The Inevitable Fanfiction

Chapter 8- In Honour of Tomorrow

Monday mornings are the worst, honestly. I wake up with a bit of a head cold, an extra reason to hate Mondays. I look myself in the mirror. My eyes are glassy and my face is pale. Yes, I am sick. And it’s already 11a.m.
I pull my feet down the steps of my large house. Travelling and middle-aged men don’t go together it seems. My chef, Lauren hands me my papaya smoothie along with my daily helping of fruits and a mug of coffee. I usually love the bitter taste that comes with black coffee but now I am craving some honey tea to soothe my throat.
“Can I get you something? You sound awfully stuffy,” Nina, my housekeeper says, walking into the room.
“Advil.”
I let my head fall against the cool marble of the breakfast counter until she comes back with Advil and a glass of water. I smile meekly at her.
I decide to watch a little TV, not wanting to go to work just yet. But soon I get bored and switch it off. I recline on the sofa and let my eyes close for a while. I just need a little rest. I’ll leave for the office in a bit.

***
When I wake up the second time I don’t feel much better and I look quickly at my watch. It’s now 4p.m. Bloody hell; I missed a whole day’s worth of working. As I sit up I realise there is a blanket put over my legs, one I didn’t get for myself.
I walk to the kitchen looking for something I can eat and on the counter I spot a container with some soup inside. On the lid there is a note written on notepad paper and neatly stuck on.
‘Nina told Lisa who told Kylie who told Marina that you were sick. Our people seem to be closer than we are right now. 
Anyway, soup should do you good – my grandmother’s recipe. Feel better.’
It isn’t signed but the writing is Paula’s. The printed flourishes on the notepad paper is a sure confirmation of that. I know it her way of a truce and I can’t help but smile at her kindness. And to think I used to believe she was truly patronising on the inside. There’s a laugh riot. She had won me over with her sweetness in the second season. She still has me won over.
I can imagine her coming into my house, Nina letting her in and she placing the soup in my kitchen. Maybe she thought I would be cold and got me my pull blanket. Maybe she kissed my head when I was unaware. I touch my face, with a small smile, hoping it is what happened. Oh, hell, I’m doing it again aren’t I? I’m being a softhearted sucker. I could almost laugh at myself.
I heat up the soup and eat it quietly in my dining room. The house suddenly feels so big and lonely. I feel alone; not something I usually experience. Most of the time I am more than happy to be by myself and being miserable is one of my favourite things. I can be a bitter person. But I guess being sick also means wanting to be given attention.
I mull over whether or not I should call Paula to thank her. Maybe I had better just text her.
‘Thank you.’ I type simply and hit send.
A few minutes later my phone beeps and Paula’s message comes through.
‘Ur welcome.’
***
I enter the studio an hour before the show simply because I don’t feel like rushing right before it starts. I want to take my time today and my trailer is comfortable enough to lie on the couch for a while. Again though, tiredness takes over and I fall into a half sleep state.
“Show time in two minutes!” Someone calls from the door of my trailer. I’ve never needed a call before; I really must be ill. I get up groggily and flick a comb through my hair before walking to the stage.
I hate being sick.
“Dawg, you look like shit!” Randy calls as I enter the backstage area. Paula and Kara are already there too and Paula turns to me curiously. Her eyes widen when she takes a good look at me. Do I really look that bad?
“Thanks, Jackson. Means a lot,” I reply and end with a loud sneeze. “Excuse me.”
“Bless you,” Paula says sweetly. And Kara repeats it.
“Thank-you.” I say seriously, for Paula’s ears only.
I mean for blessing me, and for yesterday. She knows.
For no matter how much this woman doesn’t know what she wants from me and no matter how much she bewilders me, I know she cares. And for that, I’m thankful to have her in my life.
We get our mark and we join hands loosely. I stare down at how our fingers lace without a second’s thought. How cliché.
I scoff inwardly.
Throughout the whole show, Paula is overly generous in her compassion towards me. If I say something not so nice to a contestant she doesn’t protest and even when I don’t poke or prod her like I would before she got engaged, she tries to start some banter. I try not to play along, putting on my strong front but I can’t help laughing at her. She is just so funny and weird and even cute.
