Love's Curtain Call

I took a deep breath, to help steady my nerves, before I took a step towards him to take the phone. He smiled again and handed it to me. His comforting smile only made me all the more nervous, though. I watched him carefully, wondering what on earth Samantha could want with me.

"Hello?" I said uneasily into the mouthpiece, turning away from Andrew slightly.

"Hello, Kristen," she replied. Her voice hit me like a bullet, bringing with it a strange sense of deja vu. It brought old memories back to the surface of my mind. More than anything, though, I hated hearing it. I felt the urge to rip the phone from my ear and throw it to Andrew, who stood a few steps away from me, looking at the floor, probably pretending not to be listening in.

"So, I hear you're doing pretty well as the co-leading role in the play," she mused. But there was a slight bitter edge to her voice which I didn't like.

"Yes, thank you," I replied quietly. "Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about?" I asked, more of a prompt than anything. I wanted to be off the phone from her immediately. Too many memories were brought back to me just listening to her - the fire at the university, seeing Ville and her together, sitting on the stage, laughing together. It didn't matter that she wasn't the one he'd once loved - the memories were almost too much for me to take.

"Well, actually, there was. . ." she paused. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened. . .with Mr. Valo."

I gulped. I could feel my palms start to sweat; blood was rushing into my cheeks. But then a thought flashed across my mind: was it possible she'd seen him since he'd left New York..?

"I don't know what you mean," I lied feebly.

She laughed a little. "Kristen, everyone knows. It was only a matter of time before I found out. And I know what you did." It sounded as if she was actually trying to threaten me. . .

"Well, as you said. . .everyone knows."

She laughed again. "Andrew doesn't. The cast doesn't. In fact I think I'm the only one. . ."

"Why are you doing this? Surely you know what happened to us?" I asked, feeling my heart ache just thinking about it.

"Yes, of course I know," she snapped, before she calmed herself again. "He was fired because of you. I haven't been able to contact him in over a year!"

"He's been gone for longer than a year," I mumbled quietly.

"I know," was all she replied.

"You mean. . .you spoke to him while he was in Finland?" My heart stopped.

". . .yes. It was hard getting hold of his number, but I managed," she sounded almost smug down the phone.

"W-w-what?" I stuttered. "What did. . .what did you talk to him about? When was this?" I asked desperately.

"I don't mean to be rude, but it's really none of your business," she said bleakly.

I could feel the tears rising in my eyes. "You stay away from him," I commanded - the tough words died in my dry throat.

"Why? It's not as if you'll ever see him again. . ."

This sent me off the edge. I couldn't blink away the tears anymore - there were too many.

"You weren't the one who was in love with him," I whispered through gritted teeth, as my surroundings blurred out all around me. I was aware of how much Andrew was listening in, but it was too late to pretend me and Samantha were on good terms with each other.

"You're too young to know what love is," she said quietly, gravely.

Before she said another word, I stabbed at the hang-up button with my thumb. I took the phone away from my ear and held it out in front of me, staring at it in horror as if I was delusional.

Andrew came up to me and touched my shoulder. I was in tears.

"What. . .what happened?" he asked quietly.

I slowly and shakily passed him the phone. He took it and slipped it into a pocket with his free hand.

"I can't do the play," I whispered through the tears.

"What?" he asked, shocked.

"I can't do it. . ." I whimpered, trying to shake him off. But he placed his other hand quickly on my other shoulder, stopping me from making an escape.

"Kristen, what are you talking about?" he asked urgently.

"Samantha. . ." I muttered. "I hate her."