The Oscars Night

Today, the couple of the last two decades will walk on the red carpet of the most important event in the cinephile world. We will see the whole family. The sublime Hollywood actor along with his wife and daughter on a perfect stage. We all know that the actor has accustomed us to those speeches thanking his wife and his daughter. The last time he held one of those statues in his hands, we ended up in tears with the speech full of love he gave to his family, leaving in the background an award that others yearn for their entire career.

Tonight, not only will we be able to see one of the best couples in Hollywood, but also a master, a man who knows how to conquer the biggest audience in the world, a man who knows how to give thanks, a man who knows how to love. A man who, when asked about his wife, always responds: "She is my world."

Who has not seen one of his movies? Who has not heard one of his phrases? Who has not fallen in love with him? I, personally, cannot stop admiring him, and not just because he is one of the best actors of all time. He is a man who has known how to lead his life in a marvelous way.

The movie he stars in, 'Look at Me,' is among the ten most nominated films in history. Fourteen nominations. It's an open secret that the statue for best actor is more than secured.

What will he say in his speech? What can we expect from him? Surely he will leave us breathless, as always.

I visualize my family from the stage. My wife and daughter sitting in the first row clapping proudly because I just won another one of the statues, and this time as the leading actor in a moving drama that captivated the big screen. I smile. Happy. Perhaps all this that I have achieved at just thirty-five years old is what I have been searching for all these years. I am at the pinnacle of fame. I have a fortune thanks to my work as an actor and entrepreneur that can allow several generations of my family to live without lifting a finger. But not everything that glitters is gold, or so my head tells me sometimes. I smile at the audience.

"Good evening. Once again it's my turn to return to the stage," everyone laughs because it's the fifth time I've gone up to the stage to receive awards for my latest movie. "This time it's an individual award, which we all deserve, the team behind the camera and those who have accompanied me in front of it. It's thrilling to experience this alongside the best and with my family close by. I am very happy. I really wanted to win because I am very proud of 'Look at Me' and I want many people to see the movie. I express part of what I say tonight through signs because, while making the movie, we all became more aware of the mental illnesses that imprison us. One in eight people suffers from a mental disorder. They are the invisible diseases that we know exist, but that we are not able to handle without being professionals. I know many people often say that all the roles that earn them worldwide recognition are their best role. I, now, here, in front of all of you, want to tell you that it is the most difficult role I have had to embody on the big screen. It was hard for me to get into the role. I am a victim of perfectionism. I spent sleepless nights practicing in front of a mirror all those faces you see in the movie. I would like to send a big round of applause to my wife for enduring my nights and my grumpy days," the entire audience applauds the woman who appears on the big screen.

"Victoria, my love, I love you. To my daughter, Olivia, I love you madly. Forgive your dad for putting you on a pedestal and adoring your smile. I love you, dear family," tears escape me that the cameras around me manage to capture. "I love you, grandpa," I look up remembering that grandfather I lost when I was fifteen, "because you taught me what it means to be a hardworking person. To you, mom," I look at the mother who gave birth to me sitting next to her granddaughter, "for loving and protecting me. To my sister who is staring at me from somewhere on this planet, I tell you again that I miss you. To my father, I thank you for the support. You are the people of my life, the ones I want to be proud of me. Finally, I want to thank the Academy for this honor and for this award. Thank you for letting me be part of this glorious moment. Thank you."

Once I finish my speech and with the applause in the background, I head with the statue to the unoccupied place that is waiting for me next to my family. The ceremony continues without any problems. After the ceremony, the whole family, except for my mother who went to the hotel to spend the night with her current partner, we head towards the house.

The ride home is silent on my wife's part. My daughter is different. She is a sweet seventeen-year-old teenager who adores me. A thirty-five-year-old guy being the father of a girl who is almost eighteen? The answer is very simple. When you are a teenager, romantic and crazy, you tend to run faster than the are the

best.

“Your speech was the best.”

And her, this blonde girl with blue eyes, is the best thing I have. I adore her. She is my Achilles' heel. If you want to mess with me, try touching a hair on her head. If you want to anger me, talk about her without your eyes shining with tenderness.

"My beautiful girl sure knows how to praise her daddy."

"Do you know who loves you the most in this world?"

"Mmmm," I roll my eyes, "maybe, I don't know, my mother?"

"I am the person who loves you the most," she states her great truth.

"I love you, my life."

"Leave some of this mutual adoration exercise for another day. You've been saying how much you love each other for an hour."

I glance at my daughter with a furrowed brow.

"Does it bother you that I tell my daughter I love her, darling?"

"No, you always say what you want when you want. After all, you are David O'Ryan."