After the show though, when she is not near me, I can think straight again and I realise I’ve lost the game once more. I lose every round nowadays because I cannot resist her. **** it. I hide my face under one hand for a moment as I walk to my trailer.
“Cowell, you alright?” Ryan calls from behind me. I turn to him and nod. “Buddy you need some sleep. You’re a mess!” He says but I know there’s no malice in his words. Instead he leans in and hugs me. I pat his back and wordlessly continue down the corridor. “Feel better!” He yells. I nod again but make no attempt to look back.
In my trailer, I pick up my phone, lighter and cigarettes. Speaking of which, I could use one right now. I take one out of the box and light it. I don’t like smoking inside so I go out into the night and sit on the steps leading to my trailer.
It is quiet for a few minutes and I like the smell of the fresh air mixed with the soothing feel of my cigs. I have cut down a lot in two years but right now I have no will power. I hear some clacking of heels against the group and then see a figure in the distance, a woman for sure, and she is coming in this direction. It could be either Kara or Paula. Any other time, I would have been sure it’d be Paula but now there’s an even chance.
“Simon?” She asks. It is Paula.
“Hello.” I smile to myself as she sits down next to me.
“Why aren’t you heading home?” She asks.
“I feel too ill to drive,” I tell her honestly and exhale the smoke away from her. I take one last drag of it before stubbing it into the ground and crushing cigarette with the heel of my shoe.
“I can give you a ride?” She offers, softly. I know she is finding it hard to look me in the eyes after what happened. And I don’t blame her. But at least we’re being civil today.
“No, no, don’t trouble yourself. You go on home. I’ll leave when I feel a little better.” I try to be convincing with a smile but she looks away the moment our eyes meet and shakes her head.
“Come on. Get your driver to pick up your car later.” She stands up and pulls at my hand with both of hers.
It is far too much of an effort to argue right now so I stand up and follow her to the car. We sit down and she turns the key in the ignition. The engine purrs and she backs out of the car park smoothly. Usually I’d tease her about her driving but my jaw is too tired to move. Instead I lean back, and tilt my head so I can watch her. Luckily for us, most people have left and that means no paparazzi.
“Put on your seatbelt,” Paula says and I realise she has hers strapped on already. I make no attempt to do so however. “Simon,” She says gently when we reach a red light. I look up at her once before shutting my eyes. The next thing that registers in my brain is there is a soft weight against my chest. I reopen my eyes to see Paula reaching to the other side of me and pulling the seatbelt down. She clicks it in the holder before getting back into her own seat, without a word.
After a few minutes Paula switches on the music and I hear the first strains of the Jackson 5. She leaves the volume on low and it doesn’t affect my oncoming headache. Again we stop and I have no choice but to lift my eyelids to see if we’ve reached our destination. It does seem too soon, and I’m correct – we are barely half way there but have stopped at another traffic light.
My eyes close once more and I feel quite peaceful until I feel something I don’t recognise for a second. It turns out to be Paula’s fingers touching my forehead. She brushes my temple, then my cheek and then presses the back of her fingers against my neck. She is checking if I have a fever, probably.
“Simon, you’re warm,” She tells me and I grunt as a response. I am not trying to be rude, but I just don’t have the energy to do anything but sit there and relish Paula’s presence beside me.
When she stops the car for the third time it is because we’ve reached my home. In the driveway, she gets out of the car and walks to my side but I open the door first, unbuckle my seatbelt and stand up. She takes my arm, supporting me the best she can in her ‘stilts’. I try not to put too much pressure on her.
I slide the key in the door and inside the house she follows me into the master bedroom. Without much thought, I strip off my shirt and belt before stepping out of my jeans. Paula turns away, flushed and the ego inside my cloudy, tired head grins. Left only in my boxers I feel a little cold but once I get under the blankets, I’ll be alright.
Paula disappears in the bathroom for a moment, coming back with a glass of water and some Tylenol. The bed shifts as she sits next to me and I sit up begrudgingly.
“Take this,” She says and I pop the pills in my mouth, before chugging the water down. Feeling a little better, I look up at her and smile.
