Hand of Fate (DH RPS, Marcia/Felicity, R)
TITLE: Hand of fate
AUTHOR: Angie (the_girl_20)
WRITTEN FOR: fox1013
FEEDBACK: scotangelina@yahoo.com
SITE: Girlie Stuff
DISTRIBUTION: Feel free to take this, just let me know where it's gone.
FANDOM: Desperate Housewives RPS
PAIRING: Marcia/Felicity
SUMMARY: ‘If she wins the Oscar, I’ll tell her how I feel.’
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I am not implying that any of this is remotely true. Don’t sue me.
WORD COUNT: 2,834
‘If she wins the Oscar, I’ll tell her how I feel.’
The decision was relatively easy to make. It came to her all of a sudden one day at work. She hasn’t wavered from it since making her mind up. It is oddly liberating, to have the power taken out of her hands. Generally, she’s not one to leave things to chance, she certainly doesn’t believe in fate or destiny. But, after wrestling with her feelings for over a year, it’s something of a relief to throw it to the wind and let some higher power dictate the course of her life.
It is also terrifying.
In this case, the ‘higher power’ in question is the ‘The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’. Not, perhaps, everyone’s deity of choice, but it seems to be perversely fitting to her life.
Marcia reckons that she’s giving herself a 50/50 chance. There’s no question that the Best Actress competition is a two horse race this year. Every pundit agrees, it’s either going to be Reese Witherspoon or Felicity. If she had been thinking of propositioning, say, Keira Knightly, then the whole thing would definitely have been a mockery. But as it stand, she feels that it could go either way. And in all honesty, she isn’t sure whether she hopes that Felicity will win or that she will lose.
If the awards were to be determined by talent alone, there is no doubt in her mind that she would be declaring her love come Oscar night. Even taking into account her own probable bias, Felicity’s immense gift is undeniable. No matter the character she is playing, she always brings warmth and heart to it, forcing you to feel and care far more than if the same character were played by a lesser actress. Viewing the film had unsettled Marcia considerably. So complete was the transformation that she had to remind herself she was watching Felicity on a number of occasions. Felicity didn’t need prosthetics and make-up to become a character. Her performance was subtle and nuanced and startling. For someone so wholly feminine to be able to understand how femininity can be elusive and awkward for someone seeking it. For a woman utterly comfortable and confident in her body to look as if it suddenly didn’t quite fit her any more was a wonder to behold. Yes, if they gave out Oscars for talent, Felicity deserved an armful. They could start by reclaiming Gwyneth’s.
Although the decision has largely been taken away from her, it doesn’t stop her pondering the pros and cons of both possible outcomes. She knows them by heart.
She could lose the best friendship she’s ever experienced. She could break up a loving family. She could live forever pining away and wondering what might have been. She could continue to love Felicity from afar and enjoy every stolen moment and innocent touch.
She has never allowed herself to get this close before. Ever since she was a teenager, she’s exercised restraint in her relationships with other women. She has never been touchy-feely or over-demonstrative. Until recently. Until Felicity came along, with her warm hands and her strong hugs. It had been very easy to let herself fall into the habit of touching. A hug to say hello, a kiss to say goodbye. An arm around a waist, a head on a shoulder, hands intertwined.
Occasionally Marcia would see pictures of herself with Felicity and would cringe. She looked like a lovesick teenager. Wrapped so tightly around Felicity that it was a wonder the poor woman could breathe. But then she started to notice that Felicity looked just as happy, and was holding her just as tightly. And she began to wonder.
Then the damn rumours had started. The rumours she’d spent her entire professional life trying to avoid. At first she had been aghast. Where had they come from? Who knew? Then she realised that it was all just speculation, and possibly wishful thinking. All she had to do was to smile and deny it. And she’d done that for long enough anyway, she was an expert. But Felicity never once asked her about it. The others had skirted around the issue, and Eva had come straight out with it. Eva was a tabloid fiend, so gossip of this magnitude would have been impossible for her not to mention. She’d answered their questions and accepted their platitudes with some semblance of a smile. But Felicity was the one who came to her trailer, the one who held her as she cried, the one who never asked any questions. Maybe she didn’t want to hear the answers, the lies.
