Lost In Pacific Time

Amber was gay. I didn’t know how I felt about this. It’s like thinking one thing for your entire life and then being told that you were wrong. Actually this was like when I took Amber to a school production of The Little Mermaid and when the musical ended she asked me which one was my favorite character. I told her Sebastian the Lobster was mine, I also told her that the Disney version was my favorite movie as a kid, something I had never told anyone else. Amber then informed me that Sebastian was a hermit crab not a lobster and that completely blew my mind. Finding out that Amber was gay was like that times a thousand. Were there signs when we were growing up? I couldn’t actually think of any, besides the fact that she didn’t really like socializing with guys but she didn’t really like socializing with anyone.

That didn’t really change anything did it? Was she less Amber than she was yesterday just because of her sexuality? No. My memories of would remain the same despite what I knew now, I would always remember her as my best friend and confidant during my time at Killarney. Would I still watch her show? Of course, just because we couldn’t have a romantic relationship didn’t mean we couldn’t have some sort of relationship. I could be her wingman and she could be mine. The friendship I had with her was what I missed most. I missed being able to tell her that was whatever on my mind without being judged. If I ever saw Amber again, I’d try to make sure that she and I would become friends again.

“They make stuff like this up all the time,” my brother Nikola says as from the armchair in the corner of my hotel room. I invited him over to hang out before my pregame nap.

“Yeah but why? What does this Milly person have to gain from publicly outing Amber?” I ask as I continue staring up at the ceiling.

“Publicity, that’s all anyone wants in Hollywood” David Krejci from the other bed in the room.

“I thought you were asleep,”

“How can I sleep when you ladies are talking about the tabloids” he says with sarcasm dripping in his voice.

“Honestly maybe Amber’s changed, when she’s surrounded with that kind of affluence and make eight figures a year she can’t really be the same girl you dated in high school.”

“You dated a lesbian in high school?” Krejci asks.

I take the pillow my head is resting on and threw it at Krejci “How do you know how much money she makes?” I ask Nikola.

“They did a whole study in Forbes Magazine like two weeks ago. She made like twelve million last year.”

“Dollars? What the hell is Amber doing to do with that kind of money?” Just the idea of twelve million dollars is strange. I’m imagining twelve million loonies or six million toonies all stuffed into the pockets of her worn out jeans.

“I don’t know but she’s living the good life. I guess she didn’t need you as much as you thought she did.”

“I never said she needed me.” I say defensively.

“Are you kidding me? You got home at like three in the morning from the airport and kept going on about how she would come back like six months later with her tail between her legs and be begging you to take her back.” he looks over at me “If she did you probably would’ve,” he adds.

David Krejci is now sitting up in his bed watching our exchange like it’s the most interesting thing ever.

I roll my eyes “Nikola we have to take a nap, I’ll call you after the game.” I say getting up to open the door for my younger brother.

I get back into my bed and stare up at the ceiling trying to centre myself and focus so I can sleep.

“Do you still love her?” I hear Krejci ask.

“I’m not sure” I know that deep inside I love Amber. She’s everything I’ve ever been looking for. I’ve never stopped yet I refuse say it out loud. Seeing her two weeks ago on TV just made me realize that I hadn’t moved on like I’d tricked myself to believe. Amber’s personality really transferred well on TV and it reminded me why I had loved her in the first place. She didn’t try to hide any part of her. She wanted everyone to know who she was and what she did right off the bat in the first episode.

“That’s not a no,” David says staring up at the ceiling as well “What are you going to do about Britney?”

“I don’t know,” I say laying down on my right side and closing my eyes.
______

“It wasn’t that bad,” Greg says, from the other side of my glass and wrought iron front door.

“It was so bad” I yell into the vintage rotary phone that doubles as an intercom up above in my bedroom. I’m in my California king sized bed which is kind of excessive since I’m barely five feet tall. It eleven in the morning and I’m taking a mental health day from work. Dolce and Coco are on the opposite corner of my bed, sleeping, I assume that’s what they do when I’m not at home, they sleep. I called the housekeeping service and told them that I was going to pass today, so I wasn’t expecting anyone. That’s until the staff drove the company car down Sunset Boulevard in pursuit of me.

“Look on the Brightside you don’t have to worry about sleazy guys hitting on you at the bar anymore.” Jo, the other secretary, says.

“Come on, let us in Amber, all we wanted to do was bring you a get well basket.” Ivy says.

“Fine,” I say pulling back the covers so that I can get out of bed. Coco and Dolce follow me down the curving staircase with the hand welded wrought iron railing. The marble is cold and slightly sticky on my feet as I walk down two flights of the spiralling staircase.

“Finally,” Greg says as I unlock the door.

I watch the parade of my coworkers walk into my foyer, “Wait if you’re all here who’s at the office?”

“Ruby and Jasmine are wrangling the new interns,” says Wilfred who’s basically in charge of cataloging the furniture.

“Well can I get you anything?” ask as the whole group seems to gravitate to my kitchen.

“No but I love your pajamas,” Ivy says and I look down at my Agent Provocateur black silk pajamas with thick white vertical stripes. “It’s very vintage.”

I pull out a prepackaged box of Oreos and before my eyes a whole row disappears. “Here’s your feel better basket, Amber” says Gabby whose job is to measure the dimensions of rooms and draw out floor plans.

“Aw thanks,” I say, the basket is more like a large wicker dog bed and I put it down on the island in the middle of my kitchen.

“Anyway Amber, we need to get you a PR person, some cute twenty year old guy.” Greg says.

“I don’t need a PR guy because I don’t care what the public thinks of me. I’m like Lady GaGa, when the cameras are off we’re just one big mystery and no one cares because we’re good at what we do.”

“Fine Amber, do as you please. Keep in mind that all of our jobs are riding on you. We have reservations at Mr. Chow in ten minutes so we should be going.” Greg says.

Yeah, no pressure. I think to myself as I open the door. Everyone gives me a hug and tells me to feel better before they pile into the giant Cadillac Escalade parked in the middle of my driveway. I go back into the kitchen and finish off the box of Oreos along with a glass of milk.