Keeping Faith
Apr. 1st, 2007 12:43 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliKeeping Faith
BY Imogen
Disclaimer: Don’t know them, don’t sue, ‘kay?
Summary: Trust in yourself, and your heart
Notes: This is the third instalment of the ‘Freya universe’ from Viggo’s POV, as before there’s a handwritten version available at my LJ
Note 2: This is technically the end of the series, but I’m thinking of doing a sort of epilogue which is set further in the future when Freya is fully grown up. If you’d like to read that, please let me know!
Feedback: Please send some!
***~~~***
Love tends to screw up our plans. It certainly screwed up mine, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
I never intended to fall in love with Orlando, it just happened. So much has happened in my life, especially since I met Orlando that I did not intend, and for that I can only be thankful.
Everyone knows the background story of my landing the role of Aragorn, and how Henry cajoled me into it. They know now how Orlando and I got together on set, although a lot evidence, photos and such of the ‘Chronicles of VigOrli’, as a couple of Hobbits have named us, will always remain private. They are too valuable to share with the world.
Some people like to think of mine and Orli’s love as a romance story; boy meets older-crusty boy, they fall in love and much bunny-shagging (you’ve gotta love how Orli phrases things) occurs and everything is happy with lots of rainbows.
Only we know love, like everything in life, it was more complex than that. I’ve never believed in love at first sight. Yes, even though I’m in love and have been for a long time, I still don’t believe in it. Call me a cynic.
Love takes time to develop, it’s the most complex emotion in my opinion, and not something that can be rushed into, or that suddenly happens.
There can be an instant attraction, lust, interest, intrigue and a connection but love, no, not love. Despite what certain parties would try and tell you Orlando and I weren’t shagging within a day or even a week of meeting. I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, least of all someone like Orlando. That’s not to say I was worried about being with another man. It wasn’t something new to me, and although I have been genuinely attracted to women, I’ve always leaned slightly more towards men. I refused to let myself even consider a relationship with Orlando at first. Mostly out of fear, it has to be said. I used every logical argument; he was too young, too beautiful, too inexperienced, too energetic – I’m sure you get the picture. Really it simply boiled down to one thing.
Fear.
Fear that Orlando would simply see me as a fuck buddy, or worse, as a horny old man. Fear that he saw me only as a friend, but nothing more. Fear that I was some sort of experiment (although I knew that was completely against Orlando’s nature) or that he would reject me completely. I convinced myself not to pursue a relationship with him, which was sheer hell. You might’ve guessed Orlando is tactile. He’s affectionate, naturally open and loving with people he cares about. It’s an amazing thing to see – and feel…..around Orlando, to feel so loved. Unfortunately, it played havoc with my libido. All those touches, smiles, stroking.
I owe my son more than I can ever repay for nagging me to take the role. It has given me some of the best friends I could ever hope for, experiences I will treasure forever and a husband and daughter who I treasure more than my own life. That I also treasure my son goes without saying.
I was 42 when I reluctantly took on the mantel of Aragorn. That is something I could certainly relate to with the character; reluctant king – reluctant actor. Like Orlando, I figured I had my life in order. I knew where I was going. I wasn’t an A-list actor, I had no desire to be, because it meant I could pursue my other loves with equal passion. I don’t like to limit myself to one medium of art. It’s not in my nature. I was leading a comfortable existence, of which Henry was the centre. I hadn’t had a serious relationship in three years. My divorce from Exene had been finally been finalised a little over a year ago, and despite our years of separation we were good friends, so I wasn’t nursing a broken heart. But still, I had no desire to go charging into a new relationship, or even crawling into one, as much for Henry’s sake as mine. Fortunately, a skinny Mohawked Brit had other ideas.
That’s not to say Orlando dragged me into a relationship kicking and screaming, quite the opposite in fact. That’s not the sort of person he is. He’s too polite for his own good sometimes. What I mean to say is that I’ve got eyes, and as anyone will attest who knows Orlando, he is extremely difficult to resist. Even Sean admitted that, and he’s straighter than a flagpole. Of course, he swore he’d ‘murder my arse’ if I ever divulged that information. It doesn’t help that the bastard isn’t above pouting, which at his age should look ridiculous, yet somehow doesn’t for him. The rules never seem to apply to Orli. *sigh*
It’s not like Orlando is an unscrupulous or conniving person, if he was, he wouldn’t be as good as getting his own way if he was. I sometimes wonder what he’d be able to achieve, or even more worrying, what he’d get people to do if he really tried. Sometimes hard enough to not give Orlando the last piece of dessert.
Despite various threats from our friends over the years, I feel truly blessed to know each of them, insane as they are. They are family to me, and I know that without their scheming and at times, brutal honesty, Orlando and I probably wouldn’t have lasted.
I don’t mean to imply that we don’t love each other enough not to fight for our love (and I am aware that that sounds Medieval), but trying to manage a relationship, even a private one, in the glare of Hollywood is no easy task. I always knew Orlando would be famous, right from those early days in Rings. The callous or cynical among us would say it was his looks. There is no doubt that his features may kept him in Hollywood’s attention, but there is more than that.
Hollywood is built on beautiful people. There are hundreds of handsome men in Hollywood, big time actors, or those waiting for their ‘big break’ What his critics forget, or tend to ignore is that when Orlando was picked out by Peter, hundreds of beautiful people had auditioned for Legolas. Orlando had no connections to rely on, his beauty just one of hundreds, he really got that part on his talent. He was completely unknown, fresh out of a British drama school.
Peter wouldn’t have risked using a ‘pretty face’ in his masterpiece. If he wanted that, he could have easily chosen some other actor, someone who’d made a name for themselves, but he didn’t.
Good directors are good judges of character, they look beyond the physical. That’s what Peter did. It’s what Cameron Crowe, Ridley Scott and Steven Spielberg all did, and every other director that’s hired him. They’re all amazing directors; they don’t hire people without talent. The fact that Ridley has had him working on three films, actually a fourth if Ridley gets his way in the casting of his latest, which I know he will, and that says something in this business, Ridley isn’t the sort to hire non-talent.
But Orlando is different. He’s one of the few people I know who is truly beautiful. I suppose that sounds strange considering there are so many beautiful people in the business, but it’s not. Any actor can be made to look beautiful. Lighting, make-up, airbrushing, it all adds up. But Orlando…you take away all that, all the fancy clothes, the professional smile (yes we all have one) you can put him in the most ordinary of jeans and a t-shirt and he is still beautiful. He’s beautiful because his soul shines through him. He has this amazing blend of innocence and worldliness that’s impossible to express. He’s in love with life, treasures every second of it, the way only surviving a potentially fatal injury can. Even though it happened before I met him, it still makes my blood run cold to think how easily he could’ve died or ended up paralyzed. That we managed to meet, let alone fall in love between his would-be fatal injury and my reluctance for the role is somewhat of a miracle. I won’t talk about that anymore, I know Orlando hates to talk about it. I can’t say I blame him. Unfortunately, he’s had to talk too much about it; it’s the sort of thing that fascinates people, in a rather morbid way.
I sometimes wonder how Orlando’s, or my, life would have been if we’d never met. I have no doubt Orlando would have found someone to love him. Maybe a woman who he’d have beautiful children with. I sometimes wonder how much criticism of Orlando’s acting is levelled at him because he’s with me. Perhaps that’s egotistical on my part. It pains me that the critics have warmed to me more over the years, and yet Orlando….
He’s not reviled by the critics, a lot of them now truly respect him as an actor, not only because he’s an Oscar Winner but because he’s worked his ass off to prove himself. Their stinging criticisms only made him more determined. That’s one of the things I admire so much about my husband, he’s a fighter. He’s had so many obstacles thrown in his path and yet has never given up. He might not think he’s done anything remarkable but he has, by just being here, by surviving. That is what true courage is. I sometimes wish I could have that courage about life (Orlando charmingly refers to it as ‘pig-headedness’)
I’m sometimes amazed we’ve lasted this long, for all Hollywood’s parading of it’s Golden Couples, most do not seem to be able to last ten years. I think some people still can’t come to grips that Jen’N’Brad are over even after all these years. I don’t mean to come off as smug or snarky, but it’s something I feel much pride in. That we’ve lasted all this time, we’ve fought to stay together. There aren’t columnists gushing about us. We don’t fit into that mould. Tabloids like to try and mention us, we’re their ‘token gay couple’ as Orlando scathingly refers to it, but I think they’re getting bored of us walking the dogs or buying milk. At least I hope so anyway. They’re nothing duller than watching other people’s lives, or maybe I’m just being optimistic about the whole thing.
We’ve always kept our relationship quiet, even after we stopped hiding. We turn up to each other’s films, gallery exhibitions and such, but we also got to PTA meetings, always very amusing affairs, and food shopping together. We go to Freya’s school performances, on the rare occasion her friends persuade her to sing publicly. She normally only sings when she thinks others can’t hear her. I never understand why she tries to hide her talent; she’s vocal enough in everyday life.
We walk the dogs with Freya and Hank, when he’s around. Do boring couple stuff, live our lives as any normal couple does. What makes people want to read about that mystifies me.
We don’t put on a PR effect for show. If I don’t smile at a premiere all night, people can think what they want. I could have toothache or had a row with Orlando but I would never admit to either.
I never wanted to be part of a ‘picture perfect’ couple. I never had that with Exene, and if I had tried, she probably would’ve got the crap kicked out of me. Besides Exene would never have fitted into the ‘housewife’ role. Having said that, I have no doubt Orlando would look beautiful in a frilly pink apron. Not that I’d ever dare say that to his face that is. Freya says I’d sign my death warrant – or at least risk a long period of enforced abstinence if I did, which frankly is more terrifying than death to my mind.
To be such an integral part of Orlando’s life is a privilege I will never take for granted. I know, certainly in the early years of our relationship Orlando looked to me for advice, listened to my opinions. He seemed to be under a misapprehension that I was some sort of unflappable guru, it took him a while to realise I was just as lost, frustrated and confused as everyone else, I just disguised them in forms of art. I think in a strange way that helped ease some of his own insecurities about whether we would last.