If only Felicity hadn’t kissed her. She could have gone on with her life not knowing how it felt to kiss her. But she does. Every second of it is seared into her memory. She remembers how Felicity’s hand felt in hers, steadying her shaking one. She remembers her surprise when Felicity turned to her, a hand touching her cheek, hips moving against her own. She will never forget the first touch of their lips together. Marcia has always scoffed at romantic clichés, but in that first second, the whole world did truly seem to drop away and she forgot that she was on a stage, in front of hundreds of people. There was only herself and Felicity and the moment.
They never really spoke about it afterwards. It was the first time Marcia felt awkward in Felicity’s company. She wanted to ask her why she’d done it. If she liked it. Did she want to do it again? But she never did ask. And they never did it again. Marcia had been worried that it would affect their friendship. But it didn’t. Felicity was as affectionate as ever, maybe even more so.
Marcia stood back and watched as Felicity finally got some recognition. Before the Emmys, Marcia had been thoroughly sickened by the press speculation on whether herself or Teri would win. There was no mention of Felicity. And when Felicity’s name was announced Marcia literally couldn’t have been happier if she’d won herself. She’d cried right along with her and watched from the sidelines as Felicity finally stepped into the limelight she deserved.
Felicity appears to be on a winning streak of late, adding a Golden Globe and a SAG award to her Emmy. So maybe the odds are stacked in Marcia’s favour. Or stacked against her, depending on her mood when she thinks about it. Whatever the announcer says when he opens the Best Actress envelope on Oscar night, Marcia will honour the agreement she has made with herself.
‘If she wins the Oscar, I’ll tell her how I feel.’
*****
Oscar night arrives far more quickly than it has any right to. Marcia is half-listening to Eva’s constant stream of chatter. She is still somewhat annoyed that Eva had announced to the world that they would be watching the ceremony together, in bed. She knows that Eva meant no harm by it, but it irks her that Eva can go around making a flippant comment like that without the tabloid vultures diving on it, ripping out every headline possible. It’s fine to be young, beautiful and rabidly heterosexual and make ambiguous comments, because that titillates the male population. It is not alright to be forty-something, unconventionally attractive and homosexual. Period.
They are not in bed. They are in Marcia’s living room. Eva is wearing an outfit that clearly denotes that she has plans for after the ceremony that do not involve Marcia. And Marcia is just fine with that. She will have to deal with whatever the Best Actress announcement brings with it, and Eva does not factor into that.
The ‘Red Carpet’ pre-show starts and Eva squeals in excitement. Marcia tips her head back and finishes off her glass of wine, she has a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.
They watch the nominees arrive and get interviewed, Eva ventures opinions on all of the dresses, Marcia nods and drinks wine. Then they see her. Marcia expects to have to tell Eva to shut the hell up, but, other than a sharp intake of breath, she is surprisingly silent.
Marcia can’t draw her eyes away from the television even for a second to check whether or not Eva has fainted from the excitement of it all. She is transfixed, as she always is when Felicity is on the screen. She is a goddess in black. Marcia watches as she reaches back for Bill, drawing his arm around her waist. A pang of jealousy makes her chest ache as Felicity’s eyes close when Bill leans in to place a kiss on her temple.
A sense of panic starts to settle in. How can she even be considering harming that picture of happiness? Why for one second should she believe that Felicity would leave Bill for her? What the hell is she thinking?
Eva hands her another glass of wine and she takes a long drink, hoping for mental anaesthesia, at least until the ceremony starts. Bill and Felicity begin their journey up the long red carpet and once again Marcia can breathe as Felicity disappears from the screen.
“She’s so gorgeous, isn’t she?”
For the first time that night, Marcia is in complete agreement with Eva’s opinion.
She drifts into the kitchen to get snacks and get herself under control. She’s a nervous wreck and not drunk enough to compensate. She leans on the counter for a second, taking deep breaths.
“Marcia! Come quick, they’re interviewing her!”
