Part 2: Falling Star
Part 2 of 5. This is the only part not written in the interview\flashback style.
*
The past two or so years had gone quite well and fairly whizzed by. 'Dirty Work' had been a minor hit to start with, but had got huge after it went to DVD. I, Dave Gerrard, bin man, had become an actor. In the main I got secondary roles. Not starring roles or lowly 'second thug' type parts, but characters that helped the plot along. I was usually only on set for three or four weeks, which suited me fine. It meant that I could accompany Karen when she was away filming. We had actually married on the set of her next film. For her part, she had been on set for my films too. I was glad of her support, especially for my first role other than as 'Pops'. Unfortunately Karen's next couple of movies hadn't been terribly successful. I told her that I thought it was because she was being offered and had accepted the wrong roles. She wasn't so sure but accepted my advice in the right manner. There had been rumours that there was to be a sequel to 'Dirty Work', but Karen wanted another hit before she did it. It didn't bother me as it had been her project anyway, and I wasn't desperate to get back into the limelight. However cracks were beginning to appear in our relationship, mainly due to the fact that we were spending more time apart than we'd like. My own insecurities about marrying someone so much younger were not helping matters either.
It was me who caused the cracks to widen however. Karen was away in New Zealand, appearing in another film I thought was wrong for her, while I was at home preparing for a bigger role than I'd played before (except for Pops). It was my birthday and I was bored. Karen had called and we had talked for nearly an hour. That had been fine at the time, but later on in the evening, sitting at our home, nursing a drink, I really missed her. 'I'll go out!' I thought. 'I need some people around me.' It was possibly the most stupid thought I ever had. Some photographer snapped me coming out of a club at two in the morning with a pretty redhead. In truth, I was just sharing a cab with her, but the tabloid headlines screamed something different. When I saw the pictures I knew they were going to hurt Karen. I called her straightaway and told her the truth. I said I knew how it looked and knew I had been careless. She listened and said she believed me in a quiet voice, but I knew I had dented her perception of me. I had a bad feeling that I'd started a chain of events that I wouldn't like.
I was right about that. Her manager, a weaselly man, put out a press release saying Karen was 'shocked and stunned' when I knew she was no such thing, at least not in the way the release implied. I had hurt her though, and this man was trying to stir things up, but I left things alone.
In preparation for my upcoming role I was doing some driving again, a delivery van this time. During this time I was away from home and hadn't looked at a newspaper for three days. I was on my way back when Karen called me. I was glad to hear her voice again. She had called to say sorry she said. 'For the stunned press release?' I asked. 'No, for the pictures that are about to be published.' She said, adding that it had been her manager's idea again. Puzzled by what she meant I couldn't really say much. I got home and put the news on. There was Karen walking out of a club with a very hunky looking man. He looked like he kept his brains with his razor, and didn't use either of them very often. And he was so much younger than me. I was really starting to hate that manager. I threw some things into a bag and went to the airport.
***
Karen was genuinely glad to see me. She hugged me and I hugged back, but because I'd been torturing myself throughout the whole flight out I pulled away after a brief moment.
"Just what is going on? I know I screwed up and you have every right to be angry with me, but those photos of me were grabbed on the fly. These...!" I waved a newspaper with her pictures in under her nose. "These are posed! Why Karen? If I hurt you that much, why didn't you just say so. You could have, should have yelled at me when I called you. I would have accepted that, you had every right to. But why tell me you believe me and then do this!"
She looked away and then back, her face now reddening with anger.
"Don't you dare come here and lecture me! It was you who messed things up, and...and you've been holding my career back."
"How the hell have I done that? It was you and that idiot manager that picked your roles. I never once said 'take that one'. He's been poisoning you against me for months now."
"I can't talk to you like this, meet me later when you've cooled off, and we'll sort it out."
"Got another hunk lined up that you have to put off first have you?" I sneered. I knew I had lost control but I couldn't stop. All my anxieties were bursting forth and I was saying ridiculous things, things meant to hurt her. She stepped up to me and slapped my face hard. In my anger I started to lift my hand until I realised what I was doing. My shoulders slumped, my hand dropped down to my side. "I'm sorry Karen, I'll go. I never meant for this to happen, and I never want to hurt you again, so I'll go and leave you alone." I turned and went towards the door. As I reached it, her manager came in.
"What's happening? I heard raised voices?" He saw me. "Oh, it's you, the husband." My anger returned. I saw all my problems personified in him and I swung my fist, landing it square on his jaw.
***
At least I got out of New Zealand before the little git could have me arrested, but I'd probably never be allowed back in. I brooded on the long haul back to London. Now I'd calmed down and looked at my actions I was deeply ashamed. I loved Karen, but I'd shouted at her and accused her of so many stupid things. And I couldn't believe I'd actually begun to raise my hand to her. Before I'd started acting I'd never raised my hand to a woman. (Well, except my sister.) I was so mortified by that one near movement that I almost broke down and cried. Instead I came up with a plan, and it wasn't a plan to try and get Karen back. I'd decided that I didn't deserve her so I would lose myself, take myself out of her life, let her do what she wanted, let her find someone who did deserve her.
***
Now it was eighteen months after the plane had landed in London. I had gone back to our home and packed some clothes and one or two other bits and pieces and left. Although I knew she wouldn't be back for three weeks I left her a long letter, apologising for messing up her life, telling her I'd always love her but I couldn't bear to see her hurt anymore so I was doing the only thing I could and getting the hell out of her life and then apologising again. Then I'd gone to the location site for the film I was supposed to be in. After three days I found I couldn't concentrate on whatever it was I was supposed to be doing and my enthusiasm was non-existent. I was on my way to find the director to tell him I quit when I met him coming to tell me I was fired. So ended my film career. I went back to the one thing I knew I was good at, waste collection.
I had to work as an agency driver of course. There were no full time jobs going anymore. I didn't mind though, I was still getting royalty checks for the films I had done and the book of photographs I had put together from 'Dirty Work'. They were paid into several accounts, one for each role I'd played. It was a game Karen and I had started; an account for each film we'd been in. Of course the account for 'Dirty Work' was the biggest, because both of us paid into that one. It was also the only one I never touched, figuring that was 'our' money not mine. So now I just enjoyed myself doing a job I learned to love again. Basically it was so simple; just empty all the bins that were scheduled for collection for that day. I didn't have to know why, I wasn't told how, I just did it. I went back to my Blog, the Blog that had caught Karen's attention, and just wrote what I felt. It was very cathartic, although I couldn't bring myself to write down why Karen and I had split. I left all the propaganda to her slime ball manager. It was obvious that I was going to be the bad guy, and she was the one hard done by. I was painted as some sort of gold digger, only out for her money, when in truth I left our house with less than I had arrived with. I was surprised that she had never filed for divorce, or if she had, I had never been informed. It was surprising because whenever she appeared in public there was another gorgeous hunk hanging on her arm, most of them with the vapid expression of a goldfish, and probably the brains as well. I learned to stay away from those pictures, just as I learned to live without Karen again. My new workmates soon tired of teasing me about my short-lived former life and learnt not to say anything bad about Karen too. 'She is still my wife' I would explain, bouncing their heads off the nearest hard surface.
I suppose I was disappointed that she hadn't come looking for me. It was almost as if I wasn't worth divorcing, I could just as easily be ignored. I was saddened by her attitude though. I knew she was more grown up than her years suggested in many ways, but she was still a child in others, especially when it came to relationships. I had seen that she could be easily led and had tried hard not to impose my views onto her. Apparently her manager had had different ideas.
***
