George
Here we went again. I couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t cope with anything else. I was spread so thinly against the schedule at hand, and I’d started just leaving my headphones off and my phone on silent so I could just try to at least tick off the meetings.
I was still failing, and now I was being dragged by the arm into Gina’s dressing room, by the woman herself.
It wasn’t actually a room, more like a curtained-off area in the corridor where the floor was littered in sparkly dust and old coffee cups. And I honestly did not have the time for this, not now, probably not ever. I half hissed that in her face, as her grip tightened on my wrist.
At least she lowered her voice.
“Shit is about to hit the fan. My management is pulling me out today. I’m not mad about it.”
My breathing was calm. Steady. Not unexpected. Not that I was privy to that kind of information, but Kirsten had turned up with her blazer ripped at the back, and she was missing half of her false eyelashes. The ones on the right.
I hadn’t bothered to point that out. Also, Alastair hadn’t turned up for the past two days, which had further added to my workload.
I wasn’t going to look at my phone. Too many missed calls. Too many messages. All the expectations and no time to even breathe.
“I know this is your first gig, and you’ve done well. Whatever happens, don’t let the fuckers get to you. If you need to walk, you need to walk right now. Head held high. You hear me, kid?”
“I need this job,” I whispered. The desperation was there; I was just masking it well. Like everything else.
I was a mess on the inside. Sheer panic flowing through my veins, every second of the day.
He wasn’t here. He was running some goddamn kids camp by the seaside, and I hated that he was out there in the fresh air running down beaches having fun…when I was slowly dying on the inside.
I hated that he wasn’t here.
That he monopolised the inside of my head but wasn’t in my bed.
Whoever had marked me down on my final English exam could do one, because for all I cared? I was the master of fucked-up wordings. And they were everywhere in my head. All the time.
“George,” she hissed. “You can’t zone out. Not today. Not now. Give me your phone.”
“My phone?” I gave her my phone.
My phone. Because this shitty company couldn’t even give me a company one.
“I’ve put my number in as G,” she said, tapping away at the screen. “Keep it safe. I promise you, whatever you decide, whatever you choose to do? You will work again. And if you can’t find work, you ring me because I answer my goddamn phone. I suggest you do too. I have your number now, kiddo.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“You’re good. You’re really good at what you do. It’s this company. This show. These people. It’s not all like this, I promise you. There are really good people around. Great productions. Good times. We just picked the short straw here.”
I thought I nodded.
“You’ll be fine. I’m not telling you what to do, but you need to be prepared. Have your shit in order. Be ready. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. But I…I nodded. I nodded so hard I thought my neck would snap off.
My vision had this ability to zone out when I got overwhelmed. When there were too many things I had to handle at the same time. When the voices shouting at me became too much.
Like now, when someone was howling for me to step out of the way, and there was some kind of huge argument going on between two people whose names I couldn’t for the life of me remember. The camera was pivoting in front of me as I ducked and slid down the back corridor.
Production office. I needed to see Storm, and I needed to charge my tablet so I could upload some documents into the cloud, and I needed to get the timesheet adjusted and…and.
Fear. It was there, constantly, like a weight on my shoulders I couldn’t shift. This job, I could do. I knew how to do things; I knew where to put things. I could move things and stack tasks, and I could get my thoughts in order, and I could…
It was never enough. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t as fast and as smart and as on the ball, and I thought too much and too hard, and I would never…
I was scared. I was really, really scared.
It wasn’t just what Gina had said earlier. That was just words with no substance. A warning for no reason more than what I knew.
This was going to hell, and I was right at the helm, doing nothing to stop it.
I wasn’t…
It hit me out of nowhere, the realisation almost knocking me off my feet. I was suddenly leaning against the wall, my glasses far too low on my nose. I couldn’t actually make myself push them back up.
I was doing this to myself. Because I wasn’t speaking up. I wasn’t saying no to everything that was so clearly wrong. And here I was on my way to give Storm a bollocking because we were missing a whole page of prompts for the afternoon group session and I…I…
I should have said no. I should have put an end to everything, even if it had meant that I had shot myself in the foot.
I was scared of everything, but mostly I was scared of myself.
And right there was someone leaving the office with tears running down their face. I didn’t know their name either, and that was… I was…
I was frightened. Terrified. Horrified at the surge in my stomach, because any second now, I would throw up all over myself. Even so, I moved my feet. One step in front of the other. Moving. Getting things done.
The production office wasn’t empty. Instead the chairs were occupied by strangers in suits. Faces I hadn’t seen before, and there was Kirsten with a face full of smarmy thunder.
