Both of Us by Ryan O'Neal Page A

our terrorism scare, and has to be excused for a while. So while Farrah’s filming, I watch Redmond and bring him with me to the set as often as possible. Farrah owns her craft now, and I’m moved by that newly confident girl who still wants my judgment and opinion.
    This production will prove even more physically taxing than the one in Paris. Farrah is portraying Barbara Hutton from youth through old age, and must endure long hours in the makeup chair each morning as a team of artists transforms her into a believable illusion of a woman at different stages of her life. Layers of latex, glue, and heavy pancake makeup are applied and reapplied until they achieve the desired effect. They must create molds of her head and face, which makes her look mummified. It makes me feel claustrophobic to watch. And then, after all that, her day starts, and she’s got to act for eight to ten hours.
    The public has romantic notions about being an actor, that we’re constantly pampered and served. If you traveled with Farrah and me on location, you would see the truth of this life, and like us, I’m betting you, too, would have moments when you’d catch yourself looking for the nearest exit. I’m not saying there aren’t some delicious perks. The best hotels, a car and a driver always at the ready, invitations to exclusive dinner parties, most of which we didn’t attend because Farrah’s schedule was so brutal, except of course in London, when we’re asked to dine at the American ambassador’s residence. But when you’re away from home, simple acts such as driving yourself to work and buying your own groceries become the soothing routine that you desperately miss. And sometimes the longing for home can be overwhelming. When Redmond, who’s teething, has kept us awake until the wee hours, I know as I watch Farrah leave our room in the morning that it’s going to take everything she’s got to hit her marks that day.
    But now Farrah is the consummate pro. No matter how hard she’s struggling, she shows up prepared and ready to work. Then she sheds the persona of Farrah Fawcett with all its burdensome complications, and slips into character, allowing the person she’s portraying to enfold her, become her. It’s one of the reasons she’s so good in this part, and will be nominated for another Golden Globe. It makes me feel envious at times, but I’m glad that one of us can enjoy a respite from the train wreck I’ve made of my life. We bothentered this relationship with baggage, but she brought a carry-on, and I came with a trunk.
    To offset some of the stress, Farrah and I make the most of our time together on her days off: splashing with Redmond in the pool in Morocco; giving him his first swimming lesson; shopping at the casbah in Tangiers, Farrah relishing the market’s exotic offerings, and me seeing her light up like a teenager when she successfully bargains a reasonable price for an intricate handwoven rug. I also take pleasure in doing little things for her. An inevitable reality of living in hotels is the exorbitant price of laundry. In some of these places, having underwear washed is more expensive than room service champagne. Neither Farrah nor I are cheap, but that feisty Texas girl in her doesn’t like being taken advantage of. It’s another of her qualities that I respect. I remember once she told me she got into a taxi in New York, and the cabbie tried to take the long way around to her destination. She demanded he stop the car and when he refused, she threatened him with her stiletto heel. So one day, while Farrah is on set, I gather all her delicates and wash them by hand as a surprise. When she gets back to the room and sees her bras and undies hanging neatly across the shower rod drying, she gives me an Eskimo kiss, then whispers in my ear why she loves me. It’s one of the sweetest moments of the trip. Afterward, I would always pack a bottle of Woolite whenever we traveled.
    In the years to come, I’ll