The Truth

The Truth
 
 
Two days had passed since my last conversation with Adam. Two days; that’s forty eight hours of my mind’s constant regurgitation. My head felt fifty pounds heavier with the gut retching weight of the devastating words Adam had planted into it.
The alarm clock buzzed, drilling the sound waves into my already damaged brain cells. I groaned and hit the button on the clock with excessive force, knocking it off the bed side table. I placed my pillow over my face, pressing hard, trying to silence the jack hammering; I didn’t win.
I sighed and turned to my side, placing the pillow back under my head. The glare from the rising sun peeped through an opening of the deep purple drapes that decorated my window, and beamed brilliant gold on my arm. The slightly warm feeling was comforting. It was the only thing that was constant. The only thing I could depend on these days, and looking at my curtains again, I realised that I was going to be late; Violet would be here in a few minutes to pick me up. She insisted that I had to be on set with her today, but wouldn’t give a reason when I asked why. I sighed again and rolled out of bed after another sleepless night.
 
The morning had passed without much awareness on my behalf. Violet was in an anxious, talk only when necessary mood; she didn’t want anything to distract her from her character. Today she was Princess Aruba, protector and ruler of Saurus; Land of the Winged-Elves. And it turns out she was going to be occupied the entire morning with her character’s transformation; this made me very happy.
The four hour long process included super glued elf ears, an obscene amount of white make-up and long amber locks that fell past her hips.
It had worked out perfectly; I wasn’t in the mood for conversation and she couldn’t talk in fear of disrupting the make-up artists from their intricate work. There were a few glances and smiles in between though and I had to make sure that my happy go lucky mask didn’t fall off.
After the make-up procedure, which was mind numbingly monotonous beyond the first hour, Violet’s face looked like porcelain. Her eyelids were painted with a soft green that complimented her hazel irises beautifully, her cheekbones, a delicate rose pink and a subtle strawberry adorned her lips. Tiny flecks of silver illuminated her skin from head to toe; she was iridescent.
As Violet took in my wordless expression, she cried “Perfect!” in a bubbly tone and jumped off her chair and skipped, like a little elf, to costume fitting.
We made our way out of the trailer and into a building that looked like a warehouse. I had never been in here before. It was beyond huge inside and warm air circulated making my skin instantly moist. We entered an enormous sliding door that contained hundreds of costumes. My eyes widened at the sight of the rainbow of pastels and fluorescents, deep reds and bright oranges, canary yellows and hot pinks. It reminded me of Carnival back home.
Voices and high pitched laughter bounced off the walls, and as we turned left, we were faced with four middle aged women. They were very flamboyant; their clothes were shiny like multi-coloured tin foil and their faces were painted with an obscene amount of make-up.
Two of them wore six inch black stilettos, with fuchsia tight woven fish net stockings that covered their surprisingly muscular legs. They both wore tight fitted spandex mini dresses in fluorescent yellow and green and they were clearly wearing wigs as their black and red hair were twisted and not symmetrical with their heads; they both held a cigarette in their hands.
The other two were as brightly dressed, but they were a lot less ostentatious. One of them wore red Capri pants, a horizontally striped yellow and red v-neck top and silver stilettos, while the other wore a golden blonde wig with a shiny gold sequent mini dress and gold pumps. They sat in tall chairs and gossiped quietly with each other; their mouths moved like animated chipmunks, both of them also smoking like rampant chimneys.
As we approached them, I noticed that their faces were hard, almost man-ish and their shoulders were strangely broad, like they were hard core gym enthusiasts. Then, insight slapped me in the head; they weren’t women, they were ridiculously-beautiful dressed men. They were drag queens!
   “Hey girls,” Violet’s tone confirmed my intuition. She spoke to them like she had just entered a drag queen symposium.
   “Violet!” said the queen in the gold dress as she jumped off her stool and herded toward Violet.
   “My darling,” said the spandex twins; their arms wide ready to bombard Violet with hugs.
   “Hi honey. Give me some sugar,” said the tallest, less flashy of the four, who already had her hands on each on Violet’s arms as she gave her an air kiss at the side of her cheek, then the other, paused and repeated the same weird notion again. The others weren’t far behind as a rush of hugs and more air kisses came hurdling one after the other.
   “And who is this?” said the one in the glossy blonde wig. I was suddenly very uncomfortable and my hands instantly went to my side like I was about to be scrutinised by a sergeant; a sergeant dressed for painting the town red. Snap! You know it girl, uh huh
Violet introduced me and my eyes widened as they flocked after me like four Arana tangs and I was the only banana.
 
