The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara

Forty-Five

When the show is over, we walk toward the exit, but we pass through a wide hallway before we can get there. It’s more like a grandiose foyer with red walls, gigantic chandeliers and one of those arched marble staircases like in the movies.

“This is impressive,” I say to Ethan.

He turns to me and smiles.

I look around. There are perhaps a hundred, maybe more, people squeezed in here, and nobody seems to be in a rush to leave. They’re standing around, in small and large groups, chatting and drinking champagne.

I look at my watch.

“This is your crowd? The ‘one o’clock champagne and theater’ cool kids group?”

He laughs quietly.

Ethan nods a few times, left and right, smiles and shakes a man’s hand.

“If we move fast enough, we can survive this without any major scars,” he says quietly.

But it’s pretty crowded and it’s not like you can make a run for it. We have to go from one side to the other of the room.

“Ethan,” I hear a woman’s voice behind us.

He stops short. “There might be some scars after all,” he whispers in my ear, his mouth so close to my face, I instinctively pull back.

“Dinah,” he says and hugs a woman in her sixties, with silver-white hair up in a fancy bun, long dangling earrings that sparkle in the chandeliers’ pale lights, and a long black dress.

“I’m so glad you could make it. Cameron will be so happy you came to his premiere. He’s somewhere around. You know, doing the rounds.”

Ethan smiles. A different kind of smile than his usual. It reminds me of his expression in that photo at the awards ceremony, with his ex. It’s stiff, pained a bit.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it. Thank you for inviting—” He stops. “Us.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, and now her attention is on me, her dark eyes drilling through me like I’m in an X-ray machine. “Who’s your lovely friend?”

“This is Maya,” he says.

“Maya? The famous Maya? I’m so glad to finally meet you. What an absolute pleasure. I didn’t know you two—”

Ethan squeezes my arm and looks me in the eye, as if saying, ‘just go with it. Play along.’

I don’t know what I’m playing at, but I’ll do it.

“I have to tell Cameron about this,” she says. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Ethan lets out a loud sigh when she leaves. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. It’s my fault.”

“What was that all about? Did she think I was someone else?”

“Yes. No. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on our way back, but for now, please, just be—”

“Maya?”

He smiles. “Yes.”

“I think I can do that.”

“And, whatever I say or do, just, you know, it’s part of this—”

“Charade you’re pulling?”

“Sort of.”

He barely finishes his words when Dinah returns with a man, about her age, equally elegant. Behind them is a guy with a camera and a long lens, the ones Mason used for sporting events rather than social gatherings.

Cameron, who is two heads taller than Ethan and much more solid, lunges at Ethan and squeezes him in a bear hug.

“Ethan, son,” he says, his baritone voice attracting curious glances.

I pull at Ethan’s sleeve. “He’s your father?”

I’m surprised—shocked—and I sound like it.

He turns to me and whispers, “He just calls me that. Another long story.”

“Thank you for coming and bringing along your beautiful lady. We’ve heard so much about you, Maya,” the man says to me and grins.

I smile. It’s a fake, forced smile, but I’m doing the best that I can with the little I know.

I might’ve told a couple of lies, but I wonder how those compare to what Ethan has been doing with these people, whoever they are.

“Let’s all take a photo,” says Dinah, and without waiting for an answer, comes over to my left, while Cameron moves over to Ethan’s right.

The photographer snaps a few photos and both Ethan and I are frozen, probably with the same kind of plastic smiles on our faces.

“And one just with you two,” says Cameron, sounding all excited.

Ethan and I are left alone now, while Dinah and Cameron stand in front of us, next to the photographer and stare.

“Don’t be shy. It’s alright. Just ignore the camera,” says Cameron.

Cameron and Dinah continue to stare. The photographer isn’t taking any pictures.

I turn to Ethan, trying to ask him, without words, now what? What do they want from us?

I think he understood because he takes my hand in his and pulls me to him.

I let him do it. The same feeling from earlier. This time though, I also have goose bumps all over my body. I’m fine. This is not real. It’s just… whatever it is.

“Just smile,” he says through his teeth.

“Can you look at each other?” asks the photographer.

We listen, and both turn and look at each other, still holding hands. I have looked into his eyes before. That very first day at the café, that first night on the terrace, and the last few days. Countless times. OK, not countless, but plenty. Now, it’s different somehow.

“Beautiful,” says the photographer, and I hear his voice as if it’s coming from far away.

We’re still looking into each other’s eyes and I’m losing track of time. Is it a second? A minute? I almost forget there are people around.

I hear, as if from another dimension, “A kiss?” but I can’t be sure anyone said that or if my mind fabricated it. I can’t be sure of anything right now. At this very moment, there’s only one thing for certain. My lips are inches away from his lips. Or are his lips inches away from mine? Who’s doing this? Him or me? His hand caresses my face. And then, just like that, our lips touch and I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. It’s dizzying and overpowering, and I’m out of breath.

I pull back, my legs feeling wobbly, and stare at him. He holds my gaze.

“Perfect, got it,” I hear the photographer say and I’m immediately brought back to reality.

A feeling of panic comes over me. What’s going on? What am I doing? Why did I kiss this man? He is Max’s friend. What did I do?

I take a step back and he lets go of my hand.

“I have to go,” I say and neither Cameron, Dinah nor the photographer even mind me, as I’m making my way through the crowds and outside. I need air.

At the door, Ethan is right behind me.

“What was that all about, Ethan? We shouldn’t have—” I am all out of words.

“Maya, I— Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I was hoping for a better moment, but I didn’t foresee this. Today. I guess now’s as good a time as any though.”

He takes a step toward me and without thinking, I just blabber, “Ethan, I can’t have those photos posted online. I don’t know who those people are or what they were going to do with them. They can keep them for themselves, but they can’t share them or put them on social or anywhere else. Nowhere public, OK?” I hear myself sounding hysterical. “He can’t see this, no matter what. What just happened isn’t even real. You know that; I know that. It meant nothing. But people seeing the photos will think it was real. This was a mistake and whatever you were trying to do with that fake Maya relationship setup, I shouldn’t have gone along with it.”

My phone rings and I grab it nervously.

“Not now, David,” I mutter under my breath and reject his call.

Ethan looks at me, without saying a word. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on someone’s face before. I don’t even know how to interpret it. Hurt? Shock? Anger? Annoyance?

“I get it,” he says. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake. My mistake. I didn’t know—”

“I’ll get a taxi back or a bus or something,” I say.

He stares, silent.

“If you want to fix this and you’re genuinely sorry, then make sure the photos won’t be posted anywhere,” I say and walk off with no sense of direction. Just away from him.