She races through in time to hear Felicity describe her gown buying process. She barely hears the words, all she can think about is how excited Felicity seems to be there and how happy that makes her feel. She is proud and thrilled and excited and terrified. She knows she’s going to collapse in a heap when the nervous energy wears off. Then the interviewer introduces the messages they had filmed earlier in the week. Teri and Nicolette are shown first, their message is cute and funny and Marcia finds herself smiling affectionately as Felicity laughs.
Now it’s Marcia and Eva. Eva shrieks something unintelligible and Marcia slaps her arm. Marcia doesn’t look at herself, or at Eva, only at Felicity. The joy on her face is evident, as is the fact that she is very near tears. Matching tears spring to Marcia’s eyes as she watches Felicity try to keep her mascara intact. As Felicity struggles to find words to sum up how the messages made her feel, Marcia wipes her own eyes.
“She totally liked ours better, right? I mean, it was obvious.”
And again, Marcia has to agree. The first message made Felicity smile, the second had moved her to tears. Marcia isn’t sure how that makes her feel, she knows that she shares a special friendship with Felicity that goes beyond those shared by the other cast members, but does that really give her the right to go around declaring her undying love and hoping to have it reciprocated?
*****
She spends the first couple of hours of the ceremony completely distracted. She doesn’t have a clue who wins what, if they were deserving, what they said. She sits and turns possibilities over and over in her head and gets more and more nervous as the end of the ceremony draws near.
The usually interminable speeches speed by at an alarming rate and before she knows where she is, the announcer is introducing Jamie Foxx. She draws her breath in and tries to quell the wave of nausea that sweeps over her, resulting in a light sheen of sweat on her face. Eva reaches over and grips her hand tighter than necessary. She is grateful for the slight distraction the pain brings. Her heart jumps when Felicity’s name is read out as a nominee. Marcia smiles as Felicity performs the required ‘flattered and modest’ routine, they had practised it together in Felicity’s trailer earlier in the week, along with the gracious loser act:: smiling, nodding and clapping.
When the envelope is opened and the card is drawn out, Marcia thinks that she really might faint. Eva squeezes her hand and clears her head.
Reese Witherspoon.
For a second, Marcia isn’t sure she heard correctly. In her head, she had convinced herself so completely that Felicity was going to win that hearing another name throws her. But sure enough, it is Reese who rises out of her seat, kissing her husband and taking to the stage.
“I can’t believe it. I just…can’t believe it.”
Eva is crestfallen. She had also been convinced of the certainty of Felicity’s win. Felicity does indeed look every inch the gracious loser. Marcia knows enough to see disappointment shining in those blue eyes. Her own feelings are less clear to her at the moment. She is numb. She feels slight niggles of emotion that will mostly likely explode into sensation at some point in the near future, so she revels in the current numbness.
*****
Eva leaves soon after the ceremony draws to a halt. On her way out she is still complaining about Felicity’s loss and that ‘Brokeback Mountain’ didn’t win ‘Best Picture’. Marcia makes agreeing noises. But in her cynical heart, she knows that movies that say ‘Racism is bad’ are always going to be more Academy friendly than movies that say ‘It’s OK to be a gay cowboy’.
She kisses Eva on the cheek as she leaves and tells her to have good time. Then she closes the door and leans back against it, hearing the silence echo through her house. That’s it, the decision has been made for her. She won’t tell Felicity anything and will carry on as normal. She had thought that this result would bring her relief. After all, she’s spent most of her life pretending. But part of her is desperately disappointed that she’ll never get the chance to know how it might feel to be loved back.
She goes to the kitchen and busies herself with putting the wine glasses in the dishwasher and wiping down the surfaces. Her cell phone rings, startling her. She is even more surprised to see ‘Flicka’ on the caller-id.
“Hey.”
“Hey. So, I didn’t win.”
“I know, I watched. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
“Ah, you win some, you lose some.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“The bathroom at the Kodak theatre…it’s a madhouse out there, I had to come in here to get away from everybody.”
“Wow, nobody’s ever called me from the bathroom of the Academy Awards before. I’m touched.”
“Yeah, well, that’s one of the many perks of knowing an Oscar nominated actress.”
