Heatstroke (extended version) (11 page)

 

The plane was shaking like crazy.

 

Michael put the journal down and shut his eyes, praying the turbulence didn't last long.

 

"Damn," he whispered. "I hate this shit."

 

He gripped the armrests of his seat and ignored his travel companion, some business man who

 

was shooting dirty looks his way, as if he wasn't scared shitless himself. Michael hated people like

 

that.

 

Once the turbulence was finally over, he took the credit card he was only supposed to use for

 

emergencies and called his grandma's house.

 

Michael knew his dad had been close to getting himself a ticket and boarding the plane to Florida

 

with him, but ultimately decided he needed more answers from his mother. Not to mention, he was

 

an extremely responsible man. Regardless of how he felt about Grandma Elizabeth at the moment,

 

he'd never forgive himself if he didn't finish the task of driving her to all her medical appointments.

 

Only then would he be able to leave Lake Tahoe behind and go meet his family on his dad's side.

 

"Hello? Honey, is that you?"

 

Michael smiled, and let out a deep breath. Although his parents had never been touchy-feely with one another, they had always been very

 

loving and supportive of him. Michael never had a reason to doubt they wouldn't give their own

 

lives for their son's, but he never saw anything that would indicate they'd do the same for each other.

 

Last night's events had changed that, and he was psyched to know their relationship was solid as a

 

rock.

 

"Michael?"

 

"Yeah, Mom," he said. "It's me."

 

"Is everything alright? You didn't land yet, did you?"

 

She sounded tired and worried out of her mind. Michael knew she probably hadn't even been to

 

bed yet. She'd been in protective mode for hours now.

 

"I'm halfway across the country, but wanted to check on you guys. How's everything with

 

Grandma and Dad?"

 

"Well, your father finally went to bed, thank goodness. He's exhausted after… you know…"

 

Michael waited a few seconds. He was sure his mother was trying not to cry again. "He called Aunt

 

Helen and spoke with her for a while. You have no idea, she was so happy to hear from him. They

 

made arrangements. Dad and I are traveling to Florida early tomorrow."

 

"What about Grandpa?" Michael asked. "Did she say anything about him? I'm still so mad with

 

her for not telling me anything." He was thrilled to talk to the woman he'd gotten to know through

 

his grandpa's journals, but she'd totally pissed him off by withholding the information he wanted the

 

most. "She could've told me whether Grandpa's alive or not, couldn't she? I don't get what the big

 

fucking deal is."

 

"Michael, language!"

 

He rolled his eyes. "Sooorryyyyy!"

 

"For your and Dad's sake, I'm hoping he's alive, but honey, you have to be prepared that he might not be. Maybe that's why Aunt Helen hasn't said anything. I wouldn't tell you over the phone either."

 

"I could've handled it," he grumbled.

 

"Besides, she was probably afraid you wouldn't have gone to see her if you knew Grandpa

 

Richard isn't around anymore."

 

"Well, that's bullshit!"

 

"Michael, do not be disrespectful to Aunt Helen, do you hear me?"

 

"Come on, Mom; I won't. I'm just— you know."

 

"I know. Believe me, I know," she repeated softly. "Listen, I need to let you go. I'm going to take

 

Grandma to her doctor's appointment and let Dad rest for a while. He needs it very much. And so

 

do you. Put those journals away for a bit, and make sure you get some sleep, okay?"

 

"Okay, Mom," he agreed, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to.

 

"And call me as soon as you get to Sarasota," she demanded. "We need to know that everything's

 

okay."

 

"I will."

 

"Love you, honey."

 

"Love you too, Mom."

 

The moment he hung up with his mother, he dialed his best friend's cell phone number.

 

"This better be the asshole that hasn't bothered to call me in days even though I helped him track

 

down his long lost family," Charlie said after half a ring. "And don't you dare tell me service sucks at

 

the lake."

 

"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since we last talked," Michael argued.

 

"You could've called me on your way to the airport."

 

"I'm calling you now, from the plane, and it's gonna cost me a fortune."

 

"Everything's changed since we spoke yesterday. Even your identity's different." "Not yet, it isn't," Michael said with a smile. "And I'm still your best friend."

 

He let out a sigh and stretched his legs as much as he could.

 

Friendly banter with his partner in crime was exactly what Michael needed after the turmoil from

 

the past few hours. It was familiar territory. Something they'd been doing since they first met. It felt

 

like heaven… and he was terrified of losing it now that they'd been forced to go their separate ways.