I suppose there will always be a low-level interest in us. Not many same sex couples in the public eye have children. In some ways it makes us sitting ducks for public and press scrutiny. I know sectors of society are disgusted; think we’re hell-bound or some such crap. I can handle what they say. I’ve always believed in the freedom of speech, that people abuse it is something I have to accept.
Most days I can handle the intrusion into our lives, and by intrusion I don’t mean it’s always a paparazzi. It can be an article or interview…they impinge on our lives as well. I’m an adult, I chose my career in the public eye and that’s fine, but when people start commenting on my lifestyle and my family; that is different.
Freya never chose to have two fathers, any more than any child gets to choose their parents and it riles me when she’s dragged into a morality discussion that is not her doing. Even worse, some of the bigoted bastards try to compare Henry and Freya’s upbringings, to support their own theories of how essential the ‘real’ family is.
Yes Henry has a mother and a father, and therefore he did not endure the taunting that Freya has, and that does bother me. I love both my children, and it pains me to see either of them hurting. It’s something that some people still find hard to except – that some gay men want children; that children can be raised in a loving home with only one gender of parent. We’re raising a remarkable daughter together, who I have no doubt will become an amazing woman.
My daughter is a gift I never thought I would have. I’d never intended to have more children after Henry, and when I fell in love with Orlando, it seemed a moot point. I was happy with our lives, Henry was growing up. We’d planned to come out when Henry was at university, since then it wouldn’t matter so much to him, he’d be adult enough to handle the exposure. College people tend to be more liberal minded, and with Exene’s methods of upbringing, Henry was well equipped to deal with any taunts headed his way. So more children certainly wasn’t something I’d considered. In hindsight I suppose that was stupid of me.
I saw how Orlando was with children. He has a natural bond with them. He spoiled Milo rotten when he saw him. Lily-Rose and Jack always got presents when he saw Johnny, as did Klaus and Sophie with Eric. It didn’t help that articles always seemed to pin Orlando down on the children issue. I remember after one incident when Orlando was out with Sidi and a couple of paparazzi kept harassing Orlando with questions about why he was still ‘single status’ – why didn’t he have a girlfriend? Did he plan to have children, was he the father of his co-star’s recently announced pregnancy…I was so pissed when I heard about that. Especially when Orlando ended up crying himself to sleep that night, although whether they were tears of fury or sadness I wasn’t sure. I think it was only then that I realised how much the children issue was bothering him.
When I’d first got together with Orlando, I’d made a promise to myself to do anything to make him happy, as long as it didn’t involve mass murder or wearing spandex. That whole incident made me really think. I was approaching fifty, and although I had a few years to go, I wasn’t sure that fatherhood was something I was ready to embark on again. But I also knew how much joy being a father had brought to me. I saw how much Sean, Eric and Johnny revelled in fatherhood and I knew it would be selfish of me to refuse Orlando what I’d already experienced.
Things changed when I proposed to Orlando. We’d been together for ten, almost eleven years and I felt it was past time to make it official, at least in the eyes of the government. We’d had a commitment celebration a few years previously; an extremely private affair with only our family and the Fellowship present, although by this time Johnny and Eric seemed to have wormed their way into the Inner Circle, in Denmark.
I’d also forced, or cajoled Robin-the-pit bull into clamping down any potential leaks to the press about either the commitment ceremony or the wedding. On those two occasions she proved extremely efficient, perhaps because I was so forceful about it. Orlando says I can have quite a commanding presence when I try. Where he gets that from, I’ve no idea. But this was important. I wanted something special for just us, and more especially for Orlando, without the media intruding in on us. I didn’t want to share this with the world.
We married in England, two months after I proposed. It only made the papers a week after the wedding. The media world seemed scandalised by this, and no end of lucrative offers poured out to get our wedding photos. Unfortunately for them, the only evidence they got of our wedding, was the gold bands we wore at the premiere of Orlando’s film three weeks later. I felt a small amount of pride about that.
I think Robin was ready to burst a blood vessel when we told her about the wedding. She’d never bothered to hide her distaste at me. I don’t think it was homophobia on her part, she just would’ve preferred someone more….Hollywood, who could fit into the image of the Hollywood star she’d tried so hard to cultivate in Orlando. She might’ve been brilliant at her job, but she had no compunction about turning Orlando into a mindless mannequin to put him at the ‘top of his league’ and in saying that I would only ‘drag him down’, if he stayed with me. Charming.
I think her hissy-fit about the wedding was the last straw for Orlando. He fired her. Frankie came at Johnny’s recommendation, and while she’s about as tactful as Simon Cowell (yes, shockingly, I do have knowledge of pop culture, though I’m sure Hank and Freya would die rather than admit it), she’s fiercely protective of Orlando, and God help you if you cross her.
Orlando’s always known his career had come with certain pitfalls. He had to sacrifice his privacy to a degree, which may not sound a lot, but believe me, anonymity is something most celebrities would revel in given the chance. He’s lost friends along they way who couldn’t handle the intrusion every time they met with Orlando. He’s had his acting abilities and his physical appearance mocked by actors and critics he has never met or worked with. That’s something I’ve noticed. I cannot recall a single actor who was worked with Orlando, who has criticised him on or off the record, either on a professional or personal front. That says a lot more than any criticism in my opinion.
I won’t go into all the details about how we decided to have Freya. I don’t wish to go into details about my daughter’s conception, it would be a breach of her privacy, and not something that I feel is even relevant.
To my mind, it wouldn’t make a speck of difference whether Freya was our biological daughter, adopted or brought by aliens. She is our child, our daughter, not some experiment or ‘proof’ that we’re ‘normal’
Just like our marriage, news of our daughter spread like wildfire, but we refused any interviews and photo opportunities. We refused to issue a statement about our daughter, or even a name. It was none of the world’s business how we had Freya. Frankie proved even more ruthless than Robin, if that was possible. Only this was in protecting ours and Freya’s privacy, which is something I’ll always be grateful for. I sometimes wonder if she is more like a bodyguard than an agent.
The one incident I will never forget was when Freya was three weeks old, and Orlando had taken her to see Dom and Elijah at their insistence. Somehow the paparazzi had got wind just as he was leaving, and tried to get an interview with Orlando, or at least photos of Freya. Unfortunately for them, Orlando can be fiercely protective of those he loves, and shoved the man away rather roughly when he tried to zoom in on our daughter and made her cry. When the man tried to sue Orlando, I was glad to hear not many people were sympathetic to his plight, especially the judge.
Having been a father again to Freya, it’s made me wish I could have had more children with Orlando. I know he always wanted a large family, to make up for the small one he had growing up, and I can understand that. I did sometimes think when Freya was younger if we should try to give her another brother, or sister, but the time never seemed quite right, and then I felt too old to go through the theatrics of baby and toddler-hood again. I adore Henry and Freya with every fibre of my being and I’d want any other children to have the same attention and love I have been able to give both of them, and with another child, our filming commitments and my ‘advancing age’ it wouldn’t be practical.
Orli insists it doesn’t matter, claiming Freya is still ‘his baby girl’ and we’ll have plenty of time still to watch her grow up, since she won’t be allowed to date until she’s 52, and only then under supervision. This results in a rolling of eyes and a whining “Daaaaaddddddddy” which always manages to make my eardrums ache. I don’t know who to sympathise more for sometimes, my husband or daughter. I think when the time comes for her to date, I’ll convince Henry and Exene to chaperone, that will keep away any unsavoury interest.
I know how much Orli fears for our little girl. Yes, she’s still a little girl to me. Henry too. Except for the girl part, obviously. My point is, all parents still view their children as their babies. Sonia is the same with Orlando, and Sam, much to Orlando’s mortification. He wants to protect Freya – and Henry. There is no distinction between our children in Orlando’s mind. Have I mentioned how much I love him?
Every time Freya cries because of some taunt about her parents, it breaks his heart and mine. One of the hardest things to do is to watch your child hurting and not be able to magic that hurt away. I thought it would be easier with Freya, but it wasn’t. It’s a hard and horrible lesson to learn that each parent has to face: they can’t protect their child from the world.
I can still remember when Freya was about seven, and told us she was going to hell because she had two daddies. Who would be so callous to a child? I remember being torn between sorrow and fury as Orlando held our daughter, trying to reassure her. How do you convince a seven-year old they are not going to hell? Fortunately, that type of bigoted outbreak is rare and Freya is now at an age where she can understand and ignore any taunts. She has an admirable quality not possessed by many teenagers in that she is able to rise above them.
I have no doubt it is hard for her, and I hate that she has to endure such pettiness – although, fortunately, such incidents are rare. Freya likes to dismiss them as ‘emotionally stunted arseholes’ I sometimes wonder where she gets her charming vocabulary. Despite this, I’m under no illusions over how lucky Freya is. Not because she’s the daughter of ‘movie stars’, but because so many people love and care for her. Exene and Henry would kill anyone who hurt her, although I doubt they’d be much left to kill if Orlando got there first. I almost felt sorry for that Luke boy when I heard how he broke my daughter’s heart a few months ago, but hearing how he humiliated her, and remember seeing her cry night after night, he would’ve deserved Orlando’s wrath. Poor Freya was convinced she’d found the love of her life.
As Neanderthal as it sounds, it was gratifying to see Henry and Sean so determined to ‘avenge’ Freya. I do think Henry would’ve been more than willing to use that boy as a punch bag should Freya allowed it.
I’m proud of how Freya handled the situation, I’m not exactly clear what she did, but it gave her and her friends hours of amusement, and a new amount of respect. I’m proud to have such an inventive and self-reliant daughter.
As Henry says, “mess with a Mortensen at your peril.”
I think he may have a point there. We Mortensen’s are a mad breed, as my husband will attest to.
Although I know Orli would’ve relished exerting his own brand of ‘fatherly justice’, perhaps I should be ashamed to admit I’d happily join Orlando on this occasion. No one hurts my daughter.