After the outlandish scene with the queens, the mood had turned from part-ay to business-like. The four women started like wild chipmunks again as they fitted Violet in her costume. I had only seen the President’s wife a few times on TV, and I thought she was beautiful, but these women worshiped her. From her turn of the century outfits, her hair down to her shoes, they admired her like a queen, no pun intended; she was the subject of the hour.
Violet’s costume was very extravagant; A sparkly white mini kerchief cut dress with silver accents, was pushed through her outstretched hands and stuck with a line of Velcro running down the spine of her back. Then, two long yet surprisingly light, silver and white wings, that were each the length of her body, were strapped onto her shoulders like a backpack.
 “Well what do you think?” Violet turned to face me. Her white face sparkled with tiny flints of silver dust; her cheeks were a pale blush and strawberry coloured her lips. The strapless dress cut diagonally across her thigh and form-fitted her body which accented all her curves in the right way; she was an angel; no she was a hot, yet classy elf. I smiled and this time it wasn’t false.
  “You’re an outstandingly beautiful elf Violet,” I said making her cheeks turn from pale blush to cherry red. “I guess this was the reason you were so persistent on my presence.”
   “Yeah, I knew you’d be honest,” she said with innocent eyes. At the same time a petite intern with short black hair that stuck out in every direction stormed into the room and tapped fervently on Violet’s shoulder. She turned sharply and her right wing lashed against my body and tickled my face with it’s forest of feathers.
   “Miss Violet, Paul is waiting. He’s ready to take the pictures,” she said huffing, then bending and holding on to her knees to catch her breath.
   “Oh okay,” I heard Violet say, then she turned sharply again causing a stray feather to stick itself to the Chap Stick that coated my lips. “I have to go, but I’ll meet you in the lunchroom in an hour,”
   “Okay,” I replied trying to give wind to the feather without having to manually remove it. It was fun in an agitating sort of way. Then with my crossed eyes, I saw two fingers: Violet picked the feather off my lower lip and flicked it away; I smiled sheepishly.
   “Are you going to be okay or will I need a piece of your clothing so the hunting dogs could trace your scent.”
   “I’ll be fine,” I rolled my eyes impatiently and caught a glimpse of the intern who was standing with one hand on her hip, restlessly transferring her weight from one foot to the other. “Why don’t you go before that Paul person sends another frantic intern.”
   She turned and looked at the impatient intern. “Fine. Remember, the commissary, one hour” she said, her index finger rigid, pointing upward as if she was teaching a one year old the number one. I shook my head tiredly and rolled my eyes again. She walked out of the room; the intern following at her heels.
 