 

"You need to tell me the important stuff immediately," Charlie enunciated. "Confirming your

 

grandpa is a Hollywood legend, and finding out Manny Guzman literally swung his way qualifies as

 

such, so you don't wait to get on a plane before you call me!"

 

"Fine, I won't do it again."

 

"I can't believe your grandma admitted Richard Bancroft is your grandpa."

 

"Yeah, I thought she'd deny it but— wait. How do you know this?"

 

"Glad you ask," Charlie said in a sarcastic tone. "I only know this 'cause your mom told me. Not

 

you, but your
mom
. I resent that, dude."

 

"When did you talk to her?"

 

"A while ago when I called to make sure you'd survived the wrath of your grandmother."

 

"You're so dramatic," Michael chuckled.

 

"You wouldn't change me for anything."

 

"You know it." He swallowed hard and brushed his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry my mom

 

beat me to the punch."

 

"I'm just giving you shit, but seriously, how are you handling things?"

 

Michael sighed and closed his eyes. "The anxiety's killing me," he confessed. "Not knowing what

 

to expect…" He bit the inside of his cheek and cleared his throat. "I don't want to get my hopes up.

 

It's all so stupid. I mean, I never met my grandpa, but to uncover the truth only to find out he's

 

dead, and I'll never be able to…" "To what?" Charlie prompted.

 

"To meet him, and make things right for Dad, I guess…" He shook his head. "That'd be messed

 

up."

 

"Yeah…"

 

"I
so
wish you could be here with me," Michael whispered.

 

"Which is why I talked your mom into letting me tag along," Charlie announced triumphantly.

 

"She knows this is a time when you'll need your best friend by your side, so hang on tight, okay? I'll

 

be there tomorrow to wipe out your tears and snot, and celebrate with you. Besides, we must discuss

 

custody arrangements of our couch."

 

A weird noise made its way up Michael's throat. It was half-laugh, half-sob.

 

The couch in reference was something they had bought together and kept in their dorm room for

 

the past three years. They both loved it, and had fond memories of it. Neither had wanted to give it

 

up, and ultimately decided they'd take turns keeping it. They had yet to decide who got first watch.

 

"You're the best," he told his friend.

 

"And you're lucky to have me."

 

Michael laughed. "Fuck off."

 

"See ya tomorrow, Mike."

 

"See ya."

 

Michael ended the call and opened the journal.

 