It still makes me feel bad, every hurt she endures. We took pains to remove her from any sort of Hollywood upbringing, and at least Denmark and England don’t have a gun-totting God fearing Moral Majority to contend with. It would’ve been hell for her in American schools. Henry managed to escape from that, since we didn’t come out while he was at school, but he still got unwanted attention when people bugged him for autographs, or when someone made derogatory comments about Orlando, unknowingly hurting Henry.
I’ve always been thankful that Henry and Orlando are close. They don’t view each other as parent and child, even if Orlando is Hank’s step-father, their relationship is one of equals, something which both Exene and I strived to reach with Henry, but Orlando achieved seemingly effortlessly. I know that’s a lie though. Orlando, as with everything in his life, worked to achieve Hank’s approval. I think strangely Freya’s birth brought him closer to Orlando. We weren’t the only ones besotted with our daughter. I can still remember when Hank insisted on being the first one to hold her. I can only be grateful that Hank and Freya love each other so much. I know full bloodied siblings would don’t love each other like those two do. It’s not many men, whose ex-wife and son would welcome not only a male lover, but also a child from that relationship into their lives.
I’m fully aware of how lucky I am in my life. My husband, children, friends, work – I could not ask for anything more. Yet sometimes, it seems all to easy to forget my blessings, after a long separation from Orlando due to filming schedules (I always swear I will give up acting and concentrate on art, but that’s yet to happen) or on bad days when I want to hide from the world. Just thinking of my family is enough to get me through whatever crisis happens. Hearing Orlando’s voice on the phone, or my daughter’s, it makes any annoyance or discomfort I go through worthwhile. I have already gone through the hell of almost loosing my family once, and that was enough to freeze me to the core and to thank every known deity every day for what I have.
It’s still painful to talk about, even think about, because without Orlando’s determination, I sometimes wonder where I would be now. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, but the fact is Orlando, along with my children, are my life, and being without them is my worst nightmare, as I’m sure it would be for most people. We have those nightmares to remind us how lucky we are. Of course, none of us really think what we would do if our nightmares came true, or at the very least shown a vision of what could come to pass...
I suppose in a twisted way I should thank the bastard who almost cost me my family…but that’s part of the problem. In many ways I’m said bastard. Mr DiMattio would be the other bastard. It would be so easy to blame him for everything, but I can’t because he was simply exploiting a bad situation. I just didn’t realise that our marriage was cracking, or perhaps I did and simply ignored it.
I still hate him for what he tried to do. He didn’t cause the first cracks in our marriage, but he took advantage of the situation, took advantage of a vulnerable Orlando. I hate him for that, for betraying Orlando’s trust. If he had truly loved Orlando, he would have just been a friend to Orlando when his marriage when breaking.
Christian is very much a part of Hollywood elite. His gift for camera work is unique, even I can admit that. Bast had taken him under his wing, nurtured his talent. He’s often called the successor of Annie Leibovitz. Not many can be called that. Regardless of his talent though, I don’t think he ever captured Orlando as beautifully as Bast has. They may be cousins, but they couldn’t love each other more if they were brothers. That love is transfused into every photo he takes of Orlando. Christian missed that love, and it shows.
Of course, I’d heard of Christian DiMattio before the whole situation started. It would be difficult not to. In some ways his career mirrored Orlando in that he seemingly sprang from nowhere to become one of the most in demand photographers. What a lot of people didn’t know was their lives mirrored in more ways than one; they were old friends, and lovers. They’d grown up together, gone to school and Guildhall together, shared secrets, dreams – everything that had made Orlando….Orlando, when I met him. Christian had shared all that.
He would be everyone’s ideal partner. Handsome, educated, well travelled, humorous, courteous.
He made me feel old and run-down. Made me wonder what I was doing at my age with someone as young as Orlando, with a young daughter. Freya should’ve had two young, energetic parents.
When they met it was like they’d never been parted, Orlando’s face was lit with joy at seeing his old friend. He hugged him, kissed his check.
Orlando has a special way of hugging those he truly loves. It’s not just a ‘hug’ with Orlando. Your entire being is enveloped in warmth and love. It’s impossible to describe, but it is amazing. You can feel Orlando’s love and joy come through that hug. He hugged Christian like that.
It’d been months since I felt Orlando’s arms around me like that. I missed them.
I knew they still met up after we’d got together, and Orlando told me that they were now nothing more than friends. I tried to believe him. I’m ashamed to admit I did often wonder if Orlando would cheat on me, he exudes love and affection, and people have taken that the wrong way in the past. Christian didn’t seem to be one of them.
In many ways I only have myself to blame that Christian was able to take advantage of the situation, of Orlando, and yes I do think he took advantage of my husband. Orlando is not naïve but he does look for the best in people. It is an admirable quality that I hope he never looses.
Our problems started before Christian if I’m honest. Perhaps it was the so-called ‘seven year itch’. I wasn’t tiring of Orlando, that would never be possible, but our relationship had changed. I think Orli was aware that Freya wasn’t a baby anymore. She was growing up, challenging us more, and Orlando was finding that difficult.
She was nine, and at school, needing him less and less. It’s a hard blow to a parent when your children begin their first steps to independence. I’d not been on my best behaviour either, if truth be told. Orlando seemed to be constantly either filming or promoting. The time that he was home seemed taken up with looking after Freya. Orlando had always balked at the idea of having a nanny to take care of our daughter. When I’d suggested it a few months back, he hadn’t taken kindly to it.
We started arguing. All the time.
I don’t know what really started us off. We were both unhappy, but like most adults we are we chose to squabble, rather than talk. Things that I’d never noticed before irritated me. We argued over the state of the house. Orlando complained about me leaving paint covered clothes ‘everywhere’ (the studio and our bedroom respectively) he nagged me about keeping the studio door locked, fearing Freya would hurt herself in there. I kept forgetting. Sidi became an irritation, in that he kept jumping up at people. I felt he was completely spoilt and undisciplined. Orlando grew defensive, attacking me, saying least he didn’t take horses to premieres. He said he was surprised I hadn’t made TJ my PA.
This went on for weeks….months….never building to breaking point, but never ebbing away either. I think that’s when I started to worry about my marriage. I’d already been divorced once, my parents are divorced, and I recognized the ‘signals’, and as close as me and Exene still are, I didn’t want this marriage to end in even the most amicable divorce, to be only able to meet Orlando to exchange Freya and attend PTA meetings. But I didn’t seem to be able to stop things.
By the time Orlando told me about the photo shoot I was in a continually irritable mood. Orlando had only just come off a ten month movie, which had been hard on both of us. Even though I’d visited him with Freya on set, we’d barely seemed to spend any time together, since Orlando was perpetually exhausted, and then I’d had to leave a week later for an exhibition.
So when Orlando finally returned home all I wanted some quality time with my husband. Was that such an extraordinary request? It’d been months since we’d made love or really just held each other, and the last thing I wanted was an old lover of his to spend time with him, especially an old lover that was a known seducer. Orlando didn’t take kindly to when I pointed this out. I can’t blame him, in his eyes Christian was a trusted friend. It smarted that Orlando didn’t believe me, but worse that I didn’t trust him. When Orlando left for the photo hoot, I did something I’d never done before. I didn’t kiss him goodbye. I wish I had.
Christian made no effort to hide his preferences, and although technically bisexual, he had a ‘type’ – and that was Orlando. His ‘Lando, his ‘Lan. No one calls him that. Not his friends from childhood, not Bast, Sam or Sonia. No one. He hates the name, yet Christian was allowed. It made Orlando smile, laugh even. Christian made my husband smile when I couldn’t.
That’s when I began to fear I was losing Orlando.
I also got to hear their insidious school nickname. Christian thought it was amusing, but then Christy is less insulting than Whorli. I hate that name. Probably because it reminds me of this time. It speaks to every derogatory insult Orlando has had to endure over the years.
When Orlando invited me to meet Christian, I jumped at the chance, surprising him. I hadn’t expressed any interest or approval in the photo shoot, but I was adamant about keeping an eye on Orlando around Christian, although I told myself it wasn’t about trusting. Orlando had never given me any reason to think he’d even consider an affair, and that included the would-be affair that Orlando was supposed to have had with his very clingy co-star, who’s career was heading for a nose-dive and figured a little publicity stunt would help her out. That has been the one time; I have relished the papers being forced to print a retraction.
I behaved badly from the moment I met Christian, I accept that. I was rude, churlish, and no doubt a complete embarrassment to Orlando. I spent most of the time pretending to read, but trying to watch them.
It was hell.
He was forever touching Orlando. Stroking his hair, kissing his cheek, brushing his lips. Every little thing I’d loved to do to Orlando and hadn’t for months, Christian did without hesitation and Orlando didn’t stop him.
I watched as the sculpture took shape. It was beautiful, just like all of Orlando’s work. He likes to tell people he’s an amateur but his work should be in a gallery, and despite what Orlando thinks, that isn’t the lover in me talking, it’s the artist. I hated that Christian had persuaded Orlando to show the public one of his sculptures, when I had been trying for years. It took Christian less than a hour. I resented that.
I saw how Christian and Orlando laughed with each other. Their mirrored mannerisms, in-jokes between them. I tried to tell myself it was normal between old friends. Former lovers. It didn’t work. I’d distrusted Christian by reputation and rumour before I met him. I don’t rely on background gossip from Hollywood, but I had photographer friends who knew Christian and I trusted them. Perhaps I should’ve trusted Orlando more.
I was convinced Orlando was aware of Christian’s flirtations and simply trying to make me jealous. It worked. I know it was arrogant to assume that, but I wasn’t exactly thinking logically at this point. All I could see was Christian and Orlando together, touching all the time. It was as if I was surrounded by it, drowning almost. Jealousy does that to a person.
Orlando managed to tolerate my behaviour for three days before he confronted me, demanding an explanation. After much cajoling on Orlando’s part, I confessed my fears about Christian, his reputation for seducing his clients and that Orlando was next on the ‘list’. Orlando was furious with me.
You have to understand, out of the two of us, I have the temper. I swear and curse in a multitude of languages; Orlando keeps silent and goes for walks with the dogs. But this time Orlando didn’t keep silent. I suppose I should’ve been expecting Orlando’s reaction. I wouldn’t have taken too kindly to someone suggesting one of my oldest friends was a seducing bastard.
