the man in the picture

Lies don't end relationships the truth does.
― Shannon L. Alder

I was vain in my youth—never once experienced rejection. Oh, I might have tasted women’s bitter hatred—but never once knew their indifference.

When I became an actor, my pride made me insufferable—and then, one day, by a miracle, my eyes were opened.

Ashamed, I saw the poverty of my spirit and slowly began to change.

A man has to like who he is, in order to live with himself.

Disgusted by my shallowness, I tried to reform my life, but unfortunately, it was too late.

I failed in the only real sense men fail— I lost the one I really meant to keep.

“Phillip, are you ready? Your limo’s waiting.”

Victoria Starling was pacing impatiently in my foyer. Victoria and I are thought by the media to be headed for marriage, but even she doesn’t realize I still love my wife.

“I’m all set,” I smile as I descend the stairs.

“You look smashing, darling—the red carpet’s waiting.”

I was off to Toronto for TIFF—the Toronto International Film Festival—and was not looking forward to the experience.

“You go and knock them dead, but hurry back afterwards—Hugh’s talked me into throwing your birthday party here.”

Hugh is my publicist and is pushing me to marry Victoria for all the same reasons he persuaded me to seduce Sara Lissome and con her into being my wife.

Ironically, I did fall in love with Sara, just when she discovered my ruse and fled without allowing me to explain.

I have no intention of repeating the same error with Victoria and besides, I’m still holding out hope Sara and I may reconcile—there’s only one problem—she detests the very sight of me.

Still, hope springs eternal in the human breast.

I fly into Toronto and stay at the Park Hyatt Hotel in the fashionable Yorkville district. I chose the Hotel for its rooftop terrace overlooking the university campus and the Toronto skyline—and also for sentimental reasons because it’s where Sara and I first met.

That night I sit out on the terrace with a glass of Pinot Noire and stare nostalgically at the city below.

The moon is a yellow canoe riding in a cloudy bay and the night breeze is warm and gentle.

“Phillip—is that you?”

I look up to see Sara’s lovely face. My heart begins to race—I can hear my pulse in my ears.

“Sara—what a pleasant surprise.”

She eyes me warily.

“You look lovely,” I smile, falling into default and my old charm, “Will you join me for a drink?”

She wavers, just long enough for me to regret being stupid and impulsive.

She seems to be mentally calculating and measuring the odds, but finally, gives in, nods and sits opposite me. I signal the waiter and order a Shiraz.

“You remember,” she smiles wistfully.

“I never forgot,” I say solemnly. “I wanted to explain, but never got the chance.”

She shakes her head, “I was young and foolish too, Phillip—I’m past that now—I’m fine.”

Her dark eyes still hold sway over me—I feel grieved and need to let her know.

“Are you fine? I’m not. I’m miserable to tell you the truth.”

She looks off in the distance as if calling up the past. “Really? I heard you were planning to get married.”

“That’s the line Hugh’s feeding the media.”

“Oh, I see.” He voice is just a whisper. “Well, he’s very good with lines.”

Her words crush me. I know she means them for me.

“Okay, our relationship started out as a publicity ploy, but somewhere along the line, I fell in love with you, and I’ve never stopped.”

Her brow furrows and her dark eyes flash.

“You say you never stopped—well, you did long enough to date Victoria Starling and cause a few scandals along the way.”

I feel helpless. I should never have listened to Hugh Carlisle.

“I’ve changed Sara. Everything you’ve read about me in the papers is just studio propaganda—hell, I don’t even date. Victoria is just for publicity—there’s nothing between us.”

“I wish I could believe that,” she says softly, and then sighs, “but it doesn’t matter. You really hurt me, Phillip.”

I nod and stare down at the table. “I’m ashamed, Sara. I’m not the same man any more.”

She stands, a look of profound sadness on her face.

“You may have changed, Phillip, but so have I. I’m not the same woman.”

She turns and walks away.

As I watch her departing, I feet I’ve lost her a second time.

I make up my mind then and there to quit the studio and strike out on my own.

Grief has one benefit—it jerks the slack out of you and teaches you what is real.

I know. I watched the most important person in my life just walk out the door.

To be continued

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