There aren’t many places you can go when you’re famous. Dalton booked this cabin. He says it’s perfect.
The landscape is naturally beautiful. Mountains in the distance, a lake out front. He says I can relax and do whatever I want. But I don’t want to be here. This is not my idea of a good time. The cabin is cosy, has all the modern conveniences. Almost as good as Hollywood. But there are no photographers. No fans. Nothing to do.
Tony got custody of our friends after the breakup. I got custody of the blame.
He knew what I was like when he married me. He told me it was what he loved. Someone to have fun with, who wasn’t just out for their career.
At some point he did want a career, and I was out of favour. Out of favour with him: my career took off. He couldn’t keep up. Dalton says I should clear my head. He has a few roles for me when I fly back.
I don’t know if I’ll survive a few weeks here.
I have two bodyguards and the driver who goes shopping. Dalton has made sure they’re all homosexual, so I hope they’re having fun in the guardhouse. I sit on the deck in the evenings and drink wine—nothing stronger—and wait for the sun to set.
It never does. We’re somewhere Scandinavian and the staring white ball never leaves the sky. Perhaps I could have done a better job juggling my career and private life. But this feels too much like prison. A panopticon.
I arrange with the driver that we’ll go to a restaurant at the weekend. He says there’s a nice place in town, which is just what I need. He sounds like Dalton. He looks quite a lot like Dalton too.
On Saturday, I get dressed. We drive off and I nod to the bodyguards. There’s another guy, too, that I “don’t know about.” He’s more Dalton’s spy than my bodyguard. The restaurant is fine. It’s nice to get out. I eat slowly. I have two desserts. I drink. More than I should, but not enough to get me in trouble with Dalton’s spy. Yet when we leave, the sun is still there. The driver takes me back to the cabin. I sit on the deck.
I met Dalton when I started in Hollywood. He said he would take a chance on me and he did. He still does. But now he owns me. Or treats me like he does.
I miss Tony. As he got older his adenoids became worse. The sound of his breathing when we sat together was infuriating.
I have a glass of wine.
The sun is still there.
It occurs to me that I should be glad I’m not here when it would be the night sky always. Stars sparkling. Northern winds. That might suit my mood.
I read scripts for want of something better to do. Dalton has his own plans for my career, and it doesn’t really matter which roles I would like. I’m a star, he says. But I’m not yet eternal.
I don’t think I want to be.
The sun out here is eternal.
It’s awful.
I head out to the guardhouse, look in the windows to watch the three men who look like Dalton. It’s not the scene of drunken orgies, which I had sometimes imagined. One Dalton likes to read a book. There’s either a film on the television, or sports. The other two watch it.
They nearly caught me last night. Branches lay on the ground. I crackled a couple as I moved from one window to the next. My plan is to sneak in when they’re in bed.
They have guns, which I don’t think is legal.
It’s exciting, though.
The driver said the seasons change soon, which means the sun will disappear.
That’s what I’m waiting for.
I’ve been to visit them a few times. They were surprised. I know the guardhouse inside out, I’ve picked my favourite Dalton. As soon as the sun is gone, I’m going to pay him a visit. I’ve unlatched his window from the inside.
I’m going to creep in and give him a surprise.
Liven things up around here.
As soon as the sun has gone.