Marcia laughs, she can picture Felicity’s face as she says that.
“Really, what are the other perks?”
“I’ll share my goody-bag with you. Honestly, you could feed a small country with the stuff they give away here, it’s ridiculous.”
“So I suppose you’ll be donating yours to charity, huh?”
“Now, I don’t believe I said that.”
Marcia smiles. Neither of them speaks for a long moment, companionable silence floats over the phone line.
“Listen, what are you doing tomorrow? I know you’re not down to shoot anything, and I have the day off and I just thought we could maybe get together?”
Marcia is surprised by the invitation.
“I…I’m not doing anything in particular…I thought you’d be spending the day with Bill and the kids.”
“Well if I’d won I…doesn’t matter…d’you want to meet me for lunch? I have something to…I need to talk to you about something.”
The sentence sounds very familiar to Marcia. It’s a variation on a theme she’s gone over a hundred times in her mind. Something akin to hope springs up in Marcia’s chest and she fights it down.
“Sure, we can do lunch. Sounds serious.”
She expects Felicity to disagree, to say it’s nothing. She doesn’t.
“It could well be.”
Hope continues to fight with fear for dominance.
“Oh.”
“So…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up around twelve-ish.”
“So I should expect you around one-thirty?”
Felicity laughs.
“Yeah, around then.”
“See you tomorrow. Love you.”
It drops out of her mouth, like it has done a million times before, but tonight it seems loaded, potent. Felicity waits just too long before responding.
“Love you too. ‘Night.”
The line goes dead but Marcia still holds the phone to her ear. Her stomach is in turmoil and she’s unsure whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. Is she being delusional? Could Felicity really be going to…no, she shouldn’t even think it. She smiles to herself as she finally remembers how to switch her phone off. Wouldn’t it just be a kicker if Felicity had made the same agreement with herself that Marcia had? Only in reverse.
Now, if that turns out to be the case, Marcia just might start to believe in fate.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The first part of this was written before the Oscars so I really didn't know where I was going to have to take it. As the awards got closer I was pretty much terrified that she would win. :)
AUTHOR: Angie (the_girl_20)
WRITTEN FOR: fox1013
FEEDBACK: scotangelina@yahoo.com
SITE: Girlie Stuff
DISTRIBUTION: Feel free to take this, just let me know where it's gone.
FANDOM: Desperate Housewives RPS
PAIRING: Marcia/Felicity
SUMMARY: ‘If she wins the Oscar, I’ll tell her how I feel.’
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I am not implying that any of this is remotely true. Don’t sue me.
WORD COUNT: 2,834
‘If she wins the Oscar, I’ll tell her how I feel.’
The decision was relatively easy to make. It came to her all of a sudden one day at work. She hasn’t wavered from it since making her mind up. It is oddly liberating, to have the power taken out of her hands. Generally, she’s not one to leave things to chance, she certainly doesn’t believe in fate or destiny. But, after wrestling with her feelings for over a year, it’s something of a relief to throw it to the wind and let some higher power dictate the course of her life.
It is also terrifying.
In this case, the ‘higher power’ in question is the ‘The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’. Not, perhaps, everyone’s deity of choice, but it seems to be perversely fitting to her life.
Marcia reckons that she’s giving herself a 50/50 chance. There’s no question that the Best Actress competition is a two horse race this year. Every pundit agrees, it’s either going to be Reese Witherspoon or Felicity. If she had been thinking of propositioning, say, Keira Knightly, then the whole thing would definitely have been a mockery. But as it stand, she feels that it could go either way. And in all honesty, she isn’t sure whether she hopes that Felicity will win or that she will lose.
If the awards were to be determined by talent alone, there is no doubt in her mind that she would be declaring her love come Oscar night. Even taking into account her own probable bias, Felicity’s immense gift is undeniable. No matter the character she is playing, she always brings warmth and heart to it, forcing you to feel and care far more than if the same character were played by a lesser actress. Viewing the film had unsettled Marcia considerably. So complete was the transformation that she had to remind herself she was watching Felicity on a number of occasions. Felicity didn’t need prosthetics and make-up to become a character. Her performance was subtle and nuanced and startling. For someone so wholly feminine to be able to understand how femininity can be elusive and awkward for someone seeking it. For a woman utterly comfortable and confident in her body to look as if it suddenly didn’t quite fit her any more was a wonder to behold. Yes, if they gave out Oscars for talent, Felicity deserved an armful. They could start by reclaiming Gwyneth’s.
