Eternal Bliss by Christopher Fahy

Author:Christopher Fahy [Fahy, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Open Road Distribution
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sitting at the table in her room, eyes closed, her forehead on her folded hands, Bliss whispered:

“God, dear God, I just can’t picture you. I don’t know what you are or who you are and I never really thought much about you before, but please help me. Please help me get out of here and keep me safe while I’m here, and please help my mother. Let her believe that I’m still alive, let her keep looking for me, please, and please let her find me. And keep me healthy while I’m here, don’t let me get sick. Amen.”

She looked up. Through the window the sea was bright with fresh morning sun. She looked at the metal mirror beside her hand and thought of the lobsterman.

“Bliss?”

The lock clicked loudly; the door came open, and Alan, wearing that robe again, strode in with the breakfast tray. He closed the door and came up to the table, set the tray down, and grinned. “Today’s the big day,” he said. “Have you studied the script?”

“You mean have I memorized it?”

“Yes, more or less. You movie stars do a piece at a time, right? Not like on Broadway.”

“Right.”

“Did you like it?”

The story concerned—guess what?—a female movie star who renounces her “decadent” way of life and goes “back to nature.” Her guide is a shy young man who lives by himself in the woods. “Fascinating,” she said.

“It’s our story,” he said. “It’s the story of you and me.” Face flushed, eyes wide behind his glasses, he said, “We’re going to make real movies, movies with so much truth and strength that Hollywood will turn green!”

She nodded and said, “I need some more toothpaste.”

He frowned. “I don’t get the connection. Green teeth do you mean? You sure must brush a lot, you had a whole tube.”

“I brush in the morning, at night, and after each meal. Five times a day. Most movie stars do, you know.—Have to keep that grin bright.”

With a look of concern he said, “But that’s awful, excessive, you’ll wear the enamel away.”

“Not according to studio experts.”

He sniffed. “The experts who told you to take tetracycline for pimples?”

She sighed. “Can I have more toothpaste?”

He frowned again, then said quietly, “No.”

“No?”

“No. Instead you’ll use salt.”

“I’ll use what?”

“Yes, it’s totally natural, and much less abrasive.”

Quick panic. How could she mark the wall with salt? “But I don’t like the taste of salt.”

“You’ll adapt. Like the girl in the script.”

She’d merely skimmed the foolish thing, and didn’t know what he was talking about. “Don’t confuse her with me,” she said.

“But she is you,” he said. “Can’t you tell? I wrote it with you in mind.”

“I understand that. I just mean there’s a difference between me, the person, and me, the image.”

“Of course, of course, that’s what the story’s all about, reality and illusion. I understand totally, don’t you trust me?”

She laughed, and he looked at her oddly; then nodded and grinned. “Brush your teeth with the salt,” he said, “or you’ll find yourself in a highly precarious state.

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