"Yes, you're right," I smile sarcastically and then say, "Now shut up and stop nagging me with your bitterness."

"Why don't you go party with your friends as always?"

"It's a special day and I want to be with my daughter, who happens to also be your daughter. Can't you stop picking fights for once in your life?"

"I'm sick of it, David."

Oh, Lord, this is awful. Please, someone kill me.

"Deal with it and shut up," I pronounce in a not-so-friendly tone. "Don't put on this cheap show every time you see me happy."

"You put on the show yourself, darling."

"I may love you a lot, Victoria, but I have my limits."

"Are there still levels you haven't surpassed?"

"The child is here," I say through clenched teeth. "Be careful with everything you say."

"Olivia is blind now with you. I trust she'll open her eyes soon."

"Mom, Dad, please, stop arguing," the apple of my eye tells me, and because I adore her, I force a smile looking at the woman who is looking at me with hatred. "I love you both. You have to stop doing this."

"Sorry, daughter. I'm sorry," I apologize, giving her kisses on the cheek. "Your mom and I are two young adults who still argue for no reason," I wink at my wife to tone down the bad mood that's exhausting me.

"I'm sorry, Olivia."

We arrive home without saying another word. Olivia is the first to get off to go straight to her room where her best friend is waiting for her.

"Are you coming up or staying here, my husband?"

"Of course, I'm coming up. We have a lot to talk about."

"Okay."

We live in a mega mansion that has everything imaginable. Forty bathrooms and twenty bedrooms. A disco, a room for charity events, a wine cellar for more than eight thousand bottles, a theater, a bowling alley, a golf course on the rooftop, five swimming pools, a hair salon, a spa with all services, a guest house of almost three hundred square meters, a huge outdoor terrace with cabins, a casino, among other luxuries. It's the largest house in Bel Air ever made. Around two hundred million euros cost the whim that my wife decided to buy.

The good thing about living here is that it doesn't matter the argument I have or how much I shout, almost no one here ever sees me bitter. The most important thing for me is that my daughter doesn't see me in a certain state.

We arrive at the matrimonial suite, which is about fifty meters away from our daughter's. She is in the east wing, and we are in the west.

Victoria closes the door, making sure no one interrupts us.

"What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you doing with your life?"

She is the first to shout of the two of us.

Victoria is a woman with character. I think the first thing that caught my attention back in the day was her strength when talking to her father, that producer who signed me to be the actor of teenage blockbusters. We met at fifteen. At seventeen, she got pregnant, and at twenty-one, we got married. Now both of us are thirty-five and have a teenage daughter. It was love at first sight. I confirmed that she is the woman who will always be in my life when she had Olivia. I don't think I've ever been happier in my life than the day I saw her born.

All these years as a couple and we still can't manage this relationship like two adults. Sometimes I want to leave her and go live far away from all the problems with Olivia. I can't. It would devastate my daughter to see us separated. And I am a fanatic of determination. Of will. Of control. I decide the direction my life will take. I decide whether to continue or leave it. Screw everyone. The world can kiss my ass. But in that world, if Olivia is involved, I sacrifice myself.

"What the hell are you doing with your life?" I respond in the same tone.

"I'm tired of this. Why are you insistent on selling yourself as the exemplary father and husband when you're worse than Satan? Do you have any idea of the damage you do by leaving that message for all those people who consider you a demigod?"

Her body tenses up as she sees me approach her. She is my wife. She loves me. She adores me. She is the woman who is capable of doing everything just to see me happy.

"Are you jealous or what?" I ask her, trapping her between my two hands on the wall.

I laugh.

I know her.

Do you see the blush on her cheeks and the slight surprise that her expression reveals? Do you see how she straightens up, looks me in the eyes, and then at the ceiling?

I'm getting closer with my mouth to her face. She also desires me. She's holding back. But it's there, what we have. That attraction that never dies. I could end this anger with a kiss. I could get my act together to remind her how much she turns me on. Or give her a kiss to remind her that she is the great love of my life. I could, but I don't want to.

"Please, David, mature," she whispers, unable to move away from me. "Don't be cynical. You are who you are because I, whether you want to acknowledge it or not, helped you achieve it. Remember very well that we started this together."

"And together we are as long as it doesn't occur to you to sink everything because of your jealousy."

"You've slept with half of Hollywood, David!"

Eh, eh, eh, eh, don't get ahead of yourselves thinking I'm the villainous unfaithful husband who doesn't respect his wife. Things are not like that. There's room to tell my side of the story.