When Orlando called me a jealous child, I’d had enough. I left him. Stormed out the door, like a child having a temper tantrum. I was burning with righteous indignation, and more alcohol than should’ve been healthy.
I’m not normally a drinker, even a social one. But when I’m morose it’s another story. The fact that I can hold my own against even Master Depp should be worrying when it comes to sheer alcoholic consumption, but I didn’t care. For those few days I drank and painted, or at least attempted to. I locked myself away from the real world.
It gave me a sense of moral justification when I refused to speak to Orlando on the phone the next day. By the time Orlando tried to apologise for the third day, any attempted justification had long since worn off, but I stubbornly clung to my injured dignity. After the third day Orlando didn’t ring to apologise, and I didn’t pick up the phone.
All I could think about was Orlando with Christian, wondering if Christian was seducing my husband each night. I tortured myself with endless scenarios, most of which ended in a callous Orlando handing me divorce papers, and taking sole custody of Freya. I’m ashamed to admit that during Orlando’s absence, I mostly locked myself in my studio, often drinking and attempting to paint. If Hank hadn’t been around to look after Freya I don’t know what would’ve happened. I hope that’s something Orlando never finds out.
I can barely admit what happened next. It still shames me to the core even now.
Orlando woke me in my studio, having returned a day earlier than expected. I was in no state to be around Orlando. I’d spent practically three days drinking and letting my resentment simmer. I remember how Orlando practically shuddered when he looked at me.
Upon discovering the reason for Orlando’s unexpected arrival, I asked how much Orlando had been paid to fuck Christian. I felt so ashamed calling my husband a whore but I couldn’t seem to control my tongue.
I’d never said something so crass to anyone. I’d never called Exene a whore when we’d fought, never called Orlando one when he hugged and kissed his friends, because I knew what it meant to Orlando. It didn’t bother me when Johnny and Orlando kissed in greeting, or a hobbit ‘glompped’ him, or Eric’s bear–hugs. Yet the idea of him with Christian, with an ex-lover, caused my world to come crashing down.
I should’ve stopped then, left while I still had a shred of dignity left. What I said had been horribly cruel but I didn’t leave. A part of me wanted a fight, the alcohol had fired me up and I wasn’t ready to back down. I don’t know what I expected from this, all I knew was I wanted to hurt Orlando like I felt he’d hurt me. That Orlando hadn’t meant too was immaterial to me at this point.
I walked into the kitchen, knowing that Orlando would follow me. He never lets an argument fester. Orlando warned me not to wake Freya. I was ashamed that I hadn’t considered that I might wake our daughter. I just hope to God Freya never witnessed our arguments, especially this one. That’s one thing I’d never want her to know. No child deserves to see that.
Orlando informed me that he and Christian hadn’t slept together that night, or any other night since he’d got together with me. Normally I would’ve believed him.
Orlando has always strongly believed in monogamy. So why didn’t I believe him?
That’s when Orlando told me about Christian kissing him. I couldn’t stop the laugh, I tried but I just…couldn’t. I wanted to demand why it had taken a kiss and a blatant attempt at seduction before Orlando had seen what I knew all along. But I just laughed. I still shudder at how ugly that sound was. When Orlando asked about saving our marriage, if only for Freya, I callously replied Freya was his daughter, his responsibility.
That made Orlando lose it. I think he knew I didn’t mean it, I hope so. It was the alcohol, the anger talking, because he turned to leave, and when I grabbed him with more force that I should, demanding to know where he was going, he spat that he was going to get fucked ‘by someone who isn’t you’
I know Orlando said it to hurt me, that he’d never betray me, but it made me see red. Something made me snap.
Without thinking, I did something I swore I would never do.
I hit Orlando. God help me, I hit my husband.
Even before the hit landed, I realised what I’d done and tried to pull the punch, but it was still a solid hit, the alcohol giving added strength. I can still remember the sound my fist made when it cracked against Orlando’s skin, the blood that trickled down. It was sickening. I sickened myself.
At that moment, ever ounce of anger left me. Any influence the alcohol had seemed to drain away, and I was left with my shocked, bleeding husband. My eyes lingered over the damage I’d caused. Apart from a severely bruised jaw and bleeding lip there would be not lasting physical damage, but I’d broken something else beyond repair; I broken Orlando’s trust.
Almost unwillingly I reached out to try and comfort Orlando, meaningless apologies spilling from me. How can you apologise for hitting someone you love? You can’t, not really, not ever. Orlando wouldn’t let me touch him. Wouldn’t look at me. He just told me to go. And I did. I’ve never been more terrified in my life. I’d hit someone I loved, crossed a line and now I didn’t know what to do. Even if Orlando hadn’t told me to go, I would’ve left. I didn’t trust myself around Orlando, or Freya. In that moment, I was terrified I’d end up hurting Orlando again, or our daughter. That was something I wasn’t prepared to accept. So when I was told to leave, Orlando’s voice barely a whisper, I did.
Not knowing where else to go, I booked into a hotel. While it would’ve been more logical to ring Sean, or one of our other friends, I couldn’t. How could I tell them what I’d done? Sean has a very dim view of people who abuse their partners, or any other person. He considered them ‘unworthy’. It might not sound much, but the way Sean says it….That’s how I felt. Unworthy. I couldn’t get anyone involved. They didn’t deserve to be pulled into the mess my life now was.
All I could think about was Orlando and Freya. What had he told her? We’d always tried to be honest with our daughter, but I prayed just this once Orlando would lie. Not for me, but to protect our daughter.
I tried to ring Orlando in the days that followed, but could never complete the number. I was torn between trying to fix things, and letting Orlando move on. Even before I’d hit him things had been bad between us. Perhaps we weren’t meant for each other after all. He deserved so much, so many things I didn’t seem to be able to give him. He deserved someone his own age, someone who would understand him, someone who would have more children if that’s what Orlando wanted. Maybe he should stay with Christian. Visions of Orlando wouldn’t leave me.
That’s when Orlando rang. I almost cried when I heard his voice. I was so sure Orlando was ringing to demand a divorce. That’s what Frankie would’ve no doubt encouraged. But there was no mention of separation, he wanted to know where I was, and unable to lie I told him. Orlando voice cracked when he told me to get someone to look after me, someone who cared. But that was the problem. No one should care about me.
My self-imposed martyrdom was put to an abrupt halt when I had visitors; Sean and Henry to be exact. I have no idea how they found me and at that point I didn’t care, I just wanted to be left alone, seeing myself as unworthy of human company. Unfortunately, Sean and Henry didn’t share that view. Sean told me, as only a blunt Yorkshire man can do, to get ‘your head out your arse and fix things with Orli’ I didn’t see how that was possible, at which point I confessed to hitting Orlando. Sean admitted Henry had told him earlier, and although he wanted to ‘rip me a new one’; he also knew how bad things between myself and Orli had been for months. As Sean told me, it all came down to one thing – was I prepared to fight for our love?
Despite my desperation to save my marriage, I wasn’t ready to face Orlando again, but the choice was taken out my hands when a gaggle of Hobbits practically shoved Orlando into my hotel room the following day. Sean and Henry had left a few hours before, and upon seeing mine and Orli’s faces, they made a very speedy exit. For a few moments I couldn’t move. It seemed years since I saw Orlando. He looked tired. Drained. Although I doubt I looked much better, I couldn’t say for certain. I’d avoided the mirror, afraid of who I’d find looking back at me. But seeing Orlando there, I did the only thing I could think of.
I pulled him close and hugged him. It was a few minutes before I realised I was crying, and then I couldn’t stop. Apologises kept tumbling out of my mouth. Then Orlando started apologising. After we eventually stopped crying, we talked. Really talked like we hadn’t in months. I confessed how scared I’d been when I hit Orlando, why I hadn’t rung. I told Orlando I wanted us to try again, and Orlando said he wanted that as well.
I knew it would take more than one afternoon for us to mend our relationship. Tears and apologise can’t cure everything like they do in the movies. Orlando asked Sonia to look after Freya for a few days which she immediately agreed to. We spent the days re-discovering each other, remembering why we fell in love. We talked, cried, laughed. We found out more about each other in those days than we’d had in years. That time with Orli was the most painful and amazing experience of my life. We didn’t make love during this time, but just held each other, remembering how the other felt. It’d been so long since we’d done that. I tried not to expect anything from this.
When Orlando told me he wanted me back home, our home, I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried and laughed at the same time before, and according to Orlando, I seemed to set a new record for world’s longest kiss. Certainly neither of us seemed to care about oxygen deprivation at that moment.
I can still remember Freya’s face when I came through the front door, how her face lit up. I just twirled her round and round, so grateful to have my family back. Orlando just watched us, tears in his eyes until our daughter flung her arms round Orlando, not moving from my arms. Then looking at both of us with a rather fearsome frown, she demanded I kissed Orlando. Who am I to disobey my daughter?
That kiss will always be remembered and cherished.
As I kissed Orlando with Freya still nestled in my arms, I realised how close I’d come to losing everything. Sonia had tactfully withdrawn some time ago. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank Henry, Sean and assorted Hobbits enough for bringing me and Orli back together again. I shudder to think what would happen if they used their conniving natures for world domination. A world run by hobbits, a terrifying thought indeed.
Even now, I find myself looking at my husband and daughter, thinking how easily I could have lost them. That’s usually when Orlando kisses me, and all my fears melt away. Hugs with my daughter have slowly decreased over the years, like they did with Henry once, but I know that the love that binds us is still there, still tangible, and one day she’ll be able to hug us again in public. She just is at an age where openly loving your parents simply isn’t the done thing. Boyfriends are a different matter. Luke might’ve been her ‘first love’ but I know she’ll forget him. Milo is a much safer bet. Liv and Orlando find the whole thing rather amusing. Perhaps one day Freya will start looking at Milo the way he looks at her. Poor boy, love is painful. I know that from first-hand experience. But love is also something that is always worth the risk.
You just have to keep faith.