“Thank-you again, Paula.” I stare deep into her eyes and get lost in the kindness in them. The depth in the dark brown, the seriousness that comes with worrying and dare I say it, that same glint Sinitta has every time she looks at me, are all there staring back at me. The urge to touch her is unbearable. It’s not that same kind of touching that I felt longing for with my past girlfriends. Mostly, it was touching them in bed I liked most. But now I just want to touch her face, play with locks of her hair, tweak her nose. It’s rather embarrassing really, at how she affects me.
“I wanted to apologise,” I say and then backtrack. I wanted to apologise? Really?
“For what?” Paula asks.
“At the Grammys…” I look down, ashamed before meeting her eyes again. “I wasn’t pursuing Jackie, by any means.” I bite my lip. I don’t know if I’m well enough to get into another argument. Okay, Simon, keep your tone calm. No fighting this time.
“So what was that then?” She asks, though she already knows. Paula likes things spelt out, I have learnt from experience. She likes the obvious far more than reading between the lines.
“I wanted to make you jealous,” I admit, bashfully.
“Simon,” She sighs. She gives a glance at my lips, probably remembering what happened that night and in turn, I look down at her soft, full ones. Her hand comes up to my shoulder and slides downward so it rests on my bare chest, above my heart. I place my own hand over hers. “You succeeded,” She tells me, after what seems to be an age. My tired eyes light up.
“Yeah?” I grin, feeling much better than I did two minutes ago. She nods sadly and again, the feeling is lost. “This isn’t going to work is it?” I ask, watching her dejected face. “Us, I mean. It’s not going to happen, right?”
“I….” She pauses. “I don’t think it will… It might have last year, but things have changed since then.” She seems disappointed.
“I thought we were getting somewhere, Paula… Where did we go wrong?” For a fraction of a second, my vision turns blurry. I blink back the tears, appalled at myself. I’m crying?
She touches the corner of my eye, probably just as surprised as I am.
“I just didn’t know what you wanted, Simon. I didn’t know if it was just a game to you.” She cuts her eyes from mine. “You only said something once I decided to move on.”
“Do you mean otherwise, if we had talked about this, right now we could have been making passionate love?” I joke barely. She opens her mouth to answer but my fingers land on her lips. “I don’t want to know the answer, actually. I don’t want to know,” I decide and release my fingers.
Perhaps I just know too well that she would have been mine. She would have been everything I wanted and everything I had. Fate is not on my side, it would seem. But she looks miserable, so who’s side is fate on? Maybe its purpose is to make everyone suffer. Maybe I’m being overdramatic again. I do not have to be religious to know there is a God and that God wants what is best for us all. Maybe we’re all in this world for a reason, spinning in organised chaos, only a mind greater than any human will ever know.
“I’m sorry, Simon. I don’t know what to say other than I’m so sorry,” Her eyes fill with tears but she doesn’t let them fall. I don’t know how to reply, so I stay silent, with her hand still against my bare skin and her eyes still searching the depths of my own. Searching for what? I suppose I will never know. “I think I should go,” She says but I tighten the hand over my heart, preventing her from leaving.
“Answer me one question,” I hear myself say. She waits expectantly. “Are you in love with me?” I hold her face with my free hand and draw her close. I won’t kiss her this time – the guilt from last time is probably eating her inside out already.
“You know I adore you,” She says diplomatically. But that isn’t what I am looking for.
“Are you in love with me, Paula?”
I hold her chin and her eyes. I will hold them until I get my answer. “Don’t make me answer that, Simon, please,” She pleads. Her eyes squeeze tightly shut.
“Paula,” I say, as if it were a statement by itself.
“Simon,” is her response.
“You do all this for me, take care of me. You stare at me, like there is something so fascinating. And you take my side over others always. I can’t help but wonder...”
“If I say yes - ” Now her voice is thick with emotion.“Then me being with Jeremy is pointless.” She stops.
“And if you say no?” I push. Her eyes reopen and meet mine with full force. I can feel her pain and remorse just looking at her.
“Then,” She whispers, secretive as ever. “Then, I’d be lying.”
And for that one moment, everything in the world is right. For that one instant, my heart soars.
