“I love you,” Ryan says to Lynda, eyes bright with enthusiasm.
“I’m tired, Ryan. Not in the mood for sex.” Lynda hands over the purse and enters the apartment, pushing Ryan aside.
The brightness in his eyes gone, Ryan is motionless, facing the hallway. He has practiced these romantic words for more than a thousand times already, but this cold reaction was so unlike the way Ryan had imagined in his dreams. His mouth dry, he gulps. Lynda’s red purse in his hand, he turns to the apartment.
Standing by the sink, Lynda licks a Popsicle that she has just taken out of the freezer.
“No, I really mean it,” he says, regathering his strength.
“Me too. Oh God, it’s hot in here. Didn’t you fix the AC yet?”
Ah, the AC, Ryan remembers. This Ryan character that I am incarnated into is indeed a lazy one. Shutting the door, Ryan approaches Lynda.
“Baby, it’s not me who would fix it. The landlord said—”
“One thing I asked you, one thing,” Lynda spits and sucks on the Popsicle. “And you can’t do it.”
Putting her purse on the counter, Ryan approaches Lynda. He extends his hand, ready for a romantic caress.
“They’ll have it fixed by tomorrow, babe,” he says softly.
“Oh, forget it.” Throwing the rest of Popsicle in the sink, Lynda leaves the open kitchen, leaving Ryan with his hand stretched out. “This whole apartment is a shithole. It’s small, and it smells, and the AC doesn’t work, and it smells.”
Dropping his hand, Ryan lets out a loud sigh. As if she might have heard it, Lynda turns her angry face to him.
“How did the meeting go?” Ryan asks. “No new audition?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Lynda yells. “I’m sick of this place. We should move to one of those new apartments on 8th street.”
Ryan sighs and turns to Lynda. Facing Ryan, she stands by the couch in the living room with her hands on her waist. That is the I-want-to-talk-but-on-my-own-terms gesture of Lynda. Such conversations are historically nothing to be thrilled about, but still inevitable. Ryan reluctantly steps toward her.
“Babe, we went over this already. We need to wait for my promotion to complete.”
“Oh, forget it. If we rely on your income we get nowhere.”
“What else? You barely even had any auditions last year.”
Lynda frowns. “I’m building up my résumé, you know. The show business is slow. How do you—”
“I know. I know.” Ryan holds her hands. “And I adore this passion in you in pursuing your dreams, and I support you in that. And I love you for that. Love! Speaking of love, I have something important to tell you.”
“Speaking of support, I have something more important to tell you.”
“OK, but can yours wait for a few minutes, baby? What I’m about to say, it’s a matter of life and death.”
“Mine is about my career,” Lynda says, her voice gradually rising. “I’ve devoted my life to my career. And if you can’t understand how important—”
“OK. OK. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m wrong. OK. You go first,” Ryan says, gesturing to her. She is still shooting Ryan an angry glare. “Go ahead, baby. I’m all ears.”
Pulling Ryan’s hand, she sits on the couch. The mirthless smile that she offers is more disturbing than soothing. She continues, tilting her head.
“Remember that Indian movie we watched, The One Night Stand?”
“Aargh! I slept through most of it. But yeah, I remember bits and pieces.”
“That girl, Sunny Leone—”
“Oh yeah, she was hot. I remember her for sure.”
“She is one of the greatest superstars in India now but—”
“Good for her.”
“But, like me, she also had to work her way up from the bottom.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Acting is hard everywhere.”
“Do you wanna let me talk?” Lynda shouts.
“Sorry. No more words from me. My lips are sealed,” Ryan says, closing his mouth with a zip gesture.
Lynda takes a deep breath. Turning her gaze down, she looks at Ryan’s hand while playing with them.
“She started by acting in Adult Entertainment Videos. Then her ratings went up. She got fans, lots of fans. The whole India was watching her videos. Then, instead of her begging Bollywood for a role, Bollywood came crawling to her. In less than three years, she became one of the highest-rated stars in Bollywood. You cannot imagine how many fans she has. So many. Like a lot.” Lynda looks up.
