MAKE ME UP

DATES, DISGUISES AND DESIRES

“Dress warm!”

That was the only response to my question regarding appropriate attire for the surprise evening. It was a midweek date, which I thought signified a more casual tone than the pressure that came with a sexy Saturday night invite. Deciding to follow Luis’ advice, I made my expectations and boundaries explicitly clear: no photos, nowhere public. Lincoln responded with a laughing face emoji and a thumbs up symbol, and then instructions about what to wear, and what time the chauffeur would be picking me up.

Here I am, head covered by a bobby hat, scarf wrapped around my face as if I am about to commit a crime, and ear muffs on, because cold ears are the first sign of true hypothermia, in my opinion. From the chin-up, I have the perfect accessories to rob a bank and get away with it. From the neck down, I look like I’m the mascot for selling tyres as each of my layers is bunched around my waist like oversized rubber rings. Unable to linger on my outfit any longer, I watch as the car that brought me home last time pulls up, and the driver opens the door for me.

“Lovely to see you again, Miss Jarvis.”

“Likewise” I mumble, remembering how I asked him to pull over, so I could use the supermarket toilets.

I am taken out of London to an area that seems to be filled with fields and farm animals. The nostalgic sight reminds me of home, and I find myself yearning to go horse riding like I did as a teen. Instead of finding a country pub, as I was expecting at this point, we pull up to a field. Lincoln comes to greet me immediately, and kisses my cheek in welcome.

“If only he had been an inch to the left, his lips would have been on mine”. I thought, before giving myself a good telling off.

Behind him is something I’ve never seen up-close before: a huge air-balloon. It’s blue and white swirls make it look like a giant lollipop, the ropes anchoring it to the ground. There are some men on the ground, and I assume one will be controlling the balloon.

“Don’t worry, I trust these men, they won’t take any photos of us,” Lincoln whispers, showing that he was being attentive to my earlier wishes.

He leads me to the basket, pointing out the gaps where I should put my hands and feet in order to scramble inside. Allowing me to go first, he soothes my concerns by praising my climbing skills until I c**k my leg over the side, only to fall head first on the other side. I’m mortified. Dashing up, he leaps over like the stunt double he used to be, and pulls me up.

“I did the exact same thing the first time too,” he smiles, and whether it’s true or not, I instantly feel better.

He calls down to the men below, and I feel the basket start to shake. A hot roar blows into the balloon, and gravity becomes powerless.

“You can drive this thing?” I ask him, feeling foolish, because we are in trouble if the answer is no.

“When I was a stunt double, I wanted to be as skilled as possible. In one action movie I had to climb the outside of an air balloon, so I learnt how to fly one, and got my license. It comes in handy when I want to be somewhere away from paparazzi”. He explained.

Lincoln points out all the sights of London and the fields beyond. There’s a blissful sensation to be found in the exhilaration of the height compared to the smooth slowness of the speed as we sail over the sky. We are both quiet for a moment while I evaluate my perspectives in this unclaimed sky that we are traveling through.

“Why did you change from a stuntman to an actor?” I ask Lincoln, who smiles.

“Too many injuries, my family were becoming worried. I was so focused on providing for my sisters and mother that I was blind to the risks and dangers I was putting myself in. Five years ago, I was skydiving. It was something I had done many times before, but the first parachute didn’t open. The second parachute was a little tangled, and by the time it released I was past the point of safety. I did land, but broke both my legs on impact with the ground. I promised my mother in the hospital bed that I would stop. That’s why I turned to acting. The transition was harder than I expected, because I continued to be cast for action leads with the expectation that I would launch myself into dangerous situations. That’s why this film is so important, it’s my chance to show that I can act, that there’s more to me than people assume. It’s called The Moral Man. The premise is about a man who always does the good thing, even to the detriment of himself. I feel I can perform this part as it should be done, in many ways, parts of the character’s story is my own. I need to break the cycle of action movies and danger. I did have a talent as a stuntman, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have other talents, but breaking that perception in others is difficult!” Lincoln looked at me, as if he would find judgment in my face, but I could only be impressed by his honesty, and could understand his feelings better than he would ever realise.

Continuing to soar, and not just because I was in an air balloon, I told him about my parents and how our relationship was strained at the moment, then I told him about Luis, my first friend in the capital. We realised that we shared a love of horse riding and poetry, he claims that William Blake was his favourite, while I appreciated the works of Keats more. He told me that his sister was still honeymooning in Rome at the moment, and had been to visit the Keats’ museum recently. We find even more common ground before we realise that we both have a love of Tolkein, and decide we must have a future date where we complete a Lord of the Rings marathon.

A future date!

“If you open my backpack, I’ve prepared some food for us. It’s all gluten-free so you don’t need to be careful”. He volunteers.

I pass him a plate that he also managed to pack, and we enjoy the little picnic he has put so much effort into. I’m touched, and a little overwhelmed by how my feelings for him have grown deeper over the course of this date. Still, the cloud of doom is always at the back of my mind. What will I do about Tim? The balloon begins to descend, and I turn to face Lincoln to thank him for arranging something so special. He is closer than I realised, and my chest is pressed against his. My hands feel numb with the mix of nerves and want. Leaning down, the tip of his nose touches my own, and I understand that he is giving me a choice, while leaving me in little doubt of what he would like to happen. As easily as that, all my second guessing disappears. I kiss him. Softly at first, but with increasing enthusiasm as the heat of desire pools in my belly. He pulls me impossibly closer to him, and I’m desperate to run my fingers over his skin, but a sudden bump literally pulls us back to earth. He pulls away from me, but keeps his hand on my cheek.

“I wish we could stay in the balloon”. I whisper.

“We don’t need the balloon to have this”, he replies.

I feel my phone vibrate in my jean pockets.

“What time is it?” He asks one of the men waiting on the grass.

“Ten o’clock” I answer, as I return my phone to my pocket, wishing that what he just said could be the truth.