rage. “You lied to me. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t even want to see you. If you respect me at all, you’ll go away. Without arguing. NOW.”
She stared at Rafa, willing him to leave. But she was wearily certain that he wouldn’t. Sure, he’d given lip service to respecting women’s choices. But he was a cheater and liar, just like Dean. And just like Dean, he’d ignore what she’d said and say she didn’t understand and let me just explain and give me one more chance and—
“All right,” Rafa said. “I’m going outside to guard the theatre, but I’ll call one of my teammates to take over for me. I’ll leave as soon as they get here. If you do decide you want to talk, they all have my number. I hope you do. But I know I screwed up. And I’m not going to be one of those assholes who doesn’t take no for an answer.”
To Grace’s shock, he turned around and walked out.
The silence that fell after he was gone felt different from the last one. That one had felt as if it was silent because she was locked up alone and underground. This one felt as if it was silent because she was alone in a room where anyone might walk in and say something—maybe someone she wanted to see, saying something she wanted to hear.
“I don’t know if you want to hear anything from me,” Paris said quietly. “I realize that I’m the ex-wife...”
Grace sniffed hard and said, “I heard what you said to him. You thought he’d told me already. I’m not mad at you.”
“In that case...” Oddly, Paris wasn’t looking at Grace. For some reason, she was watching Ruth as she spoke. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad at Rafa. He should have told you we used to be married. But it actually is true that we were never romantically involved.”
“Why would you get married if you weren’t?” Grace asked, unsure if she even believed Paris.
“Well... If there was something you wanted to cover up... Something you didn’t want people to know... Something I didn’t want people to know...” Paris took a deep breath and seemed to brace herself. Raising her voice, she announced to the entire theatre. “Something like not being into guys.”
Grace was startled. It was so completely different from anything she’d expected Paris to say. And then, thinking back to so many little moments during rehearsals, she wasn’t surprised at all. More than that, she knew in her heart that Paris was telling the truth.
Paris looked straight at Ruth as she said, “I like women. I’ve only ever liked women. And right now, I like one specific woman... One beautiful, brilliant woman who likes math and Mars and chocolate fudge cupcakes, and has the cutest rescue pet ever.”
“Oh my God,” Ruth blurted out. “I thought it was just me. I wasn’t going to say anything about the huge crush I had on you, when you were probably straight or not into scientists or just not into me—”
“Oh, I am so into you, Ruth,” Paris broke in.
The women practically fell into each other’s arms. Paris reached up and tugged the pins out of Ruth’s hair, making it fall down her back. It was as long as Paris’s own.
They didn’t stop kissing until Lubomir cleared his throat. “Congratulations!”
At that, they broke apart, both looking radiant. And also slightly guilty.
“I hate to interrupt you lovebirds,” Lubomir went on, “But we’re incredibly late for the rehearsal. So here’s my acting note for you for the next scene, Paris: pretend that Brady is Ruth.”
“That’s why I didn’t come out till now,” Paris admitted. “I was afraid audiences wouldn’t accept me playing romantic leads with men if they knew.”
“It’s acting, Paris,” Brady pointed out. “I don’t actually want to have sex with you either.”
Angry mutters arose from a violinist, an actress, and a stagehand. “She’d be the first woman you didn’t!”
“We need to rehearse now,” Lubomir said.
Everyone kept on talking. Automatically, Grace raised her voice so it would echo across the theatre: “PLACES PLEASE! Everyone, please take your places!”
Everyone stopped talking and hurried to their places. Grace sat down with her laptop, put on her headset, and lit the stage.
“Stand by to bring on the crashed spaceship,” she began. “Stand by for the “Mars at night” backdrop. Stand by...”
As she continued speaking, she realized that for the last few minutes, she’d gotten so caught up in her work and in the reveal of Paris and Ruth’s secret crush, she’d forgotten her own heartbreak. Instantly, the memory of Rafa being unmasked as a liar returned, hitting her like a kick in the stomach.
But as her voice flowed on and her fingers tapped the keys, she followed that thought. It was true that he hadn’t told her something that he should have. But he’d apparently been honest about the most important thing: he and Paris hadn’t been in love. From what Paris had said, it sounded like their marriage had been a sham to protect her and her career.
And even if there had been more to it than that, it was obvious that it was over now. Sure, they liked each other. As friends. She’d seen how Paris looked at Rafa, and how she looked at Ruth. More importantly, she’d seen how Rafa looked at Paris, and how he looked at her.
She thought again about Paris and Ruth. Their romance had been going on right under her nose, and Grace had never noticed—she’d been too wrapped up in her own romance. But everything wasn’t about her. Other people had their own lives, their own secrets, and their own reasons for doing things. Just because Grace had been burned by a charming cheater once didn’t mean that all charming men were cheaters.
Rafa must have had his reasons for keeping his secret. Maybe they had nothing to do with being a liar or a cheater or trying to trick her, any more than Paris’s secret made her a liar or a cheater or trying to trick Ruth.
He should have told her. But she could guess why he hadn’t. If one of her exes had been working on the show with her—if, say, Lubomir was her ex-husband—she’d have been nervous about telling Rafa too.
Besides, he had respected her. She’d told him to leave, and he’d left—but he’d made sure she was protected first.
Maybe he wasn’t too good to be true, after all.
As soon as the rehearsal was over, she’d call him up, listen to what he had to say, and only then make up her mind.
With that decision, a weight seemed to lift from Grace’s chest.
And a second later, it came crashing down again. She’d refused to listen to his explanation, yelled at him, called him a liar, and kicked him out of the theatre.
Sure, she’d give him another chance. But would he give her another chance?