February 4, 1967
We fought again today. It seems like Mary Elizabeth and I can't be in the same room together without having an
argument over one thing or another. A party I don't want to go to, a party I refuse to show up to even when we are the
hosts, my newly found appreciation for gin, my lack of appreciation for her beauty, my obsession with being a good dad, the time I spend writing my stories, the possible reasons why I leave our marital bed every night to go out to the
patio to watch the ocean until the sun comes up and it's time to go back to work…
She has a problem with everything. I do my best to make her happy, but it doesn't seem to be working.
I need to get more gin.
April 23, 1967
I won another Academy Award. I'll drink to that.
May 30, 1967
I dreamt of him tonight. We were together again, making love under the stars; the sound of the waves crashing
around us.
I need to see him. God, what wouldn't I do to be able to see him for a little while.
July 4, 1967
Richie is such a smart little boy. He's the joy of my life and I missed him so much the past four weeks.
Going to different locations to work on new films isn't something I like to do anymore. I prefer to be home with my
son. That's why I'm considering working on television from now on. I don't want to be away from him.
We christened him today. Benjamin will be a wonderful godfather. I know he will.
July 25, 1967
Actors slip into somebody else's life every day we go to work. We talk different; behave different from how we
normally do. Every role is a challenge that requires dedication and attention to detail.
As an actor I have learned the ways of bankers, doctors, construction workers, cowboys, policemen and priests. I
can laugh and cry at will. I'm so good at pretending to be someone else that I've been recognized for my good work in more than one occasion.
Yet, I can't pretend that I'm not dead inside; that the only thing in the world that matters anymore is my son.
He gives me the strength I need to keep working and make it through the day… through another day.
August 12, 1967
It could have been a perfect visit. My parents met their grandson for the first time. Helen and her husband joined
us as well. She is pregnant and happy.
But Mary Elizabeth isn't.
She ruined the one weekend I was looking forward to. August is a difficult time of the year for me. Going home to
New Jersey, a place where nothing reminds me of what could have been but was not, was supposed to keep me occupied
and entertained. I was hoping that being around my family would make me feel happy. That maybe the excitement of
seeing them again would stop me from trying to drown my sorrows in gin, which is something I seem to be doing every
day.
I don't want to turn into a drunk. I don't.
Mary Elizabeth decided it was a good time to discuss my flaws and how much of an inadequate husband I turned
out to be. She claims I mislead her. That by marrying an actor she had expected to lead a glamorous life. Instead she's
home changing diapers. She says I don't love or appreciate her. She whined and nagged so much I wanted to kill
myself.
She also complained about my decision of not making any movies that will take me away from home and the
amount of time I spend writing stupid stories that no one cares about. She begged my mother to talk to me and
convince me to be reasonable; to make me see that giving up my fame and fortune would be insane.
I had to laugh. I hadn't realized until that moment how little she knew me. By God, if she wanted for someone to
convince me of something, she should've asked Helen. After all, it is because of my sister that I ended up married to
Mary Elizabeth. September 8, 1967
It is my son's first birthday. I willingly hosted a party today. I celebrated having him in my life.
Mary Elizabeth was happy again. She even wanted to have sex.
This is the reason why I'm hiding in my studio.
I can't be with her… I just… I can't…
November 22, 1967
I saw Manny today. I stood close enough to smell his scent; to feel the heat of his skin on mine.
It happened at Benjamin's house. I received excellent news in the mail from Benjamin's attorney and I had to
thank my friend for helping me decide what to do with the stories I've been writing. I drove to his house unannounced.
Manny was visiting with Benjamin when I got to his place. They've remained friends, and I'm grateful for it. Even
though I've stopped putting Benjamin in a difficult position by asking him to give me details, it is comforting to know I
talk to someone who, in turn, talks to Manny.
I took a look at him and froze, but at the same time I was consumed by the heat that covers my entire body
whenever I'm near him. I was paralyzed and incapable of saying anything. I just kept looking at him; praying that
he'd stay long enough so that I could at least breathe him in.
He didn't talk to me and excused himself far too soon, but I could tell he wanted to come to me. He almost did.
He took a step toward me and extended his hand… perhaps to touch me? Maybe he wanted to take me in his arms
and never let me go. God, I wish he had. I wish he'd told me how stupid I was for giving him up, then finally forgive
me and take me away. I wish I could become a hippie or a beach bum or whatever he decides we have to be in order to
be together. I wish I knew how he feels.
He never touched me. He didn't even talk to me. He just excused himself and left.
He left. December 5, 1967
Mary Elizabeth thinks I'm being unfaithful to her. I assured her I am not, but she demanded I told her who my
mistress is. I asked what makes her think I have one. She said we don't have sex. That is the truth. I have no desire
for her, but that doesn't mean I have a mistress.
I told her I'm preoccupied about work and changes in the movie industry. She screamed at me so much she woke
up the baby. I told her to settle down. She said I only care about my son. Of course I do. I told her that, and also that
she should care about him too. It isn't good for the baby to get scared like that. She yelled some more and threw me out
of our room.
I don't think I'm ever going back.
December 24, 1967
I drove by Manny's house today. I parked across the street and had a few drinks with him. I talked to him. I told
him how much I miss him… how much I hurt…
I asked if he still hates me or if he even thinks about me anymore. I asked him if he's happy and if he found
somebody else to love.
I'm glad he didn't answer. I'm not entirely sure what would have happened had I been able to confirm my Manny
loves somebody else.
December 31, 1967
We hosted a party tonight. Mary Elizabeth had a marvelous time. I just went upstairs and played with my son.
January 25, 1968
We fought again, and it was louder than ever before. Mary Elizabeth was livid. In order to discover who my mistress is she's been looking through my things. This afternoon she found my journals.
I didn't deny any of it. And it felt so good to be able to be honest with her. About what I am and who I have
loved for years. I told her the marriage isn't working for me. That it isn't fair for her to live with a man who will
always belong to another man. She wanted to call the doctors and have them treat my condition. Said they'll be able to
cure me.
She asked if I'm with Manny. I was honest with her. I said that I broke his heart and he hasn't talked to me for
many years. I don't have any illusions he ever will. But that doesn't change the fact that I'll never love her the way she
deserves to be loved.
I told her I want a divorce.
She hasn't talked to me in the past hour. I'll wait a little longer and give her time to calm down, and then I'll try
to reason with her again. We need to be able to come to some kind of understanding. We owe it to our son. I don't want to do anything that might hurt him.