She's been in this foul mood for a week because of what she saw. Yes, gentlemen, yes, of course, it's true. I had a crazy night at a party with a model who drove me crazy, and my wife appeared out of nowhere in the room and saw what she shouldn't have seen. She knows that sometimes I lose my head and I cheat on her. It wasn't the first time. It was the first time I did it without excusing myself by saying that I've been harassed by almost the women I sleep with. I'm a self-centered brat who's got the hang of infidelity.

My dear wife realized I was overly interested in the woman who starred with me in the last perfume campaign we launched. I didn't hide my interest. My eyes were drawn to the model's face and body.

When she saw me with her in a compromising position without clothes—I want to clarify that nothing happened like you're imagining—, she unleashed all her madness by grabbing the woman by the hair. She dragged her out of the room after leaving me lying on the bed, threatening me with a weapon.

"Do you hear yourself?" I ask her, my eyes wide open in disbelief.

"Yes, I hear myself."

"You sound pathetic screaming that you know I sleep with other women," I whisper, sniffing her neck.

I'm addicted to her scent.

"And you are a pig who isn't embarrassed. Why don't we end this thing we have and each go our way?"

Because you won't allow it.

"Do you want me to draw you a diagram to explain the end of this if you dare to sink the image we've built together?"

"I know full well what's going to happen," she says, tilting her head, giving me room to give her pleasure on the neck.

I give her several sweet kisses and a bite.

"Then don't annoy me, Victoria," I reply. "We're fine, that's what we have to sell."

"What a hypocrite!"

"It's just that, love, life is for hypocrites," I bring my mouth to her face and give her a kiss on the cheek. "Or not? Do you quickly forget the effort you put into everything that makes you the wife of the perfect man you married? Isn't this what you've coveted from minute one?"

"I've fallen into my own trap. How could I let it get so out of hand?"

"Because you're as ambitious as I am, darling. You like the risk."

"I'm not happy."

"And who says that?"

"Me."

"And what does it matter?"

"You're a born jerk and ungrateful," she pushes me a step back.

"And you're crazy," I raise my voice.

"Don't you dare yell at me!"

"What? You don't want me to yell? Well, listen. If this goes to hell, Victoria, you will be responsible. I won

't allow you to destroy it just because. I won't allow it," I take a step towards her and gently push her against the wall. "Do you understand me?"

These attitudes that scream that I'm a toxic husband are not mine. She likes it when I emphasize my love for her in this way.

"How dare you?"

"How do I dare?" I raise my voice for the second time and give her a quick kiss on the mouth. "I dare because I love you. And if you complain so much that I don't show you enough my love, here's the proof. Do you hear me?" I run my tongue over her mouth. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes!"

"That's how it is, darling," I say, sweetening my voice. "We are a family. We have a daughter in common. We've made a fortune together. I'm the king of the big screen because you are in my life. Do you understand how important you are to me?"

I should have told her last night when I had the chance. I should have explained to her how much she means to me. What I feel for her. I thought I would have time before going to the Oscars. I imagined I could gradually make her understand.

"It destroys me that you say something nice after sinking me into misery."

"You're determined to see the bad, damn it. Don't you see all I'm capable of doing for you?"

"What do you do for me?" she asks, and I laugh. "Sleep with all the women you please?"

"Is that what bothers you?"

"No. What bothers me is that you're not capable of being faithful to a woman who has given you the person you love the most."

"What made you change?" I ask her, getting closer.

"Change?"

"Yes. What made you change? You used to be a sweet and passionate woman."

"And you were the boy who only had eyes for me."

"Let's not start..."

I sigh.

I hate when we bring up past issues. Not because I'm the bastard who deserves to die, no. I hate it because of how disastrous some decisions were.

"I don't want this."

"And if I told you that has changed?"

"How?"

"And if I told you I will stop sleeping with women who mean nothing to me?"

"And why would you do that?"

"Because I love you. Because I'm a fucking cocaine addict when it comes to my family."

I'm half sincere. I'm walking a very fine line. And yet, even though there's a chance she might tell me to fuck off, I'm 99.9 percent convinced Victoria will never leave me. She's too much like me. She wants this. She wants the family we have. And she wants to keep this family together as long as possible. She would kill me with her own hands if I even utter the word divorce.

"Don't promise me what you won't fulfill. I'm tired. I've been with you for twenty years and I know you've cheated on me even with my own sister. Stop lying to me, damn it!"