“George,” she barked as my body came to a firm halt.
I stood there, my arms full, and the phone in my pocket once again vibrating.
I’d forgotten to turn that off. I should have. And now it was going off, and I…
“Can we step out for a minute,” someone said, holding their hand out as if to greet me.
The air in the room was thick. A vibe I recognised.
This wasn’t good. Not friendly. Not safe and definitely not a vibe where pleasant words would be spoken.
This was a room full of fake concern and bad ideas, and I wasn’t about to let it engulf me.
Because I was better than this. I was stronger than this. Smarter.
I was loved.
For the first time ever, those words in my head made sense. He’d said them. And now, all of a sudden? I believed them. Because nothing else mattered here. Everything else was just puffs of air.
“He’s my floor manager,” Kirsten shrieked. “This is my company; it’s still my decision.”
Words of desperation. I’d been here long enough now to understand how she functioned under pressure. This room? A boiler about to blow.
“You can’t do this.” She barked. “You simply can’t.”
“I understand your frustration, but the fallout from the network contract breach means you are no longer funded, and we have to be seen to make the structural changes needed to reflect that. This production is being shut down with immediate effect, and as such...”
I had no idea who was speaking, some stranger in a suit, but it wasn’t important. And here I was, standing in the middle of the room with my hand held out in a weird stop gesture. My head held high. My back straight.
I was loved. I was so loved. And for a millisecond of enlightenment? I smiled. Because he loved me. He loved me and I loved him, and what the actual fuck? Why was I here when I should be with him? What was the point of all this terrible fear?
I loosened my tie. Swallowed. Took a deep breath.
“That’s it,” I said sternly. “Enough. Good luck and all that, but no more. This resource?”
I grinned. “Is out of here.”
“You can’t just leave!” Kirsten shouted.
“There are terms and conditions…” The suit in front of me spoke. Their mouth was moving. I wasn’t listening.
My life was truly a Lana del Rey song as I turned around and left, removing my ID from around my neck and letting it drop to the floor. I moved in slow motion, letting my hand comb through my hair. Papers falling to the floor as the sound of the tablet smashing felt like music to my ears.
Invisible backdrops. The beat dropping as I kicked the door open and walked outside.
Fear. Where was the fear?
I was good.
I was loved.
I had been such a fool thinking I could do this. It wasn’t for me. Never would be.
My phone was in my hand, and I clicked on the green. Smiled as the call connected.
“Hi, baby,” he said. I wanted to cry. I didn’t.
Bigger. Stronger. Smarter.
Better than this.
“I need you,” I said instead. “I love you and I need you. I need you to come get me, and I need all of this to change. Because I don’t want to be scared anymore. Not of you and not of this, and I want it all.”
“ ‘Video games’,” he said, and I burst out laughing.
“ ‘Video games’. My favourite song. Ever.”
“Five-star lyrics, baby.”
“ ‘White Mustang’ has nothing on ‘Video games’.”
He sounded out of breath.
“Where are you?” I asked. I could have looked.
Checked his location. I hadn’t. I’d been too busy thinking I was something I wasn’t.
I definitely wasn’t. The realisation felt like cotton clouds under my uncomfortable shoes.
I wanted to kick them off and leave them behind, right here in the street.
I was still walking. Nowhere to go. Bus stop?
I needed him.
“I’m on the beach, but I’m leaving now. Family emergency.”
“What emergency?” I questioned, letting my heart jolt.
“You, baby.” He grinned from my screen. “You need me? I’ll come. If I set off now, I should be at yours in what, two hours or something?”
“I love you.”
I’d said it before, but not like this. Like I meant it.
I did. I was me and I was short and I was ridiculous and my glasses were steaming up again, but I did…
I loved him. And he loved me. And what the hell was going on because now I was running down the road, towards the bus stop, and he was laughing at me, running along some beach too far away from me.
“Drive fast,” I huffed.
“For you? I’d fly if I could. Don’t fall over. I’ll see you at home.”
“I’ll change the sheets.”
“I was thinking,” he said, slowing down and leaning on his car. That stupid old car.
I thought I loved it too. Just seeing it made this real. Like it was actually…something that was mine. My life. My reality. My stupid beating heart.
“I want to take you home. Let you meet the family. All that.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling harder than I actually needed too.
“You’re leaving early, that’s not like you.” He looked at me. Really looked.
“I love you,” I said again. “And you were right. I am…better than this…now.”
“You always were.” He smiled. “Now go home, have a nap and get ready to be loved.”
I laughed. How absurd this was. How funny. How…
How absolutely right.