Paula’s hands snake up my chest and rest on my neck, holding my face close to hers. At this present moment, I am sure she would kiss me, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop her. I’m not sure I want to.
Maybe now, though, I can move on. I have closure, don’t I? I know the truth. Maybe that will be enough for me to move on. But now I wonder if it was the truth I wanted at all; and not the happy ending. Who knew honesty could be so twisted?
“But it doesn’t change anything,” Paula finishes. I nod, knowing it is the truth. She is with Jeremy and I know she does love him, in spite of the situation.
“I know,” I tell her, sighing.
“I want us to stay friends, Simon. I meant what I said; I don’t want to lose you.”
“It’d be hard for the both of us,” I remind her.
“Yes, it will be,” She agrees. “But it would be worth it.”
“It would be so much easier if I could find someone else. Maybe then we could both move on… Someone like…” I pause. “Sinitta.” I whisper.
Did I really just utter the name I think I did? Where the hell did that come from?
“Sinitta?” Paula practically squeaks. My eyes daze for a moment as I get lost in thought. Maybe Sinitta is exactly what I need. My love for her may be platonic, but she needs a companion, and I presently am companionless. She needs someone for her kids – someone they accept – and while I am not exactly father material, it isn’t like we’re getting married right? And most importantly, she won’t reject me. This might be a little bit about self-worth but it pleases me that at least Sinitta would not turn me down.
“Yeah,” I reply vaguely, still not quite present in the room.
Flashes go through my mind of me and Maggie, me and Zac, me and Sinitta when we were together – sort of – such a long time ago. I try and think of her in that way; I try to see her as beautiful. It’s hard because she has aged for one, much quicker than either Jackie or Paula, but she has had some work done lately and should the stress lines from between her eyebrows fade, perhaps she would be pretty again.
God, that is vain of me. A better factor would be if we’d work out – and I think we could.
“Simon, she- She has kids you know?” She stutters, like she cannot believe her ears.
“Yeah,” I repeat but this time, come back from my faraway land. My pupils focus on her shocked expression. Suddenly, I feel violently ill again, at just the thought of it.
I can’t be a father! I’m a fifty-year old man for God’s sake. I’m too old to be a dad of two toddlers, no matter how lovable. And they don’t need to lose another father. I couldn’t do that to them if their mum and I didn’t work out.
“You’d be willing to be a father?” Tears well in her eyes, as if she has suddenly regretted everything that has been said in this conversation. No, more than that even – she appears to want to take back every decision she’s made in this past month in regards to me.
“Paula, honestly- I have no idea what I’m willing to do right now,” I admit.
“So what, you’re going to be with her?”
I have no bloody idea. She has got to stop questioning me in paragraphs.
“That is what she wants. And maybe that’s what I need. This could be better in the long run for all of us.” I smile meekly. She nods slowly, clearly disbelieving and stunned. She stays silent, pulling away from me and fidgeting with the blanket. “It’s late, darling,” I start, trying to ease the conversation out. “Thank-you for everything. Do you want my driver to send you home?”
“No, no…. I have my car,” She protests, but barely.
“I insist. He can drive your car back and take a cab. It’s part of his job.” She shakes her head slowly, this time ‘yes’.
“Okay. Good night, Simon.” She stands and looks down at me. I take her hands in mine and pull her back for a moment, just to kiss the side of her face – the corner of her eye.
Just when I think she is about to pull away, she embraces me tightly, arms clasped firmly around my torso. I hold her, allowing her to hide under my arms. She presses her face against mine. “This is hard,” she murmurs in a heartbreaking tone. I couldn’t agree more.
I feel like I am holding onto my life for one last time, like I am taking the last breath of oxygen I will ever get. It is senseless to think so, of course, because I will live many years after this, make many more business deals, earn loads more money, find someone new and hopefully be happy. I’d have no reason not to. But how often has the heart agreed with the mind, after all? They seem to be opposites, living in one habitat, confusing its environment and never truly balancing the other out the way opposites should.
“Goodbye,” She states, only confirming my feeling of an ending. The ending.
“See you tomorrow,” I reply, because I will. I will see her for many tomorrows.
What’s the lyric? Oh yeah, tomorrow, tomorrow, you’re always a day away…