Phantom Houseguest

June 29, 2012


A couple of weeks ago a dear friend mentioned that her dear friend’s son was in our fair city shooting a movie and that the hotel situation was not working out so well for him.  Before I could really ponder what I was saying I blurted out, “He can stay at our house!  We love having houseguests!”  Which we do.  So he did.  A few nights later, this dashing-twentysomething-Hollywood–golden-boy-gentleman-actor showed up at my house long after my husband and I had counted sheep for the evening.  Even in my deepest slumber, I was prepared for him.  I had left him notes, keys, flowers, black arrows pointing towards his room and, yes, a chocolate on his pillow.  The next morning I knocked on his door, with a fresh cup of coffee in my hand, to ask him to move his car so I could drive off into my day.  The young man was as polite and friendly as anyone a mother or child could hope to claim and, as it turns out (according to Google anyway), movie man’s girlfriend is the gorgeous and wholesome daughter of _____________, who is much loved and respected throughout the movie industry.   Golden Boy was horrified that he had inconvenienced me with his parking snafu.  We made quick work of this exchange, bid each other farewell and I told him I would see him later.  He told me that his shooting schedule was erratic, but that he would try not to wake us if he came in late.   How thoughtful is that?   Also, he was drop dead gorgeous.  Not that I generally notice such trivial details, but at some level such things just cannot be overlooked.  He delicately told us that his shooting schedule could go on for two to three weeks, but if that was a problem for us, he would make other arrangements.  How thoughtful!  What a doll!  As far as I was concerned, however, he could just move on in.  I didn’t even mind replacing the flowers, chocolates and linens daily.  And his personal laundry was no problem either, for I just collected it after he left for work, washed and folded it and placed it on his bed with a note…like a fairy godmother.  Easy breezy.   My husband rolled his eyes and rudely suggested that perhaps my attention to the young man was a “little over the top,” but what does he know?  I ignored his ungracious comments and focused on being a proper hostess.

Golden Boy’s presence was somewhat surreal for the next couple of weeks because I never saw the poor thing.  With his working so hard and all, he just wasn’t around much, but I was determined to make his stay comfortable and effortless.  Like an oasis in a desert.   Daily I changed out the flowers, chocolates, notes, linens and laundry, and if that meant I had to rearrange some of my usual responsibilities, so be it.  This poor child must be exhausted and his mother would be pleased that I was caring for him in such a conscientious manner.  All became routine until the pack of ten year old girls in the neighborhood discovered that he was in residence.  Not to criticize these little girls, but they became somewhat….well….obsessed with MY houseguest.  Interlopers.  So silly.  They wanted to leave him notes asking for his autograph and such.  Ah well.  Children will be children.  So silly, but I acquiesced and agreed to place their little notes on his bed during the day, right next to my own, so that he would see them when he returned at night.  As I suspected would happen, the next morning as I collected his laundry, I saw his written responses to the pre-teen pack.   He left each one her own note along with his autograph.   Additionally, he offered to collect autographs from other cast members.  His notes were appropriate and gentle as he carefully signed each one, “From, ___________.”  Not “Love, ___________,” or anything remotely inappropriate.  He answered their questions about his movie, gently telling them that it may be a little too scary for them right now.  Darn straight!  Although I abandoned my duties to him for a few days to visit with a girlfriend at the beach, my husband tells me that Golden Boy made it a point to welcome the little girls and one of their mothers onto the movie set for autographs, introductions and photo ops.   Oh.  How nice.  Uh.  Hmmmm.  I am so happy for them all.  Hmmm. I wonder if he will be there when I return.  Maybe I should cut this beach thing short.  The poor boy might be starving and filthy.  Actually, too much sun is not healthy anyway.


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