His vision blurred with wet eyes, Ryan watches Lynda looking up at him again.
“So… that is the road to success I’m taking,” she says.
Ryan feels like gagging. For a few moments, he says nothing. A tear eventually escapes his eye.
“You can talk now,” Lynda says softly.
“So,” Ryan squeaks. His stomach cramping, he sits upright. The color drained from his face, Ryan gulps. “You’re going to become a porn worker? What about me?” he growls.
“It’s actually called a porn star,” she yells before quickly lowering her voice. “And… and… I kind of already have,” she says, swallowing the last words.
Ryan throws up on the carpet, a bit of vomit landing on her shoe.
“Oh, my God. Look what you did. You’re disgusting.”
“I’m the disgusting one?” Ryan shouts, looking up at her. “You fuck in porn, and I’m disgusting here!” He throws up again.
“Hey, watch your language. You need to chill out. ‘You fuck in porn.’ ‘You fuck in porn.’”
“Well, don’t you?” Ryan says, leaning back up.
“Ryan,” she responds after a hesitation, willing her voice to calm. “Please try to understand. This is my job. This is… just… something that I do.”
“What about me? What about us?” Ryan says, tears clogging his throat.
“We love each other. You just said that. That’s all that matters,” she says, offering a smile that no longer looks cute.
“Love?!” Ryan exclaims, his voice tight. “What am I supposed to do when you come back home, having fucked a bunch of guys?”
“Be supportive?” she says, her eyes narrowed.
“Supportive of what?”
“Of my career—” Lynda shouts.
“What career?” His face flushed, Ryan shouts back, louder than her.
“And if you can’t understand that… Yes, my career. I am having a successful career, if you must know. My rating was above 8.1 in the past four months. 8.1. Do you understand what that means? It means 8 stars. How many stars do you have? None. You’re just a loser, jealous of my ratings.”
“Four months?!” Ryan tries to say, but only a muffled whimper comes out. He clears his throat. “You’ve been doing that for four months?”
“Five months actually,” she says, looking away. “It takes a few weeks for the ratings to come out.”
“Five months, and you never told me?”
“Well, the first month was only lesbian scenes. I didn’t think you would mind… much. Then when my career took off I figured on some-level you must already know.”
“How I’m supposed to know?” Ryan yells.
“I don’t know,” Lynda yells back. “How do all my high school teachers know? The same way.”
Pressing his palms against his eyes, Ryan tries to breathe more slowly.
“That’s it,” he says finally, standing up. “We leave. We move out of LA, somewhere no one knows us. I’ll forgive you, and we start over, fresh.”
“Out of LA? Where?”
“Anywhere. I don’t know. Somewhere your adult entertainment videos,” Ryan says in quotation marks, “haven’t reached.”
“How about my career?” she objects, standing up, face to face with Ryan.
“Screw your career.”
“Excuse me!”
“No, I don’t think I will. That’s it. I’m done with this career bullshit. Either you quit now and come with me, or it is over between us.”
“You leaving me?” Lynda sneers. “Is that your best threat? Do you know how many fans I’ve got? Many. I even have my own stalker. Go ahead, leave. I’ll find another boyfriend in just a minute. They’d all die to be with me. Then you would be the one who’s left alone with his pathetic games.”
“Games!” Ryan mutters, the word ringing a bell in his head.
“Yes, games! You put on your gloves and that stupid VR headset, walking in the house like zombies. Games.”
“What am I doing? I completely forgot it’s just a game.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you, but you never listen.”
“Listen, Lynda.” Ryan holds her arm, inviting her to sit. “Forget about all I said—”
“How can I? You made fun of my career?”
“The hell with your ca—” He swallows the rest of the sentence when he sees the reaction on Lynda’s face. “No. I didn’t mean that. Career is fine. Career is good. But please please listen to me. I’ve got something vital to tell you. Please.”
“OK. I’m listening,” Lynda says, sitting on the couch.