Although the decision has largely been taken away from her, it doesn’t stop her pondering the pros and cons of both possible outcomes. She knows them by heart.
She could lose the best friendship she’s ever experienced. She could break up a loving family. She could live forever pining away and wondering what might have been. She could continue to love Felicity from afar and enjoy every stolen moment and innocent touch.
She has never allowed herself to get this close before. Ever since she was a teenager, she’s exercised restraint in her relationships with other women. She has never been touchy-feely or over-demonstrative. Until recently. Until Felicity came along, with her warm hands and her strong hugs. It had been very easy to let herself fall into the habit of touching. A hug to say hello, a kiss to say goodbye. An arm around a waist, a head on a shoulder, hands intertwined.
Occasionally Marcia would see pictures of herself with Felicity and would cringe. She looked like a lovesick teenager. Wrapped so tightly around Felicity that it was a wonder the poor woman could breathe. But then she started to notice that Felicity looked just as happy, and was holding her just as tightly. And she began to wonder.
Then the damn rumours had started. The rumours she’d spent her entire professional life trying to avoid. At first she had been aghast. Where had they come from? Who knew? Then she realised that it was all just speculation, and possibly wishful thinking. All she had to do was to smile and deny it. And she’d done that for long enough anyway, she was an expert. But Felicity never once asked her about it. The others had skirted around the issue, and Eva had come straight out with it. Eva was a tabloid fiend, so gossip of this magnitude would have been impossible for her not to mention. She’d answered their questions and accepted their platitudes with some semblance of a smile. But Felicity was the one who came to her trailer, the one who held her as she cried, the one who never asked any questions. Maybe she didn’t want to hear the answers, the lies.
If only Felicity hadn’t kissed her. She could have gone on with her life not knowing how it felt to kiss her. But she does. Every second of it is seared into her memory. She remembers how Felicity’s hand felt in hers, steadying her shaking one. She remembers her surprise when Felicity turned to her, a hand touching her cheek, hips moving against her own. She will never forget the first touch of their lips together. Marcia has always scoffed at romantic clichés, but in that first second, the whole world did truly seem to drop away and she forgot that she was on a stage, in front of hundreds of people. There was only herself and Felicity and the moment.
They never really spoke about it afterwards. It was the first time Marcia felt awkward in Felicity’s company. She wanted to ask her why she’d done it. If she liked it. Did she want to do it again? But she never did ask. And they never did it again. Marcia had been worried that it would affect their friendship. But it didn’t. Felicity was as affectionate as ever, maybe even more so.
Marcia stood back and watched as Felicity finally got some recognition. Before the Emmys, Marcia had been thoroughly sickened by the press speculation on whether herself or Teri would win. There was no mention of Felicity. And when Felicity’s name was announced Marcia literally couldn’t have been happier if she’d won herself. She’d cried right along with her and watched from the sidelines as Felicity finally stepped into the limelight she deserved.
Felicity appears to be on a winning streak of late, adding a Golden Globe and a SAG award to her Emmy. So maybe the odds are stacked in Marcia’s favour. Or stacked against her, depending on her mood when she thinks about it. Whatever the announcer says when he opens the Best Actress envelope on Oscar night, Marcia will honour the agreement she has made with herself.
‘If she wins the Oscar, I’ll tell her how I feel.’
*****
Oscar night arrives far more quickly than it has any right to. Marcia is half-listening to Eva’s constant stream of chatter. She is still somewhat annoyed that Eva had announced to the world that they would be watching the ceremony together, in bed. She knows that Eva meant no harm by it, but it irks her that Eva can go around making a flippant comment like that without the tabloid vultures diving on it, ripping out every headline possible. It’s fine to be young, beautiful and rabidly heterosexual and make ambiguous comments, because that titillates the male population. It is not alright to be forty-something, unconventionally attractive and homosexual. Period.
