Rough Road To Recovery

22 September

I wasn't, generally speaking, overly fond of staying in hotels if I could avoid it. I could have chosen a villa or something spectacular for the stay, but this afforded my being able to come and go, have room service and not worry about the place. It was what I needed traveling all over, as was my wont, now that I was semi-famous (or so I am told.) When we got to the hotel I wouldn't have cared if my domicile for the next two weeks was a barn as long as I could lie down in a decent spot and not have to move until I wanted too, or Monday, whichever came first. We had anticipated our arrival to be somewhere in the vicinity of two in the afternoon. It had ended up being closer to seven. We were greeted by a handful of faxes and other messages, for me, that I shoved in my attaché. They would wait. Nothing, nor anyone, was going to keep me any longer from that bed. I didn't argue with Pattie over which bedroom was hers or where she should put anything. I didn't even bother to grab my nightshirt (Colin's blue shirt) my prized bed-wear (when I wore any). I just threw everything except my underwear off, took the next dose of the healing drugs I'd gotten from the doctor and fell into the bed. I still had fever, but disregarded another round of aspirin. I knew it would break sooner or later and all I wanted was sleep, rest and to be able to stop thinking about how sore my throat and face were. Pattie brought me a glass of water and a box of tissues. It was vital to stay hydrated. When she shut the door my body and my mind both shut down.

I woke up to dark. I felt better, not perfect, but better. I finally had gotten enough sleep that I knew I could function. The swelling in my throat had subsided. Not completely, though as I drank the water there was actually a passageway from my mouth to my stomach that hadn't been there a few hours before and my face was relieved of the cotton masked inside it. Sure I had to sit there and use five or six tissues to clear some of it out, but it was worth that small effort and it was great to be able to swallow and breathe on my own once more. The only disappointment was that I hadn't slept through the night. I thought surely I was tired and sick enough for that to be an easy enough accomplishment for my body and brain to fulfill. In any case I would now, or soon, be ready for my next dose of medications. The fever was gone, hopefully for the last time. I still felt really crappy overall, but tired I wasn't, which is not conducive to having to stay in bed to rest and recoup. Do you know how boring that is? How fast tedium sets in? And look where I was. In this beautiful hotel in the equally beautiful setting in this gorgeous little town in the mountains of Italy. And where was I? Okay, so I wasn't going anywhere tonight was I? I gathered myself, checked my watch, which had eight o'clock on it and made my way out towards the living area. I'd have to reset that thing. Wasn't sure which time zone I'd finally left it on.

"Hey Pattie. What's doing?"

"I didn't sleep very long did I? The way I was feeling I thought I'd sleep for days. What time is it really? I believe my watch is a bit messed up."

"It's just after eight."

"So I only slept like an hour or so?"

"No."

"But we got here just near seven."

"Diane. It's after eight. It's also Sunday night. We got here Saturday. Like twenty-four hours ago."

I found a chair, though I had wanted to get something else to drink and see if there was something in the way of food. I was also hungry.

"Sorry. Dang I didn't mean to leave you alone for that long at time. Trying to figure out what to do other than twiddling you thumbs."

"Hell, I'm a big girl. You think I stayed here watching over your fevered brow all that time? You know me better than that."

"Right, should have known better I suppose."

"Exactly."

"So what did you do with all this free time I afforded you?"

I was now quite curious to determine what sights she had taken in without me. I was starting to feel mildly put out that I hadn't gone on any treks. Though one could argue I was in no position to go anywhere and I also had two weeks where she only had the one.

"Let me see. First there was the problem of Mario. You remember him or were you so far gone you have no idea who I'm talking about?"

"Course I do, he's a mule skinner. No, just kidding. What about him?"

"Well, we hired him to drive us here. He and the car were not a set. Had to get him back to Rome. Now I had choices. I could get him to the bus, which would take him to the train. Would have to pay for that, naturally, or I could have him drive back to Rome in the car and I could drive it back here."

"And?"

"I chose the latter. It was great. Boy, you don't know how quickly one can learn to drive like a native until you try it. Besides, I got to hang around Rome for a few hours. Hope you don't mind that I did."

"No, not in the least. I'd have been piss poor company regardless. I still feel like shit, truth be told."

"Not any better then?"

"Oh some, but you know this is going to take a couple more days."

"You hungry then? I did manage to wangle a few things. I'm positive I got what amounts to cup-o-soup and I unpacked your stuff, got your tea. Hang in, I'll go get this stuff heated up for you."

"You don't have to........."

I tried to impart she was not obliged to nurse me, but she talked and exited towards the kitchen in almost one motion. I sat back in my chair and settled in by placing my feet on a small stool that had previously been to the side of the settee. That's when the other shoe dropped. I heard the kitchen door open and turned my head towards Pattie.

"Hey gal, by the way. I happened to grab a newspaper today. You know, sort of a souvenir type thing? I know, I can't read a stitch of it, but I figured why the hell not? It's over there on the coffee table? Take a look."

"Oh, Pats I'm not up to trying to read Italian right now."

"Diane, look at it. At least the pictures."

"I'm not sure what page it is, but I do think the section of it is movies, entertainment, that sort of thing."

"Now that's the last thing I want to...."

"Diane.....do it, damn it! You're in it!"

"That's real funny Pattie."

"Not funny, not a joke."

I kept staring at her as she moved past me, slammed my mug - once full of tea - onto the coffee table, grabbed up the paper, fumbled to open it to a specific spot and threw it into my lap.

"There. Real. Not funny. Explain."

