Chapter 2

A few days later, Brenda showed up again.

This time, Mike was home.

We were in the kitchen, I was making pasta, Mike was telling me about a difficult client.

The doorbell rang.

Mike went to get it.

I heard Brenda' s voice, high and theatrical.

"Johnny! My darling Johnny Starlight! You haven' t aged a day!"

I walked into the living room. Brenda had pushed past Mike and was now standing in the middle of our rug, one hand on her hip, the other extended dramatically towards him. She wore a garish, cherry-red dress that looked like a bad prom outfit from decades ago, and a feather boa that was shedding.

Mike looked completely bewildered, backing away slightly.

"Brenda? What are you doing here?"

"Brenda?" She let out a tinkling, artificial laugh. "Oh, Johnny, you always were such a kidder on set, it' s me, Lila! Your Lila LaRue!"

She lunged forward and tried to take his hands. Mike sidestepped her.

"Remember that scene in 'Tropical Midnight' ? By the waterfall? The dialogue was dreadful, but our chemistry, darling, it was electric!"

She struck a pose, looking expectantly at Mike.

He just stared, his mouth slightly open.

I stepped forward. "Brenda, this isn' t a movie set, and he' s my husband, Mike."

My voice was flat, no room for argument.

Brenda turned to me, her eyes narrowing slightly behind the thick mascara.

"Ah, the little stand-in, always so protective, but Johnny knows, don' t you, darling? Our connection is timeless."

Mike finally found his voice. "Brenda, I... I think you' re confused, I' m Mike, Sarah' s husband."

"He' s just shy, Sarah dear," Brenda said, waving a dismissive hand at me. "The cameras always made him a little nervous at first."

She then turned back to Mike, her voice softening to a conspiratorial whisper.

"They' ve tried to keep us apart, Johnny, new lives, new faces, but destiny, my love, destiny cannot be denied."

This was beyond anything I' d imagined. My initial annoyance was turning into genuine concern, and a growing anger.

"Brenda, you need to leave," I said.

"But the scene, we haven' t even rehearsed!"

"There is no scene," I told her, walking towards the door and opening it. "Show' s over."

Brenda looked from me to Mike, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, then she huffed.

"Very well, if the ingénue insists on being difficult, but Johnny, I' ll be back, our story isn' t finished."

She swept out, boa feathers drifting in her wake.

Mike let out a long breath. "What... what was that?"

"That," I said, closing the door and locking it, "is Jessica' s mother-in-law, and I think she' s seriously unwell."

Mike looked pale. "She actually thinks I' m someone else?"

"Apparently, someone named Johnny Starlight."

He ran a hand through his hair. "This is... incredibly creepy."

I agreed. It was incredibly creepy. And it was just the beginning.

Brenda started calling our apartment multiple times a day, asking for "Johnny." If I answered, she' d sigh dramatically and say, "Oh, it' s just the assistant again, put Johnny on the line, dear."

If Mike answered, she' d launch into monologues about their supposed past lives, their on-screen kisses, their tragic off-screen separation.

Mike started letting all calls go to voicemail.

Then came the demands.

She' d leave notes taped to our door.

"Johnny, Lila requires her afternoon bonbons (the ones with the cherry filling) and a sarsaparilla. Fetch them, darling. Room service is so unreliable these days."

Or, "Sarah, dear, be a good girl and press Johnny' s white linen suit, we have a premiere to attend in my dreams tonight."

I threw the notes in the trash.

She started showing up at the grocery store when I was there, "accidentally" bumping into my cart.

"Oh, hello dear, just picking up a few things for Johnny, he always did love my cucumber sandwiches, crusts off, of course."

She' d try to peer into my basket, commenting on my choices.

"Canned tuna? Oh, Johnny would never, he has a much more refined palate, as you' ll learn."

Mike was getting more and more agitated. He started looking over his shoulder when we went out.

"She' s everywhere, Sarah."

"I know, Mike, I know."

I was trying to be the calm one, the pragmatic one, but her constant presence was grating. It felt like our life was being invaded, slowly, bizarrely.