- Fin -
BY Imogen
Disclaimer: Don’t know them, don’t sue, ‘kay?
Summary: Trust in yourself, and your heart
Notes: This is the third instalment of the ‘Freya universe’ from Viggo’s POV, as before there’s a handwritten version available at my LJ
Note 2: This is technically the end of the series, but I’m thinking of doing a sort of epilogue which is set further in the future when Freya is fully grown up. If you’d like to read that, please let me know!
Feedback: Please send some!
***~~~***
Love tends to screw up our plans. It certainly screwed up mine, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
I never intended to fall in love with Orlando, it just happened. So much has happened in my life, especially since I met Orlando that I did not intend, and for that I can only be thankful.
Everyone knows the background story of my landing the role of Aragorn, and how Henry cajoled me into it. They know now how Orlando and I got together on set, although a lot evidence, photos and such of the ‘Chronicles of VigOrli’, as a couple of Hobbits have named us, will always remain private. They are too valuable to share with the world.
Some people like to think of mine and Orli’s love as a romance story; boy meets older-crusty boy, they fall in love and much bunny-shagging (you’ve gotta love how Orli phrases things) occurs and everything is happy with lots of rainbows.
Only we know love, like everything in life, it was more complex than that. I’ve never believed in love at first sight. Yes, even though I’m in love and have been for a long time, I still don’t believe in it. Call me a cynic.
Love takes time to develop, it’s the most complex emotion in my opinion, and not something that can be rushed into, or that suddenly happens.
There can be an instant attraction, lust, interest, intrigue and a connection but love, no, not love. Despite what certain parties would try and tell you Orlando and I weren’t shagging within a day or even a week of meeting. I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, least of all someone like Orlando. That’s not to say I was worried about being with another man. It wasn’t something new to me, and although I have been genuinely attracted to women, I’ve always leaned slightly more towards men. I refused to let myself even consider a relationship with Orlando at first. Mostly out of fear, it has to be said. I used every logical argument; he was too young, too beautiful, too inexperienced, too energetic – I’m sure you get the picture. Really it simply boiled down to one thing.
Fear.
Fear that Orlando would simply see me as a fuck buddy, or worse, as a horny old man. Fear that he saw me only as a friend, but nothing more. Fear that I was some sort of experiment (although I knew that was completely against Orlando’s nature) or that he would reject me completely. I convinced myself not to pursue a relationship with him, which was sheer hell. You might’ve guessed Orlando is tactile. He’s affectionate, naturally open and loving with people he cares about. It’s an amazing thing to see – and feel…..around Orlando, to feel so loved. Unfortunately, it played havoc with my libido. All those touches, smiles, stroking.
I owe my son more than I can ever repay for nagging me to take the role. It has given me some of the best friends I could ever hope for, experiences I will treasure forever and a husband and daughter who I treasure more than my own life. That I also treasure my son goes without saying.
I was 42 when I reluctantly took on the mantel of Aragorn. That is something I could certainly relate to with the character; reluctant king – reluctant actor. Like Orlando, I figured I had my life in order. I knew where I was going. I wasn’t an A-list actor, I had no desire to be, because it meant I could pursue my other loves with equal passion. I don’t like to limit myself to one medium of art. It’s not in my nature. I was leading a comfortable existence, of which Henry was the centre. I hadn’t had a serious relationship in three years. My divorce from Exene had been finally been finalised a little over a year ago, and despite our years of separation we were good friends, so I wasn’t nursing a broken heart. But still, I had no desire to go charging into a new relationship, or even crawling into one, as much for Henry’s sake as mine. Fortunately, a skinny Mohawked Brit had other ideas.
That’s not to say Orlando dragged me into a relationship kicking and screaming, quite the opposite in fact. That’s not the sort of person he is. He’s too polite for his own good sometimes. What I mean to say is that I’ve got eyes, and as anyone will attest who knows Orlando, he is extremely difficult to resist. Even Sean admitted that, and he’s straighter than a flagpole. Of course, he swore he’d ‘murder my arse’ if I ever divulged that information. It doesn’t help that the bastard isn’t above pouting, which at his age should look ridiculous, yet somehow doesn’t for him. The rules never seem to apply to Orli. *sigh*
It’s not like Orlando is an unscrupulous or conniving person, if he was, he wouldn’t be as good as getting his own way if he was. I sometimes wonder what he’d be able to achieve, or even more worrying, what he’d get people to do if he really tried. Sometimes hard enough to not give Orlando the last piece of dessert.
Despite various threats from our friends over the years, I feel truly blessed to know each of them, insane as they are. They are family to me, and I know that without their scheming and at times, brutal honesty, Orlando and I probably wouldn’t have lasted.
I don’t mean to imply that we don’t love each other enough not to fight for our love (and I am aware that that sounds Medieval), but trying to manage a relationship, even a private one, in the glare of Hollywood is no easy task. I always knew Orlando would be famous, right from those early days in Rings. The callous or cynical among us would say it was his looks. There is no doubt that his features may kept him in Hollywood’s attention, but there is more than that.
Hollywood is built on beautiful people. There are hundreds of handsome men in Hollywood, big time actors, or those waiting for their ‘big break’ What his critics forget, or tend to ignore is that when Orlando was picked out by Peter, hundreds of beautiful people had auditioned for Legolas. Orlando had no connections to rely on, his beauty just one of hundreds, he really got that part on his talent. He was completely unknown, fresh out of a British drama school.
Peter wouldn’t have risked using a ‘pretty face’ in his masterpiece. If he wanted that, he could have easily chosen some other actor, someone who’d made a name for themselves, but he didn’t.
Good directors are good judges of character, they look beyond the physical. That’s what Peter did. It’s what Cameron Crowe, Ridley Scott and Steven Spielberg all did, and every other director that’s hired him. They’re all amazing directors; they don’t hire people without talent. The fact that Ridley has had him working on three films, actually a fourth if Ridley gets his way in the casting of his latest, which I know he will, and that says something in this business, Ridley isn’t the sort to hire non-talent.
But Orlando is different. He’s one of the few people I know who is truly beautiful. I suppose that sounds strange considering there are so many beautiful people in the business, but it’s not. Any actor can be made to look beautiful. Lighting, make-up, airbrushing, it all adds up. But Orlando…you take away all that, all the fancy clothes, the professional smile (yes we all have one) you can put him in the most ordinary of jeans and a t-shirt and he is still beautiful. He’s beautiful because his soul shines through him. He has this amazing blend of innocence and worldliness that’s impossible to express. He’s in love with life, treasures every second of it, the way only surviving a potentially fatal injury can. Even though it happened before I met him, it still makes my blood run cold to think how easily he could’ve died or ended up paralyzed. That we managed to meet, let alone fall in love between his would-be fatal injury and my reluctance for the role is somewhat of a miracle. I won’t talk about that anymore, I know Orlando hates to talk about it. I can’t say I blame him. Unfortunately, he’s had to talk too much about it; it’s the sort of thing that fascinates people, in a rather morbid way.
I sometimes wonder how Orlando’s, or my, life would have been if we’d never met. I have no doubt Orlando would have found someone to love him. Maybe a woman who he’d have beautiful children with. I sometimes wonder how much criticism of Orlando’s acting is levelled at him because he’s with me. Perhaps that’s egotistical on my part. It pains me that the critics have warmed to me more over the years, and yet Orlando….
He’s not reviled by the critics, a lot of them now truly respect him as an actor, not only because he’s an Oscar Winner but because he’s worked his ass off to prove himself. Their stinging criticisms only made him more determined. That’s one of the things I admire so much about my husband, he’s a fighter. He’s had so many obstacles thrown in his path and yet has never given up. He might not think he’s done anything remarkable but he has, by just being here, by surviving. That is what true courage is. I sometimes wish I could have that courage about life (Orlando charmingly refers to it as ‘pig-headedness’)
I’m sometimes amazed we’ve lasted this long, for all Hollywood’s parading of it’s Golden Couples, most do not seem to be able to last ten years. I think some people still can’t come to grips that Jen’N’Brad are over even after all these years. I don’t mean to come off as smug or snarky, but it’s something I feel much pride in. That we’ve lasted all this time, we’ve fought to stay together. There aren’t columnists gushing about us. We don’t fit into that mould. Tabloids like to try and mention us, we’re their ‘token gay couple’ as Orlando scathingly refers to it, but I think they’re getting bored of us walking the dogs or buying milk. At least I hope so anyway. They’re nothing duller than watching other people’s lives, or maybe I’m just being optimistic about the whole thing.
We’ve always kept our relationship quiet, even after we stopped hiding. We turn up to each other’s films, gallery exhibitions and such, but we also got to PTA meetings, always very amusing affairs, and food shopping together. We go to Freya’s school performances, on the rare occasion her friends persuade her to sing publicly. She normally only sings when she thinks others can’t hear her. I never understand why she tries to hide her talent; she’s vocal enough in everyday life.
We walk the dogs with Freya and Hank, when he’s around. Do boring couple stuff, live our lives as any normal couple does. What makes people want to read about that mystifies me.
We don’t put on a PR effect for show. If I don’t smile at a premiere all night, people can think what they want. I could have toothache or had a row with Orlando but I would never admit to either.
I never wanted to be part of a ‘picture perfect’ couple. I never had that with Exene, and if I had tried, she probably would’ve got the crap kicked out of me. Besides Exene would never have fitted into the ‘housewife’ role. Having said that, I have no doubt Orlando would look beautiful in a frilly pink apron. Not that I’d ever dare say that to his face that is. Freya says I’d sign my death warrant – or at least risk a long period of enforced abstinence if I did, which frankly is more terrifying than death to my mind.
To be such an integral part of Orlando’s life is a privilege I will never take for granted. I know, certainly in the early years of our relationship Orlando looked to me for advice, listened to my opinions. He seemed to be under a misapprehension that I was some sort of unflappable guru, it took him a while to realise I was just as lost, frustrated and confused as everyone else, I just disguised them in forms of art. I think in a strange way that helped ease some of his own insecurities about whether we would last.
