Maggie wasn’t always Maggie.

Maggie was just who she became in order to hide.

You can’t find a butterfly if you’re only looking for a caterpillar.

As soon as she is reunited with Aimee, Maggie will go back to being who she was before.

Fifty-nine

A meeting with my agent is something I could really do without today, but Tony was quite insistent on the phone and said it couldn’t wait. I don’t think I’m looking my best, but perhaps that doesn’t matter anymore. The dress Jack bought for me isn’t something I would ever have picked out for myself. The figure-hugging plum material is flattering, I suppose, a little more revealing than the sort of thing I normally wear. My hair has dried into its natural curls and I’m not wearing any makeup, because it is all still at my house, and I daren’t go back there anytime soon.

I walk into the restaurant and see him straightaway. Tony eats out a lot, and he has a favorite table everywhere he goes. He’s reading the menu, even though he always chooses what he is going to eat beforehand, and he looks a little stressed.

He’s going to dump me.

I’m sure of it this time, and I don’t even blame him after everything that has happened. Nobody will want to work with an actress accused of murder. Maybe this is what agents do when they decide not to represent you anymore—take you out for a slap-up meal to soften the blow. Just as I start to back away towards the exit, he looks up from the menu and sees me. I’ve left it too late to run away.

“How are you?” he asks as I sit down. He looks genuinely concerned, and I’m not sure how to answer. He carries on speaking without waiting for one, but I’m still thinking about the question. The truth is, I’ve never felt this close to oblivion before. I’ve never let myself. I’ve never let life break me, despite all the numerous occasions when it has tried so hard to. I’m proud of myself for that. Proud for staying strong, at least on the outside. The armor I’ve worn to hide what’s on the inside has grown heavy over the years, weighing me down, so that it has become increasingly difficult to pick myself back up. People are always so jealous of me, but they wouldn’t be if they knew the life I’d had to live to get the one I lead now.

“… so, I thought we could just have lunch and see what happens?” says Tony, as I tune back in to what he is saying. My tired mind has wandered again, leaving both me and it a little lost.

“Lunch?” They make great chips here, but I think I’m too anxious to eat.

“Yes, that’s right, lunch. You look like you’ve lost weight, but you do still eat, don’t you?”

“I thought you were dumping me.”

He frowns. “Why would I do that?”

“I let you down.”

He shakes his head. “You didn’t let me down, and besides, I’ve told you before, all publicity is good publicity. I’ve had seven scripts offering you lead roles just this morning. Even JJ’s people have been in touch.”

I came close to working with JJ last year and was so excited, but then it didn’t happen.

“I thought JJ said no?”

“I guess he’s changed his mind. Four of the scripts that have been sent are worth you reading. I have a favorite, but, as always, I’ll let you decide. I expect all this is the reason Fincher moved the meeting forward.”

“Forward to when?”

“Lunch. Here. Now. Have you been listening to anything I have been saying?”

I stare down at the unfamiliar dress and see my hands resting on my lap, my unpolished nails reflecting my entire current appearance. I remember my messy hair and missing makeup. I’ve wanted to meet this man forever, but this isn’t how I imagined it. I haven’t rehearsed, I don’t know what to say …

“I can’t have lunch with Fincher now!”

“Yes, you can. Take the leap, Aimee. You’ll only fall if you forget you can fly.”

Sixty

Maggie feels as if she is falling.

Time is running away from her and she’s no longer sure she can catch up. She’s worked so hard, for so long, to make things right. She deserves for things to go back to how they should always have been. It’s what would have been best for both of them; she just has to make Aimee see that. She can’t wait any longer for the girl to figure things out for herself. Maggie turns the final page of her Aimee Sinclair album, having reread all the newspaper and magazine clippings she has collected over the years. It was almost full anyway, perhaps it is time after all.

The shade Maggie has spent her life hiding in just got darker. She can feel it, the lump inside her chest. She has a pain there now that she never noticed before, as though she were always able to feel the cancer growing inside her, but pretended not to. We all avoid the truth when we think it might hurt too much. She feels the lump with her finger, not knowing how she could have missed it when showering; it’s huge. She feels a sharp pain and pulls her hand away, realizing that this particular discomfort is in her finger, not her chest. The splinter from the firewood is still buried beneath her skin, despite several attempts to remove it. She’s read about how splinters can travel through the bloodstream, all the way to the heart and kill a person. She doesn’t know if that’s true, but she doesn’t want to risk it.

She stands in front of the bathroom mirror and pulls at the pink skin with a pair of tweezers. She makes her finger bleed, but she still can’t get the damn thing out. Her reflection distracts her from the discomfort, and she notices some tiny black hairs have sprouted from her chin. She starts to pluck at them instead, getting some small satisfaction each time she successfully removes one at the root. Extracting pleasure from the pain.

She wants to look her best this evening.

She can see from the mobile phone tracker app that Aimee is eating out somewhere special tonight, as though she has something to celebrate. She checked Aimee’s emails and has read the three latest ones sent by her agent.

Maggie does not want Aimee to be in another film.

That is not part of the plan.

She’s heard of the restaurant Aimee is at; it’s the kind of place that requires a booking several months in advance, unless you are someone like Aimee. Or Jack Anderson. So Maggie knows she needs to dress the part.

She puts on Aimee’s old trench coat, fastening the teeny tiny belt around the slim waist she has worked so hard to achieve. Then she blots her red lipstick one last time, with a piece of quilted toilet tissue, before admiring her reflection. She puts on her sunglasses, despite the fact that it is already dark outside, and leaves the flat. Maggie has thought a lot lately about whether grief was a price worth paying for love, and has decided that it was. Love is all Maggie has ever wanted, and she’s going to get it, regardless of what it will cost her.

Sixty-one

“Cheers!”

“Here’s to you,” Jack replies, clinking his champagne glass with mine. “I want to hear more about the meeting. I want to know everything. Every single word he said.”

I laugh. “No, I don’t want to jinx it. I think the lunch went well, and now we’ll just have to wait and see whether I get the part.”