Chapter 11 #2
Where I hated the constant questioning as much as Oliver did, I had started to enjoy a different kind of session with Gina where she’d call me in to join her, off camera, to sit in the hair and make-up room together as she had her rollers done, quietly talking nonsense with my mic turned off, as some production person would repeatedly pop in and tell her off for not following the script or saying the wrong things or not pushing the resources enough.
Resources. We’d both flinch whenever that word was said out loud.
We were quite similar, I thought, understanding the need for things that were somehow at the same time downright rude.
Saying things that made no sense. Talking about things like they were business transactions and acting roles, instead of this being our lives.
She was nice, even off camera, despite repeatedly throwing me to the wolves and then apologising afterwards.
On camera? I felt like I was constantly trying to navigate those same leading questions.
The constant baits where I felt like I was walking a tightrope, my chest constricting as my brain tried to think of the right answer.
One that wouldn’t get me in trouble. Where they couldn’t make me sound weird.
Where I didn’t throw anyone under a bus.
What do you think of Diane? How did you feel when she said Gerald was playing her off against Anne?
When Oliver said he found Elia handsome, did that make you jealous?
Do you find him attractive? When we asked Chloe-Catherine to tell us who she thought was the biggest liar in the community here, she said you.
Why do you think she said that? No? Who did you think Chloe-Catherine should have chosen?
Nobody? Not even…say, Gerald? Do you like Gerald?
In the outside world, would you find Priti attractive?
It was not only draining and exhausting, but I was starting to get my responses muddled up.
Forgetting who I’d said did what and what the correct answer would have been.
Well, when it was all trick questions and stupid words, that could easily be manipulated to follow whatever narrative production was going with?
It didn’t matter, at least not, according to Oliver.
“I think,” he said the next morning, having once again brought me tea in bed, “That they are trying to make Chloe-Catherine the villain, bouncing around the straight guys, and she’s not doing herself any favours.
How many rooms has she been in? Every morning she’s somewhere else.
At least Wren has been constant, and Ben and Thom didn’t…
Well, did we see them yesterday? And where was Elia this morning?
It’s all a blur. The constant drama!” He blew air and shook his head, having drained his tea, once again sat on the bed, all crumpled and freshly awake, armed with today’s call sheet perched on his hairy bare legs.
I didn’t mind; I actually quite enjoyed watching him.
That pleasant, quiet hour in the morning I got to spend with him, allowing myself to not only enjoy his constant chatter, but also the simple peace he brought.
I couldn’t even start to explain how much I liked that little routine of ours.
I didn’t even mind us sleeping like this.
Him, next to me, falling asleep as I tossed and turned.
Then waking up like this, with him there in my space, talking far too much for my liking.
Yet I was liking it, this friendship we’d grown here.
The support. The constant reassurance that I wasn’t the only person going mad around here.
“So, Gerald left last night?” I questioned. “You sure?”
“We went for our walk, then when you went for your one-on-one with Gina, that’s when they started shouting in the common room, and then some enormous argument went on.
They’d removed Thom for some misdemeanour with one of the runners.
” He shrugged. “I haven’t even said anything about Ben and his wandering hands, but if he does touch me again, I might have to say something. ”
Now it was my turn to shudder because some of these young people had no sense.
“You need to say something. If you don’t? I will.”
“He’s just…you know. If you’re there, he backs off. I think he’s scared of you.”
“Nobody is scared of me,” I huffed.
“Ben scurries off as soon as you walk through the door. You’re quite…intimidating.”
I had to laugh.
“Oliver, if anyone is intimidating? It’s you. You walk into a room like you own it. Shoulders back. Head up. Eyes all…you know. Broody. If I was young and looking? I would run for the hills if you came my way. I think.”
“I’m…” He smiled, looking down at his hands.
“At work maybe. It’s different at work. There are, like, set parameters for how people are expected to behave.
Like, if I have to meet a client? They arrive.
We shake hands. I slap a proposal at them.
They fight me for terms and conditions. I pretend to back down and then slap them with another offer. We shake hands. Done. It’s easy.”
“I know what you mean.” I did, and I tried to think of something relatable to say.
