Strictly Behind the Scenes

“What is this?” The words cut through the chaotic hum of the set. His voice followed by silence. Elle could feel the eyes taking quick glances at her, none lingering long enough to be noticed. “It's y..your…” “This must be a joke. Yes. Because that's the only reason you would have the guts to bring this to me.” The plastic salad container came flying at her. In a flash she pushed herself backwards. Her eyes traced down the dressing splatter forming a pattern, from her shirt to her pants down to her flats. With trembling hands, she wiped off the droplets that had made their way to her cheeks. Her eyes glossed over as faint murmurs filled the air. Hot tears sat on the rim of her eyelids, threatening to spill at any moment. “I.. I'm sorry,” The words, though a whisper, felt heavy as they escaped her lips. With her nails, she began picking on the three-week-old scab on her wrist as a distraction. “It's always apologies with you, Elle, is it really that hard not to be a screw-up?” Her lips moved, but the words were stuck in her throat. She wanted to speak up, to object, to explain that the fault is from the caterer who drenched the salad bowl with dressing despite her protests. "I asked for a little dressing on the side, a simple request even a 2-year-old would understand," Michael’s deep voice echoed through the building, calm and calculated. “But no. You decided to prove once again why hiring you was a mistake.” Elle swallowed hard, harshly scrubbing the tears off her cheeks. Her head hung low as she felt cold air wash over her. The scab was now scratched off and replaced with a red liquid slowly seeping through her skin. “Hey,” he commanded, “Look at me when I am talking to you.” Elle stayed still. She didn't want to look at him, she knew what would happen if she did. “I said, look at me!” Her heart jumped out of her chest as she whipped her head up. Immediately she met his cold gaze, it happened, a single tear rolled down her cheek, then another, then another. Her face remained flat, no sobs, no wails, just a broken stare with a continuous flow of tears. She promised herself this wouldn't happen, that she wouldn't let his words affect her, but here she was, tabling her pain for the spectators on set to see. “Pathetic,” he swerved to face the vanity behind him, “Get out.” With one swift motion, she swiped up the empty container, spinning on her heels as she sped out of sight. Her knees trembled as she walked, the whispers flying around made her head spin. Out the corner of her tear-glazed eyes she sees Charlie's hair stylist offer him an apple. He receives it with a light tug of lips and a warm nod. She tear her eyes away, the realization that the aggression was specially reserved for her made a knot in her stomach. The sun's rays stung every inch of her body. It reflected on her as she made her way to the camper van on the other side of the field. Balls of sweat gradually soaked her baby blue shirt, they flowed down to the band of her tailored trousers. But she felt oddly numb, the ache in her heart causing her more pain than the burn she felt on her now beet red skin. Pushing the door of the trailer open, she felt her tense body relax as the air conditioning caressed her scorched skin. Usually she’d have paused to put away the laundry that was littered around, but she made a beeline for the bathroom, pulled out a large amount of toilet paper and began brushing off the dressing that had now caked on her clothