Previously, on Just Friends...
Hugh shook his head sharply, looking closely at his wife. She was avoiding his gaze. And suddenly, he knew. They were talking about two entirely different things.
“Why don’t toi start from the beginning?” He asked gently, inwardly bracing himself. Jo nodded, to all intents and purposes looking as calm as ever. Only Hugh knew, from unfortunate experience, that it was all a show. She was panicked. She spoke.
“I met someone.”
“Um—” Hugh gaped at her, his mind trying to translate. Did that mean the same thing in Britain as it did in America? Yes, he was quite certain it did, and that meant— “Met—someone?”
“Hugh, I’m so sorry,” she was saying, looking down at her hands. Hugh realized that she was twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger, half removing it, sliding it back down, fiddling endlessly as if she had no idea what to do… “I don’t know what happened. I feel—you must hate me.”
“No. No, no…” Hugh leaned back into the canapé and pulled her back with him, draping his arm over her shoulders. “Come on. I could never hate you. Just—”
“I don’t know how this happened. These sorts of things are supposed to happen to American soap opera teenagers when they re-encounter the one that got away, not to old married women with superstar husbands and grown children of—” her voice was breaking and Hugh couldn’t stand it anymore. He sat up and turned on the cushion, facing her and resting his head in his hand, his elbow sitting on the back of the sofa.
“I understand,” he said.
“You don’t,” she insisted.
“I do,” a dit Hugh, and Jo looked up at him slowly.
“Oh, Hugh, you’re not talking about that thing in—”
“No. God, no, that was—I don’t even want to think about that—”
“This is nothing like that; it’s plus of a—”
Hugh and Jo realized they were talking on haut, retour au début of each other and finally laughed at themselves, stopping to gather their thoughts.
“Ok. So who is he?” Hugh asked finally.
Jo raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are toi so ok about this?”
“I am the world’s most supportive husband,” he a dit very drily. “Now come on. We’ve always been able to talk about everything, haven’t we?”
“Yeah.” She considered him for a second, then patted his knee and leaned back again. “Well. Remember that reunion we went to all those years ago? That guy Mike?”
“Was that the time I thought toi were going to faint dead away to the floor when he walked in?” Hugh rubbed his chin. “Dark hair? Pretentious accent?”
“It’s London.”
“Right, the accent doesn’t tell toi much does it?”
“We had a few classes together when we were just children, in school... never really connected…”
“And where did toi run into loverboy now?” Hugh was surprised to hear the slightest hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. Don’t get defensive, old boy, he thought quickly. She’s still probably going to rip toi one…
“He works at the theatre.” Jo’s voice grew doubtful, and she lowered her gaze. “It’s been—I feel terrible about how long I’ve been dancing around this… I don’t understand why I couldn’t just stay away from him—I mean, nothing’s actually happened, at least not—really, it’s just such a hideous—”
“Jo.” The word slipped out without his knowledge. It took a few secondes of her staring at him to realize that he had spoken, and that now the rest must inevitably follow. “Jo, I—I really do understand. I found myself—kind of—in the same boat.”
Her eyes widened slowly and Hugh could see the thoughts running through her head—the initial anger; the realization that she had no right to be angry, as she had done exactly the same thing; curiosity as to who he had encountered with his insanely busy schedule; and then, finally…
“Not Lisa.” She whispered. Hugh worked his jaw, unable to déplacer his head yes ou no. Jo sighed, looking off into space. “I… I suspected something might be up… I rationalized it, and then everything just—” She frowned slightly. “I think I was well on my way to hating her for a while a an ou two ago… well that’s not fair. It’s hard to hate a person toi don’t even know. I was definitely jealous.”
“Nothing had even happened…” Hugh started, and saw Jo’s eyebrow fly up. “No—I mean, nothing’s actually happened now I just mean that nothing was even going to happen—in terms of—I don’t—”
“You always were cute when you’re flustered,” Jo a dit fondly, smiling. “No, I imagine there are an awful lot of women around the world watching her every week and thinking the same thing. How—it cannot possibly be fair for her to be that beautiful. It tends to make us normal girls hate ourselves and her at the same time, even though—you can’t help—”
“—loving her,” Hugh finished, looking t the floor. Jo swallowed hard, an unexpected tugging in her chest causing her to catch her breath. “Do toi know… the first time I saw her, I thought she was funny looking.”
