A Tale Of Time

Twelve

                                                                                                                                                                Age of Vianna-Heler

                                                                                                                                                                Year 2750B

                                                                                        VITALE

I WAS UNABLE contact Adrianna Ferera before I was discharged from the hospital. Her agent, the closest we could get to her, told us she was unavailable. After two days of trying, Olivia rolled her eyes and said, "She doesn't want to talk to you. Leave it alone."

I knew I should, after all pursuing an unwilling person was not my modus operandi, but there was just something awfully unsettling about her. Thoughts of her made me restive like my mind was trying to put together a puzzle without pieces. 

And odd enough that was the same way I felt about the old woman from the premiere.

My conscious mind refused to believe that she had disappeared and over the lengthy days at the hospital, I'd test run various scenarios in my head to explain it. I was probably hallucinating, I'd tell myself. And the idea was so plausible that, unless I wanted to call myself mad, I encouraged myself to believe it.

But that ominous feeling about it persisted.

The cherry on top of my madness sundae was the dream about Ariana.

The dream had been recurrent over the past week, never consecutive but just enough times that I never forgot the details. Sometimes I'd pick up new titbits of information like the violet blue of her eyes or the jet black shoulder length hair that seemed to grow everywhere on the top of her head. 

The disorder of it all: the old woman, the dreams and Adrianna all felt the same way.

Unsettling.

So I put three of them in a different box at the back of my mind, refusing to seal it away till I could fit more pieces together.

THE PRESS were commendable for their doggedness.

No sooner than I had gotten my discharge form and changed into the dark hoodie and jeans that Olivia had sourced for me, their news vans and in-your-face reporters had pulled up in front of the hospital, taking pictures and screaming at everybody, staff or otherwise, that made the unfortunate mistake of leaving through the glass front doors.

I could see them, and there were many( almost like a whole football team counting the bench warmers) forming a semi-circle around the hospital, from my room on the fifth floor. Irritation built with hot pressure in my chest at the view.

Olivia patted my back, "I'm sorry I parked in front."

"It's alright," I waved away her apology and stepped back, looking over the small, sterile room that had become so familiar it was disconcerting, "They would've shown up anyway."

She nodded, "Are you going straight home?"

"I guess. I have nowhere else to be right now." And I wanted the glorious silence that came with being completely alone.

Olivia followed as I trotted down the white corridor, past different people with different ailments. A nurse- Suzanne- as I'd come to know her from her nightly shifts was talking sweetly and calmly to a patient who looked so spooked he was shaking uncontrollably. She waved briefly and turned back to her charge, "Come on Damien, it's safer downstairs."

"I hate hospitals." Olivia whispered as she watched Damien go.

I did too.

Mom was in every hospital I went to.

We took the stairs because the elevator was disgustingly full and, not that Olivia would ever mention it, because she had a ridiculous phobia for them. They were and I quote ,"Tiny-spaced contraptions of death."

When we got to the ground floor, the clicks of the cameras got louder than ever. Reporters from outside were looking around and informing each other that I had arrived and by extension, informing those with me in the lobby.

So everyone was staring.

Olivia smiled and waved at the few who recognized her while the others who had so obviously whipped out their cameras and pens to capture me in some way were unsure of what my reaction would be.

So it was surprising when a blonde little girl skipped my way, "Hi!"

Her voice was loud. Very loud and high-pitched. Like a whistle. 

Like a very annoying whistle.

I put on a polite smile, "Hello. What's your name?"

"Emma."

Pretty name.

"Your name's very pretty." I told her and looked up in the direction she'd emerged from. A few feet away stood a woman with a similar shade of blonde hair, blushing furiously while staring at Emma. I raised an eyebrow and she yelped with embarrassment, burying her face in the shoulder of the man beside her.

I looked down at the little girl, "Where's your mommy?"

She smiled a wide-toothed grin, "She's over there. With my daddy."

Emma had pointed at the blushing lady and her husband. Or he could be her lover. I smiled politely and nodded to them. They had a cute kid, albeit a loud one....

Which begged the question of why she was in the hospital in the first place, "Are you sick?"

She nodded enthusiastically, "Just a tommy bug."

And she was this cheerful? When I was a kid I'd sulk for days because of tommy bugs. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Nope." She popped the 'p.'

Okay, I'll admit.

The kid was adorable. 

Olivia cooed and squealed beside me . I would've joined her (most of the lobby certainly did) if I didn't already have a predilection for not doing such things. So I grinned at her and took her tiny hands in mine, "Then you're a brave little girl."

She giggled.

AFTER EMMA rejoined her parents, I signed a few autographs, calmed a few fans who had been worried about me and hugged a few little children. 

And I did so with a big smile on my face.

Nothing much.

Just a regular day in a celebrity's life.

But when I passed through the doors, the smile bled into a stoic expression as I ignored every reporter who had every stupid question under the sun to ask.

