Method

Lucas presses his lips together, his voice coming out hoarse when he speaks. “I don’t know if it’s worth the cost.” Lucas falters briefly, and I can hear an audible sob in the crowd that I know belongs to Amanda. Lucas gathers himself and lifts his chin. “You know this life can take a toll, perception can be our nemesis, and the message we send is the most significant part of what we do. I can only hope I played well and hope you remember me as part of your bigger picture because legacy…that’s the hardest gig of all.”

“I want to thank my brother, Lucas, for trying to rescue me from myself. I know how hard you try.” Lucas falters again, and the crowd applauds for him as he finally breaks on stage for the world to see. It lasts for endless seconds as they give Lucas the breathing room he needs, the room he deserves, and the encouragement to continue. When the clapping dies down, he focuses on Amanda. “And for the woman who decided to love me in spite of the bastard I am, I hope this helps you understand your sacrifice, and if it doesn’t, I’m sorry, and I hope I showed you that you were always worth more.”

The camera cuts to Amanda as she sobs in her hands.

Lucas folds the paper and stuffs it into his pocket. “Blake, thank you, brother, for allowing me to be a part of your legacy,” he says, raising the statue toward the room. A single tear streaks down his cheek as he addresses the camera, the applause erupting to a deafening level. “And for my legacy, my baby boy, Ronin Blake Walker. For my daughter, who I can’t wait to meet, and for my beautiful wife, Mila,” he says, looking straight at me, “I’m coming home, Dame. This time for good.”

Everyone rises to their feet, the camera cuts to several actors shedding tears before the show fades to commercial.

If this were a scene from a movie script, he would be walking through the door at this moment so I can throw my arms around him. But that’s not what happens. He has a slew of press to take care of, the sale of our house to close on, another award to accept before he lets his star dim to make room for others. His flights home get delayed due to weather. He calls me twice to tell me he loves me, but he is too busy to talk, tying up more loose ends so we can continue the new path we’ve chosen. Life isn’t anything like the movies, and as it turns out, I don’t want it to be. After a hundred and forty minutes or so the story ends, and Lucas and I have a lot more story to live out. We have grand plans for this life we’ve made together that have nothing to do with a typical Hollywood ending.

Two weeks after the Oscars, my husband walks through our front door looking more worn than I’d ever seen him. With a weary smile, he approaches quietly and takes his sleeping son in his arms, cradling him before taking my lips in a promising kiss, his tongue thrusting slowly, deeply to show the extent of how much he missed me. Dazed when he pulls away, I get lost in his soul-filled depths, and whisper two words I’ve been dying to utter since we began the new leg of our journey together. “Welcome home.”

THE END