Ryan sits with her, still holding her hand. His hand reaching her chin, Ryan gently turns Lynda’s face toward him. He takes a deep breath while intently looking into her eyes.
“We are playing a game.”
“Oh, Ryan—” Lynda cringes away, getting up.
“No, listen to me,” he says, holding her hand. “Please, Lynda. Please. I’m begging you.”
Lynda reluctantly leans back. Separating her hand from Ryan’s, she crosses her arms. Although her face is turned away, Ryan is glad that at least he has her ears.
“Right now, you and I are lying on two white recliners, side by side, in a freaking green globe. No, not a globe. A green sphere-shaped skyscraper. We have helmets on, just like these VR headsets but more advanced, way more advanced.” Lynda gradually turns her face back to Ryan, her angry look melting away. “The virtual reality that the game produces is so real that we cannot tell it apart from the actual reality. And now your father, Senator Honestman, wants to restart the game, and if we don’t exit before he does, we will be stuck in an induced coma forever.” Out of breath, Ryan is panting.
“Oh sweetie, you have a fever,” Lynda says, putting her hand on Ryan’s forehead.
“No, I don’t. OK, yes, I might. But I’m not hallucinating. I can prove it. Look, look.” Ryan leans back on the couch. “I can decide to exit the game in my heart, and then the next time I go to sleep, bam, I wake up in real life instead. I’ll show you. Look. Look,” he says, closing his eyes. A few moments pass by. He can hear himself breathing rapidly.
“Damn it,” he says after a few moments, opening his eyes. Lynda gives him a patronizing look. “I cannot sleep now. But I’m telling you the truth, and nothing but the truth. You gotta believe me. It’s a game. Everything. Everywhere. It’s all just a game.”
His head feeling heavy, Ryan finds himself leaning forward. His sobbing starts the moment his forehead rests on her lap. He feels Lynda’s soft hand caressing his head. Somehow, that makes him feel more sorry, exacerbating his sob.
Tears penetrate through the skirt, touching her skin.
“OK, I believe you,” she says.
“What?!” Ryan says in shock, sitting up.
“I believe you. I always felt I knew you from somewhere the first time we met. The first time I kissed you, it didn’t feel like the first kiss. I told my mom, but she said it’s just deja vu. So, yes. I believe you. Let’s play your game. Now stop crying, alright?” The compassion of a merciful mother waves in Lynda’s eyes.
The growing smile on Ryan’s face turns into a half chuckle.
“All right,” he says, wiping out the tears with his hand. “I don’t quite follow, but whatever works for you. The reality is awaiting us. Let’s exit this damn game.”
“And how do you suggest we do that? It’s not by having sex, is it?” she asks, flashing her eyebrows.
“No-o-o,” Ryan says reflexively, blushing. It mixes with a smile when the thought brings images into his head. “Everything in time, my love. Everything in time. For now, you just need to decide to exit the game.”
“OK. I want to exit the game,” she says, making a cute face.
“You don’t have to say it.”
“Oopsie,” she says playfully.
“No, that’s OK too. It’s irrelevant. All that matters is that deep in your heart you want to quit the game.”
Ryan tries to ignore how sudden his stubborn Lynda has turned around. Is she playing along or perhaps playing me? Whose game is she playing now? Whatever. In a few minutes, we will be out of this damn game, he thinks. It is not worth overthinking it.
“Done,” Lynda says and smiles, having her eyes closed.
Ryan’s gaze freezes on her face for a moment. He remembers the shut eyes on Lynda’s suffering face, lying down on the recliner in the headquarters. I am bringing this smile back onto your face, my love, Ryan thinks. Just wait a few minutes longer.
“All right,” he says. “We just need to wait to fall asleep.”
“Where?” she asks, eyes still shut.
“Right here, on the couch.” Ryan helps her lean back on the couch. Resting his head on her shoulder, he holds her hand. “Let’s just close our eyes, take a deep breath, and soon we’ll wake up to the real life.”