Lights, Camera, Rumblefish!

Chapter 11

LCR 11

"I swear to God, you can't keep anything straight to save your life, Essie," Matt muttered before balling up a bunch of clothes of mine and shoving them in a drawer.

"Uh, excuse me, I was organizing the drawers, thank you very much," I snapped from the bathroom. I resumed pinning my hair up in a bun.

"Yeah well you decided to leave your crap on the floor here and I come in and it's all over the place," he snapped.

"I was organizing it and I came in here to put my hair up. I'm sorry if it's hot in here. You're too cheap to pay for air conditioning," I said.

"It's a waste of money. We're gonna be in Tulsa for another month. Should I just throw away another twenty dollars on something I'm not even here to enjoy?"

"What happens when you're off traveling on some movie and I'm stuck here in the hot apartment or in the freezing bedroom."

"You're not gonna be here. If I'm out traveling and you're not with me, you're either gonna be with Cruise or Ralph or Rob or Patrick," he said.

"Why can't I stay here alone? Sometimes you treat me like I'm a toddler, Matt!"

"Because of your heart, Essie. Because of this condition with your heart!"

"So? Nothing's happened since the cardiac arrest!"

"Yes it has! You had shortness of breath just washing dishes last night," he sad.

"You need to stop. This went from caring to just plain overly protective, and frankly, I'm sick of it," I stomped my foot on the ground.

"I'm doing all of this to protect you! You just seemed to think I'm treating you like shit, but I'm not!"

"I know you're not treating me like shit. But you're treating me like a child!"

"You seem to forget that you are somewhat still a child!"

"So are you! You think you're any better?!"

"Hey! I'm the provider here. I'm giving you the bobby pins to put your hair up, and the lights to see, and the clothes to put in the goddamn drawers!"

"Why the hell do you have to say that all the time?! I know you provide everything for me! And I do try my best to provide for you!"

"Doing what? Nagging me?"

"Being a screenplay writer isn't exactly the easiest job to get into!"

"Have you even mailed anything in?!"

"Yes!"

"When?!"

"A couple weeks ago!"

"Okay so if you think you're going to be a screenplay writer, you're going to have to be able to dish out a couple short stories a week!"

"And if you're gonna be an actor, you're to have to able to dish out a couple of movies per year!"

"Don't give me crap about my acting!"

"Don't give me shit about my writing! It's hard to be a writer like this and do everything I'm doing!"

"Don't give me that crap! I'm doing my best to help you out! You coulda stayed in Tulsa and done finances, but you had to come up here! And now you're complaining about how I don't do anything and there's not enough money!" He yelled. I stepped forward out of the bathroom, coming closer.

"You're holding up production. That's why we can't afford the air conditioning or the beer you want or the goddamn plane ticket back to Tulsa!"

"We don't just have money to blow on plane tickets or beer or air conditioning!"

"Is this is what's gonna drive us apart? Money?"

"No, just plain stupidity! The lack of cleanliness, the lack of sex, the-"

"Lack of sex?! Are you kidding?! We just broke in the bed the other night!"

"I'm sorry, let me correct myself, lack of good sex!"

"You're unbelievable. I give you everything I have and you just flush it down the drain!"

"You give me nothing! You fuck me, terribly at that, and then you nag me all the time about how I don't do anything! I'm busting my ass at work!"

"Screw whatever you just said about me, but I'm not understand why busting your ass at work is not enjoyable for you! You begged for this role, you said if this was the only role you ever got, you'd be okay! And now you're holding up production and getting mad at me all the fucking time!"

"I got a lot more things going on than just getting mad at you! It's my brother, it's the paparazzi, it's my agent, it's the wedding!"

"Bullshit, you're not doing anything for the wedding!"

"Really? Really?! Because the other day I wasn't at the hospital the entire time! I was at the chapel, making sure everything was in place!"

"Really? Because I called today and everything's not in place! The priest isn't going to be in town for that!"

"Then maybe we shouldn't even get married!" He snapped. It was quiet. Way too quiet. My heart beat faster and bigger until I felt it hitting my chest with every pump of blood. I turned and picked up a pack of cigarettes hiding underneath all the bundled clothes on the floor. I pushed them against his chest.

"Take these. And leave." His hands were shaking. He took the cigarettes, his fingers kind of brushing along my hand, but I retracted. My lip quivered. He shoved the cigarettes in his pocket before grabbing his keys on the nightstand and walking away. No sound. No whimpers. Just footsteps and the door closing.