The Write Match // Bill Hader

Seven

We walk to Central Park. I walk a little ahead, knowing he's right behind me. I continue walking until I stop in front of one particular bench.

"You really want to spend the rest of the evening on a bench in Central Park?" He asks from behind me, and I turn around.

"I can call John right now and have him come spend time with me." I sass, and he raises his hands in surrender.

"I just didn't strike you as the kind of person that just enjoys sitting on a bench in a park." He jogs and sits down next to me.

"I grew up in Connecticut. My family expected me to be the best at everything I did, and I was constantly stressed. I would go to the park, pick a bench, and read or write, or whatever I felt like doing. It was just an escape from everything going on around me." I tell him and his attention is on me now. "This bench in particular was the one I always came to when I was in college, or had a bad day at work, or just a bad day in general. It's cute that you thought I was boring though." I shrug my shoulders and look at Bill. I love Central Park and my bench.

"You said I was cute." He boasts, and I look at him, rolling my eyes.

"That's not what I said and of course that was the only thing you heard out of all of that." I roll my eyes.

"You said it, but that's beside the point." He says, silence between us, but it's comfortable silence, which is something I've never experienced with anyone before Bill.

"So, this is what you did for fun?" He asks, motioning around us.

"I really never did fun and still don't. I work and sleep, sometimes I'll eat if I have spare time." I joke, and he shakes his head.

"Why?" He pushes me, and though I told myself I didn't want to do this, I didn't want to get attached or even get to know him. I can't talk to him like this, but I answer anyway.

"I don't mean this in a rude way, but it's hard to make a name for yourself when no one is supporting you. I left my hometown as soon as I graduated high school, I was seventeen years old. I came here on my own, to become successful, just like everyone wants, but the difference is... I did it for me, and I actually did it. I made a way for myself in this city, and I work hard to make sure I stay this way, so I can have a good life." I say, looking up to the Empire State Building.

"I think that's the reason I love this city so much." I see his eyes leave me and look up to the tall building. "There's really no rules, no worries, free, and careless. I work hard now, so I can be like the city one day." I shrug my shoulders, turning the conversation more nonchalant.

"So that's why you're so straight forward with me?" His voice is soft, and this is one of the few times I've seen him serious, not smiling or laughing at me.

"Not exactly, I have my reasons, but if that helps you sleep better, then sure." I shrug again.

"I'm so excited to figure you out." He breaths out and looks out over the park.

"Good luck trying, but you won't." I fight back, and get up from the bench, wandering down the path, noticing Bill and I are some of the only people
here.

"What's it like working on a live show?" I ask, knowing he's walking behind me even though I can't see him.

"Well, you're doing it. Why don't you ask yourself?" He asks, and I look out of the corner of my eye, seeing him standing next to me.

"I've only been working at SNL for about three months. I haven't been doing this long, you have, that's why I asked you." I don't look at him, I just pull my coat closer to me.