Jo laughed in spite of herself. “This is surreal. Go on, tell your wife about the girl toi like.”
Hugh shook his head, grinning. “I thought she and Robert were married, first of all…”
~*~*~
“It is hard, isn’t it?” Jo a dit hours and hours later. “Knowing toi can’t, but also knowing that if toi don’t…”
“I’m so sorry, Jo.”
“I’m sorry too.”
They sighed in unison, and then started to laugh at themselves, at the absurdity of the situation.
“Ok,” Jo a dit a while later. “Listen. I have some papers here…”
“Wow.” Hugh furrowed his brow slightly. “What if I had been a raving lunatic when toi told me this?”
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” she said, pulling a large envelope from her shoulder bag on the floor. “And… I wanted to talk to toi here, before toi spent a ridiculously long plane ride only to turn around and come back because toi couldn’t—stand the sight of me.”
Hugh took in a deep breath. “We’re not going to be that kind of couple. We’re not, are we?”
“No. No, we’ll—” She bit her lips and looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “I can’t believe I’m saying to you… that we’ll always be friends.” They shared a very tragic, very bemused look before Jo suddenly saw the clock and frowned. “What time do toi have to be on set?”
“Geez. Like an heure ou so. God.” Hugh rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “Good thing I have to look like death warmed over anyway.”
“Sounds fun.” Jo stretched luxuriously. “Well, while you’re running off to the office, I think I’m going to have a long long nap.”
“Kill joy.” Hugh snarked.
“Here.” She handed him the envelope. “This is just a copy. We can figure out the details sometime when things aren’t so… this. I’ll, um—I’ll be gone in a few hours, so…”
Hugh pulled Jo to her feet and hugged her, suddenly overcome with the reality of their situation.
“Thank toi for our children,” he a dit quietly into her hair, holding her close. Jo closed her eyes and tried to find her voice.
“Thank you… for everything.”
~*~*~
Lisa had not slept all night. She had managed to stay awake through two films and a sudden drop in temperature that had left her snuggled under two blankets on her living room canapé closing her eyes and trying desperately to lapse into unconsciousness.
It wasn’t working.
Looking at her clock, she sighed heavily—in about an heure Hugh was called to the set again, and they would start their final jour of shooting. While she had originally been annoyed that she wouldn’t be involved in this last day, now it seemed plus a godsend than anything else. All she had to do was get through one jour of nothing in particular, and then—
Damn it! She rolled over slightly, burying her face in the pillow. The cast party. It was the jour after tomorrow already, and how was she going to—
Her phone rang. Automatically reaching to answer it, she suddenly pulled her hand back and gave herself a stern talking to.
Ok. See who it is first. If it’s Hugh, toi are not going to answer. That’s right. Not. Absolutely not going to answer…
Big surprise on the caller id. It was Hugh. Lisa breathed in plus oxygen than her lungs could easily stand, put her phone on silent, and closed her eyes again. How was she going to get through this party?
~*~*~
“Come on, Lisa…” Hugh muttered as he navigated traffic on his way to the set. Any other jour in the an and he would’ve just called and a dit he would be late, ou tried to finagle a reschedule of some kind, but they were so behind schedule… it wasn’t possible.
He redialed again. Her stubborn refusal to pick up was infuriating him, and at the same time…
It’s ok. It’s better this way, he told himself. You get this one jour done, and then toi go and see her in person. Tell her in person. toi don’t want to do this over the phone anyway…
That decided, he tossed his phone back into the passenger siège and revved the engine.
“Look out, world,” he said, flashing his best Bond Villain grin t himself in the rearview mirror. “This is going to be the fastest shoot in the history of television.”
~*~*~
Lisa had donné up on sleep entirely. A whole other problem had presented itself, and until she found a solution she wasn’t going to be able to relax. Hugh would be at the party. Therefore she should absolutely not be at the party—but how could she get out of it? Not only was she worried that she would lose her mind and do something stupid…
He might bring Jo.
Nausea again—it was something of an old friend par this time. Just the idea of what she had been about to do…
It came to her in a flash. Two minutes later she was up in her room, digging through her bedroom drawer until she discovered the one thing that would feasibly get her out of this obligation without too many questions…
Another country.
“Hey, Julie?” Lisa fingered her plane tickets nervously. “It’s Lisa. Is there any way toi can déplacer up my flight to Spain? I was hoping to fly out this morning.”