They are not in bed. They are in Marcia’s living room. Eva is wearing an outfit that clearly denotes that she has plans for after the ceremony that do not involve Marcia. And Marcia is just fine with that. She will have to deal with whatever the Best Actress announcement brings with it, and Eva does not factor into that.
The ‘Red Carpet’ pre-show starts and Eva squeals in excitement. Marcia tips her head back and finishes off her glass of wine, she has a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.
They watch the nominees arrive and get interviewed, Eva ventures opinions on all of the dresses, Marcia nods and drinks wine. Then they see her. Marcia expects to have to tell Eva to shut the hell up, but, other than a sharp intake of breath, she is surprisingly silent.
Marcia can’t draw her eyes away from the television even for a second to check whether or not Eva has fainted from the excitement of it all. She is transfixed, as she always is when Felicity is on the screen. She is a goddess in black. Marcia watches as she reaches back for Bill, drawing his arm around her waist. A pang of jealousy makes her chest ache as Felicity’s eyes close when Bill leans in to place a kiss on her temple.
A sense of panic starts to settle in. How can she even be considering harming that picture of happiness? Why for one second should she believe that Felicity would leave Bill for her? What the hell is she thinking?
Eva hands her another glass of wine and she takes a long drink, hoping for mental anaesthesia, at least until the ceremony starts. Bill and Felicity begin their journey up the long red carpet and once again Marcia can breathe as Felicity disappears from the screen.
“She’s so gorgeous, isn’t she?”
For the first time that night, Marcia is in complete agreement with Eva’s opinion.
She drifts into the kitchen to get snacks and get herself under control. She’s a nervous wreck and not drunk enough to compensate. She leans on the counter for a second, taking deep breaths.
“Marcia! Come quick, they’re interviewing her!”
She races through in time to hear Felicity describe her gown buying process. She barely hears the words, all she can think about is how excited Felicity seems to be there and how happy that makes her feel. She is proud and thrilled and excited and terrified. She knows she’s going to collapse in a heap when the nervous energy wears off. Then the interviewer introduces the messages they had filmed earlier in the week. Teri and Nicolette are shown first, their message is cute and funny and Marcia finds herself smiling affectionately as Felicity laughs.
Now it’s Marcia and Eva. Eva shrieks something unintelligible and Marcia slaps her arm. Marcia doesn’t look at herself, or at Eva, only at Felicity. The joy on her face is evident, as is the fact that she is very near tears. Matching tears spring to Marcia’s eyes as she watches Felicity try to keep her mascara intact. As Felicity struggles to find words to sum up how the messages made her feel, Marcia wipes her own eyes.
“She totally liked ours better, right? I mean, it was obvious.”
And again, Marcia has to agree. The first message made Felicity smile, the second had moved her to tears. Marcia isn’t sure how that makes her feel, she knows that she shares a special friendship with Felicity that goes beyond those shared by the other cast members, but does that really give her the right to go around declaring her undying love and hoping to have it reciprocated?
*****
She spends the first couple of hours of the ceremony completely distracted. She doesn’t have a clue who wins what, if they were deserving, what they said. She sits and turns possibilities over and over in her head and gets more and more nervous as the end of the ceremony draws near.
The usually interminable speeches speed by at an alarming rate and before she knows where she is, the announcer is introducing Jamie Foxx. She draws her breath in and tries to quell the wave of nausea that sweeps over her, resulting in a light sheen of sweat on her face. Eva reaches over and grips her hand tighter than necessary. She is grateful for the slight distraction the pain brings. Her heart jumps when Felicity’s name is read out as a nominee. Marcia smiles as Felicity performs the required ‘flattered and modest’ routine, they had practised it together in Felicity’s trailer earlier in the week, along with the gracious loser act:: smiling, nodding and clapping.
When the envelope is opened and the card is drawn out, Marcia thinks that she really might faint. Eva squeezes her hand and clears her head.
Reese Witherspoon.
