[ They depart from the trailer he once called his home, and everything takes a sharp down turn from there. Eddie shows up at the hospital and Wayne is unconscious, and the doctors are shuffle their feet and try to make the news that his uncle will soon be dead a little less awful. His heart shatters in a way that that is completely removed from his situation, as he stares down at the man that had given him a real shot at life. All the money in the world can't bring his uncle back, and now it's only a matter of time. It feels so impossibly unfair.
Then he has to return to his room at the Ritz and break things off. It should be easy, simple. Natalie is lounging on the king size bed and flipping through a magazine as though nothing is wrong in the world. As though her boyfriend isn't about to break up with her. As though his uncle isn't days away from death. To her credit, Natalie fights ferociously for their relationship. Eddie knows that her vitriol isn't because she loves him, but because she loves the lifestyle he provides. But she's so damn good at arguing, so practiced in getting the two of them to talk in endless circles. They both take swigs from a discarded whiskey bottle, and Eddie is half drunk and utterly exhausted by the time she finally packs up her things and leaves.
He doesn't even realize how late it's gotten when he stumbles into his sports car, feeling so raw and exposed. It's only when he parks sloppily near the restaurant that he realizes it's 10:22. He's not just running late. He's left her completely high and dry. Eddie stumbles out of his car and rushes the host stand, only to be told that the woman he describes has recently left in tears.
He races to the Crown Plaza, gets the room number of the woman that had checked in under his name. Eddie pounds at the door, making drunken declarations of love and apology. But no one answers. If he really wanted, he could march back down to the front desk and demand a key. He could force his way inside, the room's in his name, after all. Instead he just slides his credit card solemnly across the marbled counter, tell them to charge the room as long as Chrissy chooses to stay there. He has failed her so tremendously, he can't blame her for shutting him out now.
It's several weeks before he sees her again, and it's under the worst possible circumstances. Wayne had passed away mid week, and now the funeral is being held on a gloomy Saturday afternoon. There's a surprising turnout for his uncle, and he finds some comfort in the fact that so many people loved his uncle Wayne. Eddie looks exhausted and somber in his suit, at the head of everything whether he likes it or not. He's called to say a few words, but quickly dissolves into sobs.
Chrissy somehow seems so out of place here, even though she's dressed appropriately. As the crowd begins to disperse, Eddie is making a quick line towards her, catching her by the wrist. ]
Hey. [ The word sounds as hollow as he feels. He can't even bring himself to meet her gaze, his head hung low. ] Thanks for coming.
no subject
Then he has to return to his room at the Ritz and break things off. It should be easy, simple. Natalie is lounging on the king size bed and flipping through a magazine as though nothing is wrong in the world. As though her boyfriend isn't about to break up with her. As though his uncle isn't days away from death. To her credit, Natalie fights ferociously for their relationship. Eddie knows that her vitriol isn't because she loves him, but because she loves the lifestyle he provides. But she's so damn good at arguing, so practiced in getting the two of them to talk in endless circles. They both take swigs from a discarded whiskey bottle, and Eddie is half drunk and utterly exhausted by the time she finally packs up her things and leaves.
He doesn't even realize how late it's gotten when he stumbles into his sports car, feeling so raw and exposed. It's only when he parks sloppily near the restaurant that he realizes it's 10:22. He's not just running late. He's left her completely high and dry. Eddie stumbles out of his car and rushes the host stand, only to be told that the woman he describes has recently left in tears.
He races to the Crown Plaza, gets the room number of the woman that had checked in under his name. Eddie pounds at the door, making drunken declarations of love and apology. But no one answers. If he really wanted, he could march back down to the front desk and demand a key. He could force his way inside, the room's in his name, after all. Instead he just slides his credit card solemnly across the marbled counter, tell them to charge the room as long as Chrissy chooses to stay there. He has failed her so tremendously, he can't blame her for shutting him out now.
It's several weeks before he sees her again, and it's under the worst possible circumstances. Wayne had passed away mid week, and now the funeral is being held on a gloomy Saturday afternoon. There's a surprising turnout for his uncle, and he finds some comfort in the fact that so many people loved his uncle Wayne. Eddie looks exhausted and somber in his suit, at the head of everything whether he likes it or not. He's called to say a few words, but quickly dissolves into sobs.
Chrissy somehow seems so out of place here, even though she's dressed appropriately. As the crowd begins to disperse, Eddie is making a quick line towards her, catching her by the wrist. ]
Hey. [ The word sounds as hollow as he feels. He can't even bring himself to meet her gaze, his head hung low. ] Thanks for coming.