Hugh shook his head sharply, looking closely at his wife. She was avoiding his gaze. And suddenly, he knew. They were talking about two entirely different things.
“Why don’t toi start from the beginning?” He asked gently, inwardly bracing himself. Jo nodded, to all intents and purposes looking as calm as ever. Only Hugh knew, from unfortunate experience, that it was all a show. She was panicked. She spoke.
“I met someone.”
“Um—” Hugh gaped at her, his mind trying to translate. Did that mean the same thing in Britain as it did in America? Yes, he was quite certain it did, and that meant— “Met—someone?”
“Hugh, I’m so sorry,” she was saying, looking down at her hands. Hugh realized that she was twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger, half removing it, sliding it back down, fiddling endlessly as if she had no idea what to do… “I don’t know what happened. I feel—you must hate me.”
“No. No, no…” Hugh leaned back into the canapé and pulled her back with him, draping his arm over her shoulders. “Come on. I could never hate you. Just—”
“I don’t know how this happened. These sorts of things are supposed to happen to American soap opera teenagers when they re-encounter the one that got away, not to old married women with superstar husbands and grown children of—” her voice was breaking and Hugh couldn’t stand it anymore. He sat up and turned on the cushion, facing her and resting his head in his hand, his elbow sitting on the back of the sofa.
“I understand,” he said.
“You don’t,” she insisted.
“I do,” a dit Hugh, and Jo looked up at him slowly.
“Oh, Hugh, you’re not talking about that thing in—”
“No. God, no, that was—I don’t even want to think about that—”
“This is nothing like that; it’s plus of a—”
Hugh and Jo realized they were talking on haut, retour au début of each other and finally laughed at themselves, stopping to gather their thoughts.
“Ok. So who is he?” Hugh asked finally.
Jo raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are toi so ok about this?”
“I am the world’s most supportive husband,” he a dit very drily. “Now come on. We’ve always been able to talk about everything, haven’t we?”
“Yeah.” She considered him for a second, then patted his knee and leaned back again. “Well. Remember that reunion we went to all those years ago? That guy Mike?”
“Was that the time I thought toi were going to faint dead away to the floor when he walked in?” Hugh rubbed his chin. “Dark hair? Pretentious accent?”
“It’s London.”
“Right, the accent doesn’t tell toi much does it?”
“We had a few classes together when we were just children, in school... never really connected…”
“And where did toi run into loverboy now?” Hugh was surprised to hear the slightest hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. Don’t get defensive, old boy, he thought quickly. She’s still probably going to rip toi one…
“He works at the theatre.” Jo’s voice grew doubtful, and she lowered her gaze. “It’s been—I feel terrible about how long I’ve been dancing around this… I don’t understand why I couldn’t just stay away from him—I mean, nothing’s actually happened, at least not—really, it’s just such a hideous—”
“Jo.” The word slipped out without his knowledge. It took a few secondes of her staring at him to realize that he had spoken, and that now the rest must inevitably follow. “Jo, I—I really do understand. I found myself—kind of—in the same boat.”
Her eyes widened slowly and Hugh could see the thoughts running through her head—the initial anger; the realization that she had no right to be angry, as she had done exactly the same thing; curiosity as to who he had encountered with his insanely busy schedule; and then, finally…
“Not Lisa.” She whispered. Hugh worked his jaw, unable to déplacer his head yes ou no. Jo sighed, looking off into space. “I… I suspected something might be up… I rationalized it, and then everything just—” She frowned slightly. “I think I was well on my way to hating her for a while a an ou two ago… well that’s not fair. It’s hard to hate a person toi don’t even know. I was definitely jealous.”
“Nothing had even happened…” Hugh started, and saw Jo’s eyebrow fly up. “No—I mean, nothing’s actually happened now I just mean that nothing was even going to happen—in terms of—I don’t—”
“You always were cute when you’re flustered,” Jo a dit fondly, smiling. “No, I imagine there are an awful lot of women around the world watching her every week and thinking the same thing. How—it cannot possibly be fair for her to be that beautiful. It tends to make us normal girls hate ourselves and her at the same time, even though—you can’t help—”
“—loving her,” Hugh finished, looking t the floor. Jo swallowed hard, an unexpected tugging in her chest causing her to catch her breath. “Do toi know… the first time I saw her, I thought she was funny looking.”