For a second, Marcia isn’t sure she heard correctly. In her head, she had convinced herself so completely that Felicity was going to win that hearing another name throws her. But sure enough, it is Reese who rises out of her seat, kissing her husband and taking to the stage.
“I can’t believe it. I just…can’t believe it.”
Eva is crestfallen. She had also been convinced of the certainty of Felicity’s win. Felicity does indeed look every inch the gracious loser. Marcia knows enough to see disappointment shining in those blue eyes. Her own feelings are less clear to her at the moment. She is numb. She feels slight niggles of emotion that will mostly likely explode into sensation at some point in the near future, so she revels in the current numbness.
*****
Eva leaves soon after the ceremony draws to a halt. On her way out she is still complaining about Felicity’s loss and that ‘Brokeback Mountain’ didn’t win ‘Best Picture’. Marcia makes agreeing noises. But in her cynical heart, she knows that movies that say ‘Racism is bad’ are always going to be more Academy friendly than movies that say ‘It’s OK to be a gay cowboy’.
She kisses Eva on the cheek as she leaves and tells her to have good time. Then she closes the door and leans back against it, hearing the silence echo through her house. That’s it, the decision has been made for her. She won’t tell Felicity anything and will carry on as normal. She had thought that this result would bring her relief. After all, she’s spent most of her life pretending. But part of her is desperately disappointed that she’ll never get the chance to know how it might feel to be loved back.
She goes to the kitchen and busies herself with putting the wine glasses in the dishwasher and wiping down the surfaces. Her cell phone rings, startling her. She is even more surprised to see ‘Flicka’ on the caller-id.
“Hey.”
“Hey. So, I didn’t win.”
“I know, I watched. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
“Ah, you win some, you lose some.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“The bathroom at the Kodak theatre…it’s a madhouse out there, I had to come in here to get away from everybody.”
“Wow, nobody’s ever called me from the bathroom of the Academy Awards before. I’m touched.”
“Yeah, well, that’s one of the many perks of knowing an Oscar nominated actress.”
Marcia laughs, she can picture Felicity’s face as she says that.
“Really, what are the other perks?”
“I’ll share my goody-bag with you. Honestly, you could feed a small country with the stuff they give away here, it’s ridiculous.”
“So I suppose you’ll be donating yours to charity, huh?”
“Now, I don’t believe I said that.”
Marcia smiles. Neither of them speaks for a long moment, companionable silence floats over the phone line.
“Listen, what are you doing tomorrow? I know you’re not down to shoot anything, and I have the day off and I just thought we could maybe get together?”
Marcia is surprised by the invitation.
“I…I’m not doing anything in particular…I thought you’d be spending the day with Bill and the kids.”
“Well if I’d won I…doesn’t matter…d’you want to meet me for lunch? I have something to…I need to talk to you about something.”
The sentence sounds very familiar to Marcia. It’s a variation on a theme she’s gone over a hundred times in her mind. Something akin to hope springs up in Marcia’s chest and she fights it down.
“Sure, we can do lunch. Sounds serious.”
She expects Felicity to disagree, to say it’s nothing. She doesn’t.
“It could well be.”
Hope continues to fight with fear for dominance.
“Oh.”
“So…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up around twelve-ish.”
“So I should expect you around one-thirty?”
Felicity laughs.
“Yeah, around then.”
“See you tomorrow. Love you.”
It drops out of her mouth, like it has done a million times before, but tonight it seems loaded, potent. Felicity waits just too long before responding.
“Love you too. ‘Night.”
The line goes dead but Marcia still holds the phone to her ear. Her stomach is in turmoil and she’s unsure whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. Is she being delusional? Could Felicity really be going to…no, she shouldn’t even think it. She smiles to herself as she finally remembers how to switch her phone off. Wouldn’t it just be a kicker if Felicity had made the same agreement with herself that Marcia had? Only in reverse.
Now, if that turns out to be the case, Marcia just might start to believe in fate.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The first part of this was written before the Oscars so I really didn't know where I was going to have to take it. As the awards got closer I was pretty much terrified that she would win. :)