I suppose there will always be a low-level interest in us. Not many same sex couples in the public eye have children. In some ways it makes us sitting ducks for public and press scrutiny. I know sectors of society are disgusted; think we’re hell-bound or some such crap. I can handle what they say. I’ve always believed in the freedom of speech, that people abuse it is something I have to accept.
Most days I can handle the intrusion into our lives, and by intrusion I don’t mean it’s always a paparazzi. It can be an article or interview…they impinge on our lives as well. I’m an adult, I chose my career in the public eye and that’s fine, but when people start commenting on my lifestyle and my family; that is different.
Freya never chose to have two fathers, any more than any child gets to choose their parents and it riles me when she’s dragged into a morality discussion that is not her doing. Even worse, some of the bigoted bastards try to compare Henry and Freya’s upbringings, to support their own theories of how essential the ‘real’ family is.
Yes Henry has a mother and a father, and therefore he did not endure the taunting that Freya has, and that does bother me. I love both my children, and it pains me to see either of them hurting. It’s something that some people still find hard to except – that some gay men want children; that children can be raised in a loving home with only one gender of parent. We’re raising a remarkable daughter together, who I have no doubt will become an amazing woman.
My daughter is a gift I never thought I would have. I’d never intended to have more children after Henry, and when I fell in love with Orlando, it seemed a moot point. I was happy with our lives, Henry was growing up. We’d planned to come out when Henry was at university, since then it wouldn’t matter so much to him, he’d be adult enough to handle the exposure. College people tend to be more liberal minded, and with Exene’s methods of upbringing, Henry was well equipped to deal with any taunts headed his way. So more children certainly wasn’t something I’d considered. In hindsight I suppose that was stupid of me.
I saw how Orlando was with children. He has a natural bond with them. He spoiled Milo rotten when he saw him. Lily-Rose and Jack always got presents when he saw Johnny, as did Klaus and Sophie with Eric. It didn’t help that articles always seemed to pin Orlando down on the children issue. I remember after one incident when Orlando was out with Sidi and a couple of paparazzi kept harassing Orlando with questions about why he was still ‘single status’ – why didn’t he have a girlfriend? Did he plan to have children, was he the father of his co-star’s recently announced pregnancy…I was so pissed when I heard about that. Especially when Orlando ended up crying himself to sleep that night, although whether they were tears of fury or sadness I wasn’t sure. I think it was only then that I realised how much the children issue was bothering him.
When I’d first got together with Orlando, I’d made a promise to myself to do anything to make him happy, as long as it didn’t involve mass murder or wearing spandex. That whole incident made me really think. I was approaching fifty, and although I had a few years to go, I wasn’t sure that fatherhood was something I was ready to embark on again. But I also knew how much joy being a father had brought to me. I saw how much Sean, Eric and Johnny revelled in fatherhood and I knew it would be selfish of me to refuse Orlando what I’d already experienced.
Things changed when I proposed to Orlando. We’d been together for ten, almost eleven years and I felt it was past time to make it official, at least in the eyes of the government. We’d had a commitment celebration a few years previously; an extremely private affair with only our family and the Fellowship present, although by this time Johnny and Eric seemed to have wormed their way into the Inner Circle, in Denmark.
I’d also forced, or cajoled Robin-the-pit bull into clamping down any potential leaks to the press about either the commitment ceremony or the wedding. On those two occasions she proved extremely efficient, perhaps because I was so forceful about it. Orlando says I can have quite a commanding presence when I try. Where he gets that from, I’ve no idea. But this was important. I wanted something special for just us, and more especially for Orlando, without the media intruding in on us. I didn’t want to share this with the world.
We married in England, two months after I proposed. It only made the papers a week after the wedding. The media world seemed scandalised by this, and no end of lucrative offers poured out to get our wedding photos. Unfortunately for them, the only evidence they got of our wedding, was the gold bands we wore at the premiere of Orlando’s film three weeks later. I felt a small amount of pride about that.
I think Robin was ready to burst a blood vessel when we told her about the wedding. She’d never bothered to hide her distaste at me. I don’t think it was homophobia on her part, she just would’ve preferred someone more….Hollywood, who could fit into the image of the Hollywood star she’d tried so hard to cultivate in Orlando. She might’ve been brilliant at her job, but she had no compunction about turning Orlando into a mindless mannequin to put him at the ‘top of his league’ and in saying that I would only ‘drag him down’, if he stayed with me. Charming.
I think her hissy-fit about the wedding was the last straw for Orlando. He fired her. Frankie came at Johnny’s recommendation, and while she’s about as tactful as Simon Cowell (yes, shockingly, I do have knowledge of pop culture, though I’m sure Hank and Freya would die rather than admit it), she’s fiercely protective of Orlando, and God help you if you cross her.
Orlando’s always known his career had come with certain pitfalls. He had to sacrifice his privacy to a degree, which may not sound a lot, but believe me, anonymity is something most celebrities would revel in given the chance. He’s lost friends along they way who couldn’t handle the intrusion every time they met with Orlando. He’s had his acting abilities and his physical appearance mocked by actors and critics he has never met or worked with. That’s something I’ve noticed. I cannot recall a single actor who was worked with Orlando, who has criticised him on or off the record, either on a professional or personal front. That says a lot more than any criticism in my opinion.
I won’t go into all the details about how we decided to have Freya. I don’t wish to go into details about my daughter’s conception, it would be a breach of her privacy, and not something that I feel is even relevant.
To my mind, it wouldn’t make a speck of difference whether Freya was our biological daughter, adopted or brought by aliens. She is our child, our daughter, not some experiment or ‘proof’ that we’re ‘normal’
Just like our marriage, news of our daughter spread like wildfire, but we refused any interviews and photo opportunities. We refused to issue a statement about our daughter, or even a name. It was none of the world’s business how we had Freya. Frankie proved even more ruthless than Robin, if that was possible. Only this was in protecting ours and Freya’s privacy, which is something I’ll always be grateful for. I sometimes wonder if she is more like a bodyguard than an agent.
The one incident I will never forget was when Freya was three weeks old, and Orlando had taken her to see Dom and Elijah at their insistence. Somehow the paparazzi had got wind just as he was leaving, and tried to get an interview with Orlando, or at least photos of Freya. Unfortunately for them, Orlando can be fiercely protective of those he loves, and shoved the man away rather roughly when he tried to zoom in on our daughter and made her cry. When the man tried to sue Orlando, I was glad to hear not many people were sympathetic to his plight, especially the judge.
Having been a father again to Freya, it’s made me wish I could have had more children with Orlando. I know he always wanted a large family, to make up for the small one he had growing up, and I can understand that. I did sometimes think when Freya was younger if we should try to give her another brother, or sister, but the time never seemed quite right, and then I felt too old to go through the theatrics of baby and toddler-hood again. I adore Henry and Freya with every fibre of my being and I’d want any other children to have the same attention and love I have been able to give both of them, and with another child, our filming commitments and my ‘advancing age’ it wouldn’t be practical.
Orli insists it doesn’t matter, claiming Freya is still ‘his baby girl’ and we’ll have plenty of time still to watch her grow up, since she won’t be allowed to date until she’s 52, and only then under supervision. This results in a rolling of eyes and a whining “Daaaaaddddddddy” which always manages to make my eardrums ache. I don’t know who to sympathise more for sometimes, my husband or daughter. I think when the time comes for her to date, I’ll convince Henry and Exene to chaperone, that will keep away any unsavoury interest.
I know how much Orli fears for our little girl. Yes, she’s still a little girl to me. Henry too. Except for the girl part, obviously. My point is, all parents still view their children as their babies. Sonia is the same with Orlando, and Sam, much to Orlando’s mortification. He wants to protect Freya – and Henry. There is no distinction between our children in Orlando’s mind. Have I mentioned how much I love him?
Every time Freya cries because of some taunt about her parents, it breaks his heart and mine. One of the hardest things to do is to watch your child hurting and not be able to magic that hurt away. I thought it would be easier with Freya, but it wasn’t. It’s a hard and horrible lesson to learn that each parent has to face: they can’t protect their child from the world.
I can still remember when Freya was about seven, and told us she was going to hell because she had two daddies. Who would be so callous to a child? I remember being torn between sorrow and fury as Orlando held our daughter, trying to reassure her. How do you convince a seven-year old they are not going to hell? Fortunately, that type of bigoted outbreak is rare and Freya is now at an age where she can understand and ignore any taunts. She has an admirable quality not possessed by many teenagers in that she is able to rise above them.
I have no doubt it is hard for her, and I hate that she has to endure such pettiness – although, fortunately, such incidents are rare. Freya likes to dismiss them as ‘emotionally stunted arseholes’ I sometimes wonder where she gets her charming vocabulary. Despite this, I’m under no illusions over how lucky Freya is. Not because she’s the daughter of ‘movie stars’, but because so many people love and care for her. Exene and Henry would kill anyone who hurt her, although I doubt they’d be much left to kill if Orlando got there first. I almost felt sorry for that Luke boy when I heard how he broke my daughter’s heart a few months ago, but hearing how he humiliated her, and remember seeing her cry night after night, he would’ve deserved Orlando’s wrath. Poor Freya was convinced she’d found the love of her life.
As Neanderthal as it sounds, it was gratifying to see Henry and Sean so determined to ‘avenge’ Freya. I do think Henry would’ve been more than willing to use that boy as a punch bag should Freya allowed it.
I’m proud of how Freya handled the situation, I’m not exactly clear what she did, but it gave her and her friends hours of amusement, and a new amount of respect. I’m proud to have such an inventive and self-reliant daughter.
As Henry says, “mess with a Mortensen at your peril.”
I think he may have a point there. We Mortensen’s are a mad breed, as my husband will attest to.
Although I know Orli would’ve relished exerting his own brand of ‘fatherly justice’, perhaps I should be ashamed to admit I’d happily join Orlando on this occasion. No one hurts my daughter.
