Page 11 of The Ending is the Best Part
‘Eat,’ he says gruffly.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.I start to absolutely devour everything on the table, having mislaid my ladylike manners somewhere around three hours ago.I start with the kimchijeon and make my way round the table inhaling everything in sight: tteokbokki, bibimbap, fried chicken, the whole lot.Xander juggles a plate between his hands like a ball and then holds it steady, starting to load it up generously with his own portion.We eat in silence, both of us wolfing down the mouthwatering sweet-salty-sour combination of the dishes.I slow down only once I start to feel full, and I become aware of my surroundings again.For a moment, I forgot that I wasn’t alone.I purse my lips in embarrassment.I look at Xander, expecting him to be in a fit of laughter at my full Neanderthal hunter-gatherer transformation in the face of a spot of hunger and a plethora of Korean food.But instead he’s looking at me with something like contentedness.I assess myself and realise I feel it too.It must be all the delicious food – for both of us.Any tension from earlier has now left his body, and he appears to be relaxed.
‘So, you said that youneed this, the finale,’ I say, thinking about our conversation earlier.‘Why’s that?’
Xander shrugs, and suddenly looks embarrassed about the remembered comment.‘I’ve been doing this on my own for a long time.Writing is kind of lonely and you spend a lot of the time wondering if you’re actually any good at it.’ He looks up and I nod my head encouragingly in agreement.I know the feeling.‘If I write an amazing series finale—’
‘Ifwewrite an amazing series finale,’ I correct.
‘IfIwrite an amazing series finaleandget top credit, then I suppose I’ll finally know for sure that I’m good enough.’ He stares ahead.I can see he’s retreated into himself.There’s something a little desperate about how he says it.There’s a lack, a need in him that he feels like he has to fill.His head jerks up and he looks alarmed that I’m still here, listening to him.His cheeks have pinkened, like he’s ashamed of having revealed too much.
‘Plus,’ he continues, his tone harsher and more guarded now, ‘if I get this, I’ll be able to write whatever I want next.’
‘Exactly!’ I say, excited that we share the same thought process.‘And what will that be for you?’
‘I dunno.’ He shrugs.
‘Some auteur cinema with lots of moody shots that’s about man’s search for meaning?’
He smirks.‘Am I really that obvious?’
‘Maybe.’
‘And what about you?Is it going to be a sugary-sweet rom-com where they hate each other at the start, but eventually fall in love and everything is flowers and rainbows and starlight at the end?’
‘You can’t have rainbows and starlight in the same scene.Just imagine the viewer complaints, c’mon?’ I say.But he’s right.I have always dreamed of writing my own rom-com.‘Well, so what if that was what I had in mind?’
‘Knew it,’ he says.
‘And what would be wrong with writing a rom-com?’
‘Nothing,’ he says.‘Just dousing the movie-watching public with yet more unrealistic expectations about romance.Because in all these movies, we never show the audience what happens after the credits roll.Because these things, love stories, they always,alwaysend.’
‘You can say I’m an optimist and naive and whatever else,’ I say, ‘but I just don’t think that’s true.’
‘We can agree to disagree.’
For once, we have a truce.I look over at him sadly, wondering what led him to this place where he’s given up on the possibility of closeness and lasting love.He sounds socertainthat everything good must end.He presses his lips together and glances over at me.It’s like he’s looking for my approval.The atmosphere is charged, humming with something faint but undeniable.
‘Well, that was amazing, thank you,’ I murmur and lower my gaze, surveying what little is left of the meal.Korean food is one of my all-time favourites.How did he know about that?And now that I look at the plastic trays on the table, I realise they’re all my favourite dishes too.Probably a lucky guess…
‘Don’t thank me for doing what anyone else would’ve done,’ he quietly responds.There’s a lot of people who wouldn’t, but I don’t mention it, seeing as we seem to have reached some sort of peace.For once, I don’t want to bicker with him.
‘Right.’ I clear my throat and start to tidy the mess, largely caused by me.Until his large hands land on my arms, stopping any movement.
In a flash, he removes his hands as if the touch electrocuted him.‘Don’t.I’ll do it.’ He empties the table in no time.He’s almost frantic, not quite looking at me.There’s an uncertain energy between us.I feel aware of how small the meeting room is.His body moving around mine.He did a kind thing and the goodness of it emanates throughout the room.Or maybe it’s just the left-over hot food.I stand there in a daze, partly because I ate too much and am now entering the food coma stage.And partly because I’m unsure how to deal with this new, unfamiliar ground we’re on.
‘Maybe we should call it a night,’ he says once he’s finished clearing everything up and the room has returned to the way it was before.
‘Yeah…’ I say.‘Thank you for dinner.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ His lips tease a smile.We awkwardly stand there for a few moments, neither of us sure what to say to each other.It’s kind of ironic, two screenwriters who can’t think of a single line of dialogue.I move away and exit the meeting room, his footsteps following mine.I gather my things and throw them in my bag.
‘Yara,’ Xander’s voice calls out behind me as I’m heading towards the door.I turn round and I see him waving a phone.My phone, to be precise.
‘You forgot this.’ He runs up towards where I’m standing.
‘Right, thanks, I wouldn’t want to be caught rummaging around your drawer again for it,’ I joke.