'Do you feel betrayed by Opal's infidelity?"

Should I have felt betrayed? Probably. But Opal was not my endgame. I always knew that. And so I did not waste disappointment on people like her.

"What are you going to do about your film with Adrianna Ferera?"

Act in it. What else?

"Do you know anything about Adrianna Ferera's relationship with Trevor Powell?"

I couldn't help myself.

I stopped.

Trevor Powell of all idiots?

They pounced on my moment of weakness, asking questions and generating answers on their own accord. It didn't help that I was standing stock still and in shock. Olivia was saying something about moving but it was lost in the confusion.

Because I was confused.

How could she have stooped so disgustingly low?

Trevor was a compulsive cheat! I hoped and prayed she was not invested in him because he would betray her so hard it would become legend. And he'd break her heart and her gentle naivete would slowly become cynicism as she realized that people were s**t. Because no one in show business would keep quiet about it. Behind her back, in her face...

Ah this was bad.

A serious conundrum.

I couldn't let her make such a foolish mistake.

But then again...

Who was I to help her or make her stop dating him?

She didn't know me or trust me enough to take my word for it.

And what was my business anyway? 

If I was to go around saving every girl from her terrible boyfriend material sensor, I'd never get any sleep.

If she was smart she'd figure it out and dump his ass.

Simple.

I put the whole situation in a suitable mental box and sealed it away, deciding then to smoothly recover from my blunder and save myself the future endless theories about my would-be supposed jealousy.

So I turned to the woman who had first asked that question and shrugged nonchalantly like I couldn't be bothered, "I had no idea."

As I continued walking, the questions came from either side, asking why I stopped, if I had a comment...

I could have stopped because of a leg cramp, asshole.

And my only comment was 'Adrianna, run.'

But I couldn't say that so I settled for a small smile, "I must admit I'm shocked. The last time Adrianna and I spoke I had no idea she was interested in him. Then again I had just met her so we weren't going to start braiding each other's hair and having a heart to heart." I let a small practiced chuckle slip, "Anyway, I think they should be happy. They both deserve it."

Simple and sweet.

Simple and sweet LIES.

Trevor did not deserve anything good, or a scrap of anything seeming like it could be good. He was trash of the highest caliber, a rodent...

"If you'll excuse me." I said with a polite nod, not giving away my unsavory thoughts.

I jogged the rest of the way towards Olivia's jeep where she sat behind the wheel, honking impatiently. After hoisting myself into the passengers seat, she started the car and shot through the parking lot and into the main road.

I HAD to give Olivia credit.

She had not questioned me thoroughly about my little slip up. And I liked it that way. If the press was nosy, then Olivia was downright invasive. And I had to answer her because she was family and she could call me whenever she wanted.

But I took pity on her invasive tendencies because she was clearly getting ill with the need to ask each mile that passed. So when we reached the boulevard close to Rose Estate, where I lived, I turned to face her, "Ask away. You'll turn red with holding in your breath."

She changed her lane and huffed, "Thank you! Why did you stop? Do you actually like this girl? Because I approve, she seems nice and I've been following her since I heard of her and she has an eclectic fashion sense. Trust the fashion sense. And she's very pleasant, you should see her Vlog!"

I shook my head and took in the familiar and large buildings and trees on either side of us. The place was so beautiful, filled with nature and innovation tied in a pretty knot, "I don't like her that way, Olivia."

"Oh?" She frowned and looked at the windshield. "You really don't like her?"

"She's a nice girl, a little on the young side. But every celebrity in Vianna-Heler that wants to last needs to start young so I understand her reasoning. She's awfully naïve too."

"You mean she's not a cynical bastard?"

"Exactly."

We fell into comfortable silence as the gates of the estate came into view. Rose Estate was expensive, in looks and in actual price. There were only eight condos within its boundaries but the allure is in how much care is put into placing each communal facility. Normal complexes prided themselves of individuality of personal space but Rose...

Rose got everything right.

When I moved to Old Helirix after my first independent paycheck, I knew that I wanted to live here.

We pulled into the poolside parking lot where a model and her adopted daughters were sunbathing in their bikinis. Olivia waved to them as we  passed, leading the way up the stairs to Condo Three where I lived on floor four.

Condo Three was designed specially for privacy hence the extensive space and the sound-proof walls. Even if I wasn't reclusive by nature, the probability of meeting my neighbors within the condo was actually very low. But the funny thing about the place was how open and airy it was. Every floor had one-way films and voice controlled motorized shades that had a millisecond response time. Even if I didn't know all the logistics of the place, I knew just enough to maintain my privacy and enjoy my stay.

I tapped in my security code and entered the house...

And to my greatest shock found myself staring at my father making good use of my liquor cabinet.

He crossed his legs on the bar stool after pouring himself a measured glass of whisky, "Welcome Vitale, Olivia. Sorry for the intrusion but there's much to discuss." He looked up from his glass and stared at me , "Have a seat."