Jo laughed in spite of herself. “This is surreal. Go on, tell your wife about the girl toi like.”
Hugh shook his head, grinning. “I thought she and Robert were married, first of all…”
~*~*~
“It is hard, isn’t it?” Jo a dit hours and hours later. “Knowing toi can’t, but also knowing that if toi don’t…”
“I’m so sorry, Jo.”
“I’m sorry too.”
They sighed in unison, and then started to laugh at themselves, at the absurdity of the situation.
“Ok,” Jo a dit a while later. “Listen. I have some papers here…”
“Wow.” Hugh furrowed his brow slightly. “What if I had been a raving lunatic when toi told me this?”
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” she said, pulling a large envelope from her shoulder bag on the floor. “And… I wanted to talk to toi here, before toi spent a ridiculously long plane ride only to turn around and come back because toi couldn’t—stand the sight of me.”
Hugh took in a deep breath. “We’re not going to be that kind of couple. We’re not, are we?”
“No. No, we’ll—” She bit her lips and looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “I can’t believe I’m saying to you… that we’ll always be friends.” They shared a very tragic, very bemused look before Jo suddenly saw the clock and frowned. “What time do toi have to be on set?”
“Geez. Like an heure ou so. God.” Hugh rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “Good thing I have to look like death warmed over anyway.”
“Sounds fun.” Jo stretched luxuriously. “Well, while you’re running off to the office, I think I’m going to have a long long nap.”
“Kill joy.” Hugh snarked.
“Here.” She handed him the envelope. “This is just a copy. We can figure out the details sometime when things aren’t so… this. I’ll, um—I’ll be gone in a few hours, so…”
Hugh pulled Jo to her feet and hugged her, suddenly overcome with the reality of their situation.
“Thank toi for our children,” he a dit quietly into her hair, holding her close. Jo closed her eyes and tried to find her voice.
“Thank you… for everything.”
~*~*~
Lisa had not slept all night. She had managed to stay awake through two films and a sudden drop in temperature that had left her snuggled under two blankets on her living room canapé closing her eyes and trying desperately to lapse into unconsciousness.
It wasn’t working.
Looking at her clock, she sighed heavily—in about an heure Hugh was called to the set again, and they would start their final jour of shooting. While she had originally been annoyed that she wouldn’t be involved in this last day, now it seemed plus a godsend than anything else. All she had to do was get through one jour of nothing in particular, and then—
Damn it! She rolled over slightly, burying her face in the pillow. The cast party. It was the jour after tomorrow already, and how was she going to—
Her phone rang. Automatically reaching to answer it, she suddenly pulled her hand back and gave herself a stern talking to.
Ok. See who it is first. If it’s Hugh, toi are not going to answer. That’s right. Not. Absolutely not going to answer…
Big surprise on the caller id. It was Hugh. Lisa breathed in plus oxygen than her lungs could easily stand, put her phone on silent, and closed her eyes again. How was she going to get through this party?
~*~*~
“Come on, Lisa…” Hugh muttered as he navigated traffic on his way to the set. Any other jour in the an and he would’ve just called and a dit he would be late, ou tried to finagle a reschedule of some kind, but they were so behind schedule… it wasn’t possible.
He redialed again. Her stubborn refusal to pick up was infuriating him, and at the same time…
It’s ok. It’s better this way, he told himself. You get this one jour done, and then toi go and see her in person. Tell her in person. toi don’t want to do this over the phone anyway…
That decided, he tossed his phone back into the passenger siège and revved the engine.
“Look out, world,” he said, flashing his best Bond Villain grin t himself in the rearview mirror. “This is going to be the fastest shoot in the history of television.”
~*~*~
Lisa had donné up on sleep entirely. A whole other problem had presented itself, and until she found a solution she wasn’t going to be able to relax. Hugh would be at the party. Therefore she should absolutely not be at the party—but how could she get out of it? Not only was she worried that she would lose her mind and do something stupid…
He might bring Jo.
Nausea again—it was something of an old friend par this time. Just the idea of what she had been about to do…
It came to her in a flash. Two minutes later she was up in her room, digging through her bedroom drawer until she discovered the one thing that would feasibly get her out of this obligation without too many questions…
Another country.
“Hey, Julie?” Lisa fingered her plane tickets nervously. “It’s Lisa. Is there any way toi can déplacer up my flight to Spain? I was hoping to fly out this morning.”
And then her favorite part of the morning...
