Page 55 of The Interview
It’s not always like this. We argue and bicker like any other couple. He complains about the mess I leave in the bathroom and wardrobe while he leaves a mess in every other part of the house. He’ll walk past the dishwasher to leave a mug in the sink, that’s if they make it that far. Usually, I’ll find a collection of plates, cups, and glasses next to wherever he’s been sitting, toast crumbs in the butter and over the worktop, maybe an empty milk carton left in the fridge. He leaves whiskers everywhere when he shaves, too. There’s a long list of his wrongdoings, but I mostly bite my tongue because he’s here. I’ve lost one husband and deeply regret the words I wasted complaining about trivial things and the times we spent apart, so mostly keep my mouth shut when Cam’s just doing what most blokes do. Instead, I appreciate the fact that he’s here to make a mess, and that we have what we have between us.
The gate alarm sounds.
“Circus has arrived,” Cam says with his mouth pressed against my ear.
“Yay,” I reply sarcastically. “Can’t wait for today’s emotional damage.”
He shifts me so we’re eye to eye.
“Want me to tell them to fuck off?”
“Nah. Like Ash said, it’s going to make great viewing, because for some reason, human beings love to be emotionally damaged and destroyed, whether it be by a TV show, a film, a song, or a book. I don’t know if it’s because we need the perspective and need to know there are people out there worse off than us, or if it’s about the hope, the recovery. Witnessing the way people overcome, survive, and hopefully get their happily ever after.”
“Did you get yours?” he asks as his eyes roam my face.
“This house, our home, is packed to the rafters with my happily ever after. There’s so much of it, it’s bursting at theseams. So much that I think everyone who walks through our front door feels it too.”
Cam smiles, and it’s soft and gentle, lazy almost. I wrap my arms around his neck, bury my face in his chest, and breathe him in.
“Did you get yours?” I eventually ask him.
“Holding the instigator of mine in my arms right now,” he says as he kisses the top of my head.
A car door slams.
“I gotta go,” I tell him.
“I know. Go be fabulous. I’ll see you a bit later.”
I kiss his cheek, then head through the house to the studio.
Today, I, once again, use the hair and makeup artists from Dan’s team to get me ready to face the camera. I put the Joe Jackson tee back on after my second shower and paired it with leggings and my UGGs but have pulled an oversized cardi on over the top because I’m feeling cold… or possibly a little hungover after the amount of alcohol that was consumed throughout the day and last night.
This morning, I’m sticking to water. At least until the conversation gets to a point where I think a glass of something sparkling might help.
The studio is quiet compared to yesterday. I’m not sure whose playlist is hooked up to the speakers, but the Style Council are playing. Weller’s distinctive voice singing “You’re The Best Thing” causes a little lurch of my stomach when I remember the first time I heard it and how I instantly thought of Sean. How I later learned it was one of his all-time favourites, and how many times he sang it to me.
I sip my water, reminding myself I don’t need the emotional crutch of alcohol. Not till after lunch, at least.
“Goooooood morning. How are we?” Makenzie’s voice sings out, and I open my eyes to see her already snapping photos. “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t help but capture the moment. Yesterday’s shots are amazing. I honestly don’t know how we’re going to be able to pick which ones to use. There are a few I captured that I think you’ll love for the family album, not for public consumption, but that’s your call, as are all the others.”
My brain struggles to keep up with the speed at which she’s talking and to process all of what it means.
“Once all of this is wrapped up, we’ll set aside a couple of days to go through what I’ve got, but I just wanted to share this with you because I think you’ll love it.”
Chastity, the girl doing my makeup, shoots Makenzie a look as she attempts to put the camera in front of me to view the screen.
“She’s mine for two more minutes, Kenz, then you can have her.”
“Sorry, Chas.” Kenzie steps back. “It’s quiet here. Where is everyone today?”
Her question reminds me of her extreme interest in Marley yesterday.
“Probably sleeping off their hangovers. They all stayed for dinner last night, and we had a few drinks,” I explain, my eyes closed while Chastity applies setting spray to my face.
“You’re done,” she declares as she whips away the paper cover she’d tucked into the neck of my T-shirt.
“Oh, great tee. “Is She Really Going Out With Him” is one of my dad’s favourite songs,” Kenzie tells me.