It still makes me feel bad, every hurt she endures. We took pains to remove her from any sort of Hollywood upbringing, and at least Denmark and England don’t have a gun-totting God fearing Moral Majority to contend with. It would’ve been hell for her in American schools. Henry managed to escape from that, since we didn’t come out while he was at school, but he still got unwanted attention when people bugged him for autographs, or when someone made derogatory comments about Orlando, unknowingly hurting Henry.
I’ve always been thankful that Henry and Orlando are close. They don’t view each other as parent and child, even if Orlando is Hank’s step-father, their relationship is one of equals, something which both Exene and I strived to reach with Henry, but Orlando achieved seemingly effortlessly. I know that’s a lie though. Orlando, as with everything in his life, worked to achieve Hank’s approval. I think strangely Freya’s birth brought him closer to Orlando. We weren’t the only ones besotted with our daughter. I can still remember when Hank insisted on being the first one to hold her. I can only be grateful that Hank and Freya love each other so much. I know full bloodied siblings would don’t love each other like those two do. It’s not many men, whose ex-wife and son would welcome not only a male lover, but also a child from that relationship into their lives.
I’m fully aware of how lucky I am in my life. My husband, children, friends, work – I could not ask for anything more. Yet sometimes, it seems all to easy to forget my blessings, after a long separation from Orlando due to filming schedules (I always swear I will give up acting and concentrate on art, but that’s yet to happen) or on bad days when I want to hide from the world. Just thinking of my family is enough to get me through whatever crisis happens. Hearing Orlando’s voice on the phone, or my daughter’s, it makes any annoyance or discomfort I go through worthwhile. I have already gone through the hell of almost loosing my family once, and that was enough to freeze me to the core and to thank every known deity every day for what I have.
It’s still painful to talk about, even think about, because without Orlando’s determination, I sometimes wonder where I would be now. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, but the fact is Orlando, along with my children, are my life, and being without them is my worst nightmare, as I’m sure it would be for most people. We have those nightmares to remind us how lucky we are. Of course, none of us really think what we would do if our nightmares came true, or at the very least shown a vision of what could come to pass...
I suppose in a twisted way I should thank the bastard who almost cost me my family…but that’s part of the problem. In many ways I’m said bastard. Mr DiMattio would be the other bastard. It would be so easy to blame him for everything, but I can’t because he was simply exploiting a bad situation. I just didn’t realise that our marriage was cracking, or perhaps I did and simply ignored it.
I still hate him for what he tried to do. He didn’t cause the first cracks in our marriage, but he took advantage of the situation, took advantage of a vulnerable Orlando. I hate him for that, for betraying Orlando’s trust. If he had truly loved Orlando, he would have just been a friend to Orlando when his marriage when breaking.
Christian is very much a part of Hollywood elite. His gift for camera work is unique, even I can admit that. Bast had taken him under his wing, nurtured his talent. He’s often called the successor of Annie Leibovitz. Not many can be called that. Regardless of his talent though, I don’t think he ever captured Orlando as beautifully as Bast has. They may be cousins, but they couldn’t love each other more if they were brothers. That love is transfused into every photo he takes of Orlando. Christian missed that love, and it shows.
Of course, I’d heard of Christian DiMattio before the whole situation started. It would be difficult not to. In some ways his career mirrored Orlando in that he seemingly sprang from nowhere to become one of the most in demand photographers. What a lot of people didn’t know was their lives mirrored in more ways than one; they were old friends, and lovers. They’d grown up together, gone to school and Guildhall together, shared secrets, dreams – everything that had made Orlando….Orlando, when I met him. Christian had shared all that.
He would be everyone’s ideal partner. Handsome, educated, well travelled, humorous, courteous.
He made me feel old and run-down. Made me wonder what I was doing at my age with someone as young as Orlando, with a young daughter. Freya should’ve had two young, energetic parents.
When they met it was like they’d never been parted, Orlando’s face was lit with joy at seeing his old friend. He hugged him, kissed his check.
Orlando has a special way of hugging those he truly loves. It’s not just a ‘hug’ with Orlando. Your entire being is enveloped in warmth and love. It’s impossible to describe, but it is amazing. You can feel Orlando’s love and joy come through that hug. He hugged Christian like that.
It’d been months since I felt Orlando’s arms around me like that. I missed them.
I knew they still met up after we’d got together, and Orlando told me that they were now nothing more than friends. I tried to believe him. I’m ashamed to admit I did often wonder if Orlando would cheat on me, he exudes love and affection, and people have taken that the wrong way in the past. Christian didn’t seem to be one of them.
In many ways I only have myself to blame that Christian was able to take advantage of the situation, of Orlando, and yes I do think he took advantage of my husband. Orlando is not naïve but he does look for the best in people. It is an admirable quality that I hope he never looses.
Our problems started before Christian if I’m honest. Perhaps it was the so-called ‘seven year itch’. I wasn’t tiring of Orlando, that would never be possible, but our relationship had changed. I think Orli was aware that Freya wasn’t a baby anymore. She was growing up, challenging us more, and Orlando was finding that difficult.
She was nine, and at school, needing him less and less. It’s a hard blow to a parent when your children begin their first steps to independence. I’d not been on my best behaviour either, if truth be told. Orlando seemed to be constantly either filming or promoting. The time that he was home seemed taken up with looking after Freya. Orlando had always balked at the idea of having a nanny to take care of our daughter. When I’d suggested it a few months back, he hadn’t taken kindly to it.
We started arguing. All the time.
I don’t know what really started us off. We were both unhappy, but like most adults we are we chose to squabble, rather than talk. Things that I’d never noticed before irritated me. We argued over the state of the house. Orlando complained about me leaving paint covered clothes ‘everywhere’ (the studio and our bedroom respectively) he nagged me about keeping the studio door locked, fearing Freya would hurt herself in there. I kept forgetting. Sidi became an irritation, in that he kept jumping up at people. I felt he was completely spoilt and undisciplined. Orlando grew defensive, attacking me, saying least he didn’t take horses to premieres. He said he was surprised I hadn’t made TJ my PA.
This went on for weeks….months….never building to breaking point, but never ebbing away either. I think that’s when I started to worry about my marriage. I’d already been divorced once, my parents are divorced, and I recognized the ‘signals’, and as close as me and Exene still are, I didn’t want this marriage to end in even the most amicable divorce, to be only able to meet Orlando to exchange Freya and attend PTA meetings. But I didn’t seem to be able to stop things.
By the time Orlando told me about the photo shoot I was in a continually irritable mood. Orlando had only just come off a ten month movie, which had been hard on both of us. Even though I’d visited him with Freya on set, we’d barely seemed to spend any time together, since Orlando was perpetually exhausted, and then I’d had to leave a week later for an exhibition.
So when Orlando finally returned home all I wanted some quality time with my husband. Was that such an extraordinary request? It’d been months since we’d made love or really just held each other, and the last thing I wanted was an old lover of his to spend time with him, especially an old lover that was a known seducer. Orlando didn’t take kindly to when I pointed this out. I can’t blame him, in his eyes Christian was a trusted friend. It smarted that Orlando didn’t believe me, but worse that I didn’t trust him. When Orlando left for the photo hoot, I did something I’d never done before. I didn’t kiss him goodbye. I wish I had.
Christian made no effort to hide his preferences, and although technically bisexual, he had a ‘type’ – and that was Orlando. His ‘Lando, his ‘Lan. No one calls him that. Not his friends from childhood, not Bast, Sam or Sonia. No one. He hates the name, yet Christian was allowed. It made Orlando smile, laugh even. Christian made my husband smile when I couldn’t.
That’s when I began to fear I was losing Orlando.
I also got to hear their insidious school nickname. Christian thought it was amusing, but then Christy is less insulting than Whorli. I hate that name. Probably because it reminds me of this time. It speaks to every derogatory insult Orlando has had to endure over the years.
When Orlando invited me to meet Christian, I jumped at the chance, surprising him. I hadn’t expressed any interest or approval in the photo shoot, but I was adamant about keeping an eye on Orlando around Christian, although I told myself it wasn’t about trusting. Orlando had never given me any reason to think he’d even consider an affair, and that included the would-be affair that Orlando was supposed to have had with his very clingy co-star, who’s career was heading for a nose-dive and figured a little publicity stunt would help her out. That has been the one time; I have relished the papers being forced to print a retraction.
I behaved badly from the moment I met Christian, I accept that. I was rude, churlish, and no doubt a complete embarrassment to Orlando. I spent most of the time pretending to read, but trying to watch them.
It was hell.
He was forever touching Orlando. Stroking his hair, kissing his cheek, brushing his lips. Every little thing I’d loved to do to Orlando and hadn’t for months, Christian did without hesitation and Orlando didn’t stop him.
I watched as the sculpture took shape. It was beautiful, just like all of Orlando’s work. He likes to tell people he’s an amateur but his work should be in a gallery, and despite what Orlando thinks, that isn’t the lover in me talking, it’s the artist. I hated that Christian had persuaded Orlando to show the public one of his sculptures, when I had been trying for years. It took Christian less than a hour. I resented that.
I saw how Christian and Orlando laughed with each other. Their mirrored mannerisms, in-jokes between them. I tried to tell myself it was normal between old friends. Former lovers. It didn’t work. I’d distrusted Christian by reputation and rumour before I met him. I don’t rely on background gossip from Hollywood, but I had photographer friends who knew Christian and I trusted them. Perhaps I should’ve trusted Orlando more.
I was convinced Orlando was aware of Christian’s flirtations and simply trying to make me jealous. It worked. I know it was arrogant to assume that, but I wasn’t exactly thinking logically at this point. All I could see was Christian and Orlando together, touching all the time. It was as if I was surrounded by it, drowning almost. Jealousy does that to a person.
Orlando managed to tolerate my behaviour for three days before he confronted me, demanding an explanation. After much cajoling on Orlando’s part, I confessed my fears about Christian, his reputation for seducing his clients and that Orlando was next on the ‘list’. Orlando was furious with me.
You have to understand, out of the two of us, I have the temper. I swear and curse in a multitude of languages; Orlando keeps silent and goes for walks with the dogs. But this time Orlando didn’t keep silent. I suppose I should’ve been expecting Orlando’s reaction. I wouldn’t have taken too kindly to someone suggesting one of my oldest friends was a seducing bastard.