Explain she'd said. I was staring at a newspaper photo with AP listed as the source. A photo I knew was or had been in more than one paper and on more than one continent by now. It was getting a bit surreal seeing this picture of a private moment I'd voiced concerns over only a few seconds after whomever had taken it, had apparently taken it. I sat with my hands on either edge of the page, pulling at it's sides like attempting to straighten it was going to make me or him or both of us disappear from the picture. Instead I threw it on the floor.

"Oh jeezus Christ, fuck all."

I got up and walked towards the window.

"How the, mon dieu. Merda Santo. Damn it!!"

"Diane.....what...does it say?"

Colin Firth, di attore, col suo amico di scrittore e cronometra spesso il compagno. Forse anche spesso?

"It says he and I are pretty much fucked and his life is a total mess right about now."

"No it doesn't. Amico is friend isn't it? The di is of and it ends in a question. I don't know Italian, but I can figure some things out."

I turned back leaning against the window.

"It says something close to; "Colin Firth, actor, with his writer friend and sometimes companion, often times," close to that I think."

"And? What's the question?"

"The question is stupid, rhetorical."

"Give the damn translation before I get really mad at you."

I stoically returned to the chair, picked up the paper and straightened it out. I wanted to verify in my head what the question was before I answered her. I slapped the picture with the back of my hand.

"It says.  It says....perhaps too often."

"Perhaps they're right."

I let my hand and the page relax to my side and glared at her.

"Damn it Pat. This isn't supposed to happen."

"What the hell did you expect Diane?"

I started to say something. Instead I fell back into the soft chair that now gave no comfort to an achy body and a slightly horrified mind. I gazed over at my friend who, much to my surprise looked deeply concerned, not aghast as I might have anticipated.

"So what does it have to say, it is tenable?"

"What?"

"The ah, blurb underneath there."

"Don't know, I haven't even begun to assess it."

"Well, I think it might be wise to do so before you go off half cocked."

"It can't be any worse, can it?"

Then she stood up, hands on her hips walked over and got in my face.

"You two. Jeezus. Do you ever think things like this could get out? Do you ever think about anything at all; I mean besides having sex, when you get together? You knew from day one it was stupid to ever get involved. You've been playing with fire so long..............you know it burns eventually."

"I tried to tell him................."

"Read it. And cut the Italian, just the translation will suffice."

Colin Firth, a British actor, and part time resident of Umbria, was recently in Los Angeles on a tour to help promote the release of his new movie. While he was there he also attended an awards ceremony of the Writer's Guild of America in which he participated as a presenter. The award he presented was for the best new author of the year as determined by the membership of the Guild. This year's honor went to a long time friend of Mr. Firth, seen above in the photo with him. Diane DeMore is also the author of the novel used for the screenplay of Mr. Firth's latest film and several other fine books. This photo was taken the day after the awards. Mrs. DeMore had gone out after the ceremony with friends and others from the event only to be left stranded. Owing to knowing no one else she rang her only definite contact in town, Firth, who was gracious enough to rescue her from downtown Los Angeles and return her to her hotel.
Information provided by ICM.
 

I threw the paper to the floor.

"Spin."

"Could you repeat that please?"

"Spin, they did a spin on it."

"And this would be?"

"A cover. They covered our asses."

"Who did? And how did ....?"

"Good question."

"So this is not a good thing then?"

I rolled my eyes and rolled the paper up so I wouldn't have to see the picture anymore, and threw it on the table.

"Hey, be careful, that's my souvenir newspaper."

"Couldn't you get an issue from another day? You're here a week."

"Oh no, I want this one, no doubt about it. So tell me why this isn't a good thing, the spin, as you call it."

"Pattie. Look, ok, so it is in a way. I mean most all of it is the truth. The problem is, as I see it. Who did this? Who sent this? Why did they send it? How did they come up with it? You see what I'm getting at?"

"Easy enough to figure that out. Who knew why he was there?"

"Well..."

"And why you were there, about the ceremony, the whole thing?"

"Only about two or three hundred attendees."

Pattie got up and walked around the room, getting slightly excited and definitely animated.

"No, no, don't you see? I mean who knew it all? You, him, the ceremony, what happened. I mean why you ever would have been together? That you were at your hotel? That he had taken you to your hotel and this is where the picture was taken. Think about it Diane."

"Oh, I already have."

"And?"

"Your saying Colin did this?"

"Logical, no?"

"Plausible, though doubtful."

"You don't think he would have made an attempt to quell rumors like this? I ..."

"No, but I'm more than confident who."

She finally stopped pacing and stared at me. I knew she was waiting for my response. I didn't want to say, but if I didn't she would hound me until I made good on my statement. It wasn't a bad thing. She had, after all, brought it to the fore and was really disconcerted by it all.

"It only goes that...well, he's done it before. Actors have agents Pattie. Press, publicity agents. But, oh God."

"But what?"

"Nothing, I guess."

"What the fuck ever."

"He had to ask somebody didn't he? He had to have asked Colin. Damn, he knows."

"Who knows? You're driving me nuts."

"Kit, Pattie. Jesus."

It was all I was going to be able to take for now. I was still body weary and no where near feeling even seventy-five percent like going anywhere and I had that interview tomorrow. This had only made it all much more miserable for me. I got up to head back to bed. Whether I was going to be able to sleep or get more rest remained to be seen. Fortunately the meeting was in the afternoon. I would get some driblet of repose and hopefully the extra hours would assist in the recovery; of the illness, not the anxiety, that had just been thrust upon me.

"Where's my medicines, I need to go alleviate this throbbing."

"Throat still that bad?"

"It's my head right now, but that too."

"I'll get them, they're in the kitchen. Oh and by the by you haven't read your faxes or checked your phone messages yet, don't you think you should?"

"Do you?"

"Why you asking me?"

"Why don't I like your tone saying that?"

"Go get in bed, I'll bring those with."