 ​An hour and a half later, I sat in the lunchroom; my plate of untouched roasted chicken, rice and vegetables staring back at me. Violet was late but that didn’t concern me anymore Adam’s face clouded my brain, seizing control of it. The temporary distraction of Violet’s costume fitting wore off, making my body heavy with the weight of anguish. I felt like I was drowning, but somehow I didn’t want to be rescued; I wanted to reach the pit and look up at the faint glow till the darkness embraced me.
“Iris… hey daydreamer!” Violet’s distorted voice gurgled through the infinite depths and submerged me from my provisional coma. I closed my eyes and breathed out deeply. “Iris?” She placed her palm over my right hand and gently shook it. The thoughts of Adam vanished as reality, in the form of Violet’s voice, rang clearly in my ear.
I looked up from my untouched food and stared into her hazel eyes. Her smile faded instantly and concern masked her face. I was confused by her expression; could she read my thoughts? Then I felt something warm run down my cheek; crap! Her eyebrows knitted together and she dropped her fork onto her plate of pasta and placed both hands on mine.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. I quickly wiped my face; one stupid tear had betrayed me. I sighed. My eyes stared at the wooden table, burning an invisible hole as my thoughts swirled like a raging tornado. What was I going to tell her? She is my best friend… I can’t lie… I don’t have the strength to…and I don’t want to… she’d understand… she has to.
​“Violet, what I’m about to say…,” I said my eyes still transfixed on the table. “I’ve never told anyone this…” It was harder than I thought; the words choked me fighting not to be said. But my chest felt like a pressure cooker; my heart needed a release. I needed someone to confide in. I looked up at Violet; her eyes were still engrossed with worry. She shook her head fervently trying to decode my solemn expression. I closed my eyes and breathed out deeply, preparing myself to spill. Then with a swollen heart I started. “Violet I’m -”
  “Hey guys, what’s up with the serious faces?”  A wave of anxiety ejected from my nervous system and crashed over me. I gasped and my eyes, still focused on Violet, were wide with horror. What is he doing here? I didn’t know he was going to be on set today. Keeping my head straight, I looked out the corner of my eye; Adam swung his left leg over the bench and sat facing me; we couldn’t be more than six inches from each other. Was he still upset? Did he and Elizabeth reconcile? My heart rate tripled as his familiar sweet masculine scent seeped into my pores and raced though my veins. I looked away from Violet and caught interest in the table again, trying to catch up with my breath that was pulsing, swelling in my chest like I had just completed a decathlon.
  “Hey Adam,” said Violet, her voice casual, all concern diminished.
  “Here’s the book,” he said. I saw a light green paperback flash over my concentrated mass of table. His voice was cordial; there wasn’t a hint of distraught. Had his disabled heart healed? Or did she lose her senses and leave her husband for him.  
   “You finally remembered to bring it,” said Violet.
   “You’ll really enjoy it,” he continued. I could hear Violet flipping through the pages of the book.
My hand gripped the edge of the table as the seconds of silence passed. I knew he was going to say something to me soon; I could feel the heat of his eyes on my face. Then I heard a buzzing; a buzzing that allowed me a few seconds, maybe minutes to compose myself. He answered his vibrating phone and I opened my mouth simultaneously releasing the tension with every passing breath.
 “… Yeah man…I’ll see you there tonight… yeah I’m at the set right now…” Adam talked quietly like he always did when he’s on the phone. His voice was always smooth and sweet no matter whom he was talking to; that was weird but nice, no one got special treatment.
As my heart slowed to its normal rhythm, I looked at Violet; her eyes were bright, already fixed on mine, watching me with anticipation. My eyebrows contracted and she swiftly looked at Adam and back to me. She’d figured it out; of course… she’s Violet.
A smile raised her cheeks and she winked in Adam’s direction making blood colour my face. Then Adam’s words from our last conversation cursed me, I love her, and the blood withdrew. My throat burned as the poison from his words stung my heart again. I focused on Violet’s face again and shook my head slowly, careful not to draw Adam’s attention. My eyes dropped from the confusion that swept her face and found my hands resting gingerly on my lap. The tears stung at my eyes and I had to concentrate very hard to fight the flow. I gazed out the window behind Violet; it wasn’t much of a view, just the east parking lot scattered with ridiculously expensive executive and highly paid movie producers and actors vehicles.
​Violet snapped her fingers in front my face that startled me and I was forced to look at her. Adam’s voice was still soft as he continued chatting, he didn’t detect anything; clueless as usual. My head was throbbing now; I didn’t want to think anymore; I wanted to be free of thoughts, all thoughts. But Violet wanted answers it was written in her eyes. I straightened from my slouched position, placed my elbows on the table and folded my arms in front of me. I exhaled deeply and winced looking out the corner of my eye at Adam then back at Violet. Hopefully she got the sign that we can’t talk here and I nodded when her eyes narrowed; she’ll want details…soon.
​Adam snapped his phone shut making both of us flinch from our intense non-verbal conversation.
 “Hey,” he said and tugged on my ponytail forcing me to look at him. My pores tingled, sending shivers all the way to my toes.
His hair was shorter; the dirty blonde streaks that recklessly draped his forehead were gone, all cut off and replaced with boyish auburn tousled locks. It took my breath away to see his face even more clearly now. The light blue t-shirt complemented his skin tone really well and highlighted the grey undertone in his emerald eyes. He really fit into his job title today; a movie star.
  “Hey,” I said softly, smiling uncontrollably feeling like a school girl talking to her crush for the first time; I rolled my eyes at my hyper emotions. “You cut your hair.”
I looked at his ​short do, taking my eyes off the dimple at the right side of his mouth.
   “Yeah, the constant, brushing the hairs away from my forehead got tiring, so I chopped it off.” I breathed out a soft laugh as I remembered the signature move of his fingers combing through his happy hair; it always had a mind of its own, protruding in every direction and not falling where he wants it to.
​My mind raced with so many more questions. As much as it hurt I stared at his face trying to read his eyes. Was this the same person who, two nights ago, sat on my couch devastated by the fact that his love chose her marriage instead of him.