The people here? They were all intimidating.
The young ones had far too much confidence.
The older people, like myself? We were all naive.
Dangerously so. Far too honest and not guarded enough, yet the kids were spurting out nonsense and…
I had to stop my train of thought. I still couldn’t for the life of me remember all the names and faces from day one, and then they’d added four more, and the lineup seemed to change on the daily.
No. No. Calm down. At least he was still here, with me.
Strangely so. Oliver. Gently watching me from under his floppy fringe.
“Do you want me to mention anything?” I asked. “I’ll be more than happy to have words, both with Ben and production. He shouldn’t be intimidating you. Nor should he be touching you.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I mean? Yes, but I don’t want to rock the boat.
I don’t… I don’t want to cause drama. I still have to be here and see these people every day.
And Elia is just as bad, but I think he’s simply being friendly.
He’s constantly hugging people and holding on to people when he talks to them.
I think he’s just touchy. Ben doesn’t touch anyone, but if I find his hand on my butt one more time? ”
“Not on,” I shot in. “At least if he’s around you, come find me. I’ll put him right.”
“You can touch him up. See how he likes unwanted attention.”
“No,” I said firmly.
“Do you mind?” he asked, more quietly than usual. “When I touch you?”
“Touch?” I wasn’t sure what he was aiming at.
“I touch you, like…” He reached out and stroked down my arm.
“You show affection. That’s one thing. I don’t mind that. Not from you.”
“We’re friends,” he replied.
“I can’t believe you’re still here, with me,” I said. I’d said the same thing every morning, and that script between us was still there. He just smiled.
“Everyone else here is nuts.” A wink. And I’d smile back.
“I enjoy your company.”
“You won’t say that next week, after they’ve wrung us out and turned us inside out and made us all argue.
That’s what they’re doing, isn’t it? Pitting us all against each other, making sure the girls are turning on anyone who even breathes their way and that the boys are behaving like… I don’t know?”
“Entitled twats,” I snuck in. Truth. “I don’t understand half of this.”
“They’re making me do the ‘How gay are you?’ test with…crap. With Ben. Well. He’ll win that hands down. I’m like…the world’s worst gay.”
“You’re good,” I said, not really knowing what he meant by that.
“I like beer. I like champagne too, and I like gin and tonics, but I have to trust my sales assistant to know what size suit to buy. Interior decorating is a mystery to me, and I…I’m… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to fit in. You know what I mean?”
A surprising admission. One I appreciated more than he knew, sat there fiddling with the corner of a paper.
“Neither do I. I just… I’m just… I’m waiting for the penny to drop. For me to understand what the whole point of this is.”
“It’s a game show, Peter. A bunch of wankers hoping for fame and fortune.”
“And here I was thinking it was a dating experiment.”
“You and everyone else. I’m sure once it’s on TV, they will have cut and edited it and made it all wildly romantic.”
“None of us know how to fit in. I don’t either. I go to these big dentistry conventions, in a cheap suit, and I stand around with a drink and have no idea what to say. It’s like you say; it’s one thing working. Socialising is different. I always feel out of place. No wonder I can’t meet anyone.”
“It’s awful. I hate it.”
I loved this. The little smile on his face. The comfort of a shared…mindset. And him.
Which was when a loud bang shattered the silence, followed by loud voices.
“I can’t bear the arguments,” he said quietly. I could see he was rattled, his breath hitching as he swallowed.
“I know.” And here I was. Stroking my hand up and down his lower arm. Like the twat I was. And the cameras were on, and…oh for heaven’s sake.
“At least they haven’t made us argue with each other yet,” he continued, tapping his fingers gently on my retreating hand. A little comfort. I felt it. I thought I needed it.
“They tried yesterday, remember? Trying to make out that you were really untidy and that I was old and backwards.”
“Yeah, and then they were pushing and pushing and…”
“Good thing you made it stop.”
“Well, my stomach was grumbling.”
He made me laugh, and I was grateful. Despite that? There was such a growing unease in me. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like all this at all.
I didn’t like the things that made me anxious. And I definitely didn’t like it when Oliver went like this. Unsure and…not the usual Oliver. The happy and confident and funny…