The thing with her sister needs explaining. It wasn't as she says. Nothing happened because I was the one who stopped my wife's sister. The girl threw herself at me at one of those fashion events that gather so many celebrities. She was the organizer of the event. It was in a bathroom. Public! The crazy sister of my wife wanted to eat me in a public bathroom after leaving her sister the mess of her job. What did I do? Reject her. Damn. She went crazy. She became even crazier when I set the record straight, running at the speed of light to her sister to tell her that I, David O'Ryan, had tried to kiss her on the mouth and suggested we go to a hotel. Thank goodness that crazy girl has a history with her exes that saved me from what could have come my way.

I don't feel like digging up more dirt from the past.

I decide to swallow that answer with the truth and look at her sincerely.

"I love you, Victoria," I tell her, touching the key that deactivates our problems.

"Do you know what I find hardest to bear? That you have Olivia eating out of your hand, and she's been aware that something has been going on between us for a long time."

"Olivia knows what she needs to know. She knows that for my family, I'll do what I have to do. You are all I have."

"Ha," she laughs sarcastically. "Why do you still see me as a fool?"

I sigh.

"Damn, Victoria, I'm trying to fix it. Tone it down a bit."

"I need to be alone for a while."

"Do you want me to leave the house?"

"Do you want Olivia to send me to hell? She prefers to have you close more than me."

"Well, I don't want you to leave the house."

"Nobody is going to leave the house," she states.

"We have a guest house. I'll live there while you cool off."

I start walking towards the closet. I intend the opposite effect of what my steps are indicating. She doesn't know how to live without having me close. She won't let me leave the suite no matter how angry she is.

She doesn't take long to follow my steps. She sees me taking out a backpack and grabbing some clothes.

She sighs.

"I don't want to live separately."

"Why?"

"I've spoken with that journalist who is obsessed with you and with pleasing her readers by talking about how well you do everything."

"And?"

"The producer is preparing something big."

"Explain."

"They're interested in hiring her as the host for the documentary."

Did I tell you that my wife is my agent?

"We've already talked about this. I don't want documentaries or any of that shit."

In addition to my wife, she is the daughter of a powerful producer who opened the doors for her in the Hollywood industry, taking her to the top as a manager of some of the most promising film stars. She's been managing my career for a decade. Plus, she's a shareholder in a major film production company. Not to mention her large investments in the fashion and beauty world.

But being her best represented, she still doesn't understand that I have my issues with public appearances. I like the fame thing and being the top dog as much as the next guy, but I don't like people knowing too much about my private life. And the fucking bastard of her father, who owns the production company, sees me as a gold mine and is not willing to stop receiving big bucks every time my face appears in theaters.

I've known about that damn documentary for over a year, although they've been toying with the idea of making a documentary about me since Olivia was born.

"I'm an actor; not a TV celebrity," I tell her again for the umpteenth time. "The little pleasure of fame I have as an actor is that I can keep part of my private life for my family. I don't want Olivia to be recognized for what is said or not said in that documentary. I don't want them to analyze every word we say in that documentary."

She presses her lips together with determination.

"We're not hiding anything."

"You're wrong. We're an ocean of secrets and, both you and I, this documentary thing doesn't suit us. Plus, that journalist is obsessed with me. She's hung up! Wasn't there a better option?"

"She idolizes you."

"Journalists who idolize are the worst."

"I have a meeting with her tomorrow."

"If you think about the matter, you'll know that the best thing is to cancel it."

"David, think about it."

"You know me. No means no."

That "no means no" doesn't work when you're a married man.

"Give her a chance at least. If you have chemistry with her, you charm her and you have her eating out of your hand. Make it easy for the production company."

"If we're going to do the documentary, it has to be with a professional with experience. You're going to bring me a journalist who writes about what I wear or don't wear."

"She's an admirer."

"I'm not interested, Victoria. The documentary will be done my way. I'll choose the host."

"Give me a name and I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"Chiara."

"Chiara Campbell?"

"Yes. She has experience and I like her."

"Is it a requirement that she be a woman you've slept with?"

Okay, okay, okay-okay, I confirm, I slept with her. She's not making it up.

"Darling, work is work. Be professional."

"Disqualified."

"Why?"

"I'm not going to bring one of your lovers into our house."

"Then give me an option worth it."

"David, tomorrow I meet with the journalist and there's no debate. If I like her, I'll tell you. If she's not worth it, we'll talk about another name."

I'm very surprised. I've always been amazed at how decisive she is when she wants to get something.

"And if not?"

"We'll discard her. We'll look for another."

"Don't bring an old hag."

"David, please, we just agreed that you're going to behave," she walks past me and takes the bag out of my hand.

"Okay," I leave her a kiss on the cheek and wink at her. "To comply with orders."

She smiles at me. That smile that says she forgives me. Is there a woman so in love that she's capable of forgiving so many infidelities? I don't think so.

"You're a stupid arrogant who always gets his way."