When Orlando called me a jealous child, I’d had enough. I left him. Stormed out the door, like a child having a temper tantrum. I was burning with righteous indignation, and more alcohol than should’ve been healthy.
I’m not normally a drinker, even a social one. But when I’m morose it’s another story. The fact that I can hold my own against even Master Depp should be worrying when it comes to sheer alcoholic consumption, but I didn’t care. For those few days I drank and painted, or at least attempted to. I locked myself away from the real world.
It gave me a sense of moral justification when I refused to speak to Orlando on the phone the next day. By the time Orlando tried to apologise for the third day, any attempted justification had long since worn off, but I stubbornly clung to my injured dignity. After the third day Orlando didn’t ring to apologise, and I didn’t pick up the phone.
All I could think about was Orlando with Christian, wondering if Christian was seducing my husband each night. I tortured myself with endless scenarios, most of which ended in a callous Orlando handing me divorce papers, and taking sole custody of Freya. I’m ashamed to admit that during Orlando’s absence, I mostly locked myself in my studio, often drinking and attempting to paint. If Hank hadn’t been around to look after Freya I don’t know what would’ve happened. I hope that’s something Orlando never finds out.
I can barely admit what happened next. It still shames me to the core even now.
Orlando woke me in my studio, having returned a day earlier than expected. I was in no state to be around Orlando. I’d spent practically three days drinking and letting my resentment simmer. I remember how Orlando practically shuddered when he looked at me.
Upon discovering the reason for Orlando’s unexpected arrival, I asked how much Orlando had been paid to fuck Christian. I felt so ashamed calling my husband a whore but I couldn’t seem to control my tongue.
I’d never said something so crass to anyone. I’d never called Exene a whore when we’d fought, never called Orlando one when he hugged and kissed his friends, because I knew what it meant to Orlando. It didn’t bother me when Johnny and Orlando kissed in greeting, or a hobbit ‘glompped’ him, or Eric’s bear–hugs. Yet the idea of him with Christian, with an ex-lover, caused my world to come crashing down.
I should’ve stopped then, left while I still had a shred of dignity left. What I said had been horribly cruel but I didn’t leave. A part of me wanted a fight, the alcohol had fired me up and I wasn’t ready to back down. I don’t know what I expected from this, all I knew was I wanted to hurt Orlando like I felt he’d hurt me. That Orlando hadn’t meant too was immaterial to me at this point.
I walked into the kitchen, knowing that Orlando would follow me. He never lets an argument fester. Orlando warned me not to wake Freya. I was ashamed that I hadn’t considered that I might wake our daughter. I just hope to God Freya never witnessed our arguments, especially this one. That’s one thing I’d never want her to know. No child deserves to see that.
Orlando informed me that he and Christian hadn’t slept together that night, or any other night since he’d got together with me. Normally I would’ve believed him.
Orlando has always strongly believed in monogamy. So why didn’t I believe him?
That’s when Orlando told me about Christian kissing him. I couldn’t stop the laugh, I tried but I just…couldn’t. I wanted to demand why it had taken a kiss and a blatant attempt at seduction before Orlando had seen what I knew all along. But I just laughed. I still shudder at how ugly that sound was. When Orlando asked about saving our marriage, if only for Freya, I callously replied Freya was his daughter, his responsibility.
That made Orlando lose it. I think he knew I didn’t mean it, I hope so. It was the alcohol, the anger talking, because he turned to leave, and when I grabbed him with more force that I should, demanding to know where he was going, he spat that he was going to get fucked ‘by someone who isn’t you’
I know Orlando said it to hurt me, that he’d never betray me, but it made me see red. Something made me snap.
Without thinking, I did something I swore I would never do.
I hit Orlando. God help me, I hit my husband.
Even before the hit landed, I realised what I’d done and tried to pull the punch, but it was still a solid hit, the alcohol giving added strength. I can still remember the sound my fist made when it cracked against Orlando’s skin, the blood that trickled down. It was sickening. I sickened myself.
At that moment, ever ounce of anger left me. Any influence the alcohol had seemed to drain away, and I was left with my shocked, bleeding husband. My eyes lingered over the damage I’d caused. Apart from a severely bruised jaw and bleeding lip there would be not lasting physical damage, but I’d broken something else beyond repair; I broken Orlando’s trust.
Almost unwillingly I reached out to try and comfort Orlando, meaningless apologies spilling from me. How can you apologise for hitting someone you love? You can’t, not really, not ever. Orlando wouldn’t let me touch him. Wouldn’t look at me. He just told me to go. And I did. I’ve never been more terrified in my life. I’d hit someone I loved, crossed a line and now I didn’t know what to do. Even if Orlando hadn’t told me to go, I would’ve left. I didn’t trust myself around Orlando, or Freya. In that moment, I was terrified I’d end up hurting Orlando again, or our daughter. That was something I wasn’t prepared to accept. So when I was told to leave, Orlando’s voice barely a whisper, I did.
Not knowing where else to go, I booked into a hotel. While it would’ve been more logical to ring Sean, or one of our other friends, I couldn’t. How could I tell them what I’d done? Sean has a very dim view of people who abuse their partners, or any other person. He considered them ‘unworthy’. It might not sound much, but the way Sean says it….That’s how I felt. Unworthy. I couldn’t get anyone involved. They didn’t deserve to be pulled into the mess my life now was.
All I could think about was Orlando and Freya. What had he told her? We’d always tried to be honest with our daughter, but I prayed just this once Orlando would lie. Not for me, but to protect our daughter.
I tried to ring Orlando in the days that followed, but could never complete the number. I was torn between trying to fix things, and letting Orlando move on. Even before I’d hit him things had been bad between us. Perhaps we weren’t meant for each other after all. He deserved so much, so many things I didn’t seem to be able to give him. He deserved someone his own age, someone who would understand him, someone who would have more children if that’s what Orlando wanted. Maybe he should stay with Christian. Visions of Orlando wouldn’t leave me.
That’s when Orlando rang. I almost cried when I heard his voice. I was so sure Orlando was ringing to demand a divorce. That’s what Frankie would’ve no doubt encouraged. But there was no mention of separation, he wanted to know where I was, and unable to lie I told him. Orlando voice cracked when he told me to get someone to look after me, someone who cared. But that was the problem. No one should care about me.
My self-imposed martyrdom was put to an abrupt halt when I had visitors; Sean and Henry to be exact. I have no idea how they found me and at that point I didn’t care, I just wanted to be left alone, seeing myself as unworthy of human company. Unfortunately, Sean and Henry didn’t share that view. Sean told me, as only a blunt Yorkshire man can do, to get ‘your head out your arse and fix things with Orli’ I didn’t see how that was possible, at which point I confessed to hitting Orlando. Sean admitted Henry had told him earlier, and although he wanted to ‘rip me a new one’; he also knew how bad things between myself and Orli had been for months. As Sean told me, it all came down to one thing – was I prepared to fight for our love?
Despite my desperation to save my marriage, I wasn’t ready to face Orlando again, but the choice was taken out my hands when a gaggle of Hobbits practically shoved Orlando into my hotel room the following day. Sean and Henry had left a few hours before, and upon seeing mine and Orli’s faces, they made a very speedy exit. For a few moments I couldn’t move. It seemed years since I saw Orlando. He looked tired. Drained. Although I doubt I looked much better, I couldn’t say for certain. I’d avoided the mirror, afraid of who I’d find looking back at me. But seeing Orlando there, I did the only thing I could think of.
I pulled him close and hugged him. It was a few minutes before I realised I was crying, and then I couldn’t stop. Apologises kept tumbling out of my mouth. Then Orlando started apologising. After we eventually stopped crying, we talked. Really talked like we hadn’t in months. I confessed how scared I’d been when I hit Orlando, why I hadn’t rung. I told Orlando I wanted us to try again, and Orlando said he wanted that as well.
I knew it would take more than one afternoon for us to mend our relationship. Tears and apologise can’t cure everything like they do in the movies. Orlando asked Sonia to look after Freya for a few days which she immediately agreed to. We spent the days re-discovering each other, remembering why we fell in love. We talked, cried, laughed. We found out more about each other in those days than we’d had in years. That time with Orli was the most painful and amazing experience of my life. We didn’t make love during this time, but just held each other, remembering how the other felt. It’d been so long since we’d done that. I tried not to expect anything from this.
When Orlando told me he wanted me back home, our home, I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried and laughed at the same time before, and according to Orlando, I seemed to set a new record for world’s longest kiss. Certainly neither of us seemed to care about oxygen deprivation at that moment.
I can still remember Freya’s face when I came through the front door, how her face lit up. I just twirled her round and round, so grateful to have my family back. Orlando just watched us, tears in his eyes until our daughter flung her arms round Orlando, not moving from my arms. Then looking at both of us with a rather fearsome frown, she demanded I kissed Orlando. Who am I to disobey my daughter?
That kiss will always be remembered and cherished.
As I kissed Orlando with Freya still nestled in my arms, I realised how close I’d come to losing everything. Sonia had tactfully withdrawn some time ago. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank Henry, Sean and assorted Hobbits enough for bringing me and Orli back together again. I shudder to think what would happen if they used their conniving natures for world domination. A world run by hobbits, a terrifying thought indeed.
Even now, I find myself looking at my husband and daughter, thinking how easily I could have lost them. That’s usually when Orlando kisses me, and all my fears melt away. Hugs with my daughter have slowly decreased over the years, like they did with Henry once, but I know that the love that binds us is still there, still tangible, and one day she’ll be able to hug us again in public. She just is at an age where openly loving your parents simply isn’t the done thing. Boyfriends are a different matter. Luke might’ve been her ‘first love’ but I know she’ll forget him. Milo is a much safer bet. Liv and Orlando find the whole thing rather amusing. Perhaps one day Freya will start looking at Milo the way he looks at her. Poor boy, love is painful. I know that from first-hand experience. But love is also something that is always worth the risk.
You just have to keep faith.
- Fin -
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Date: 2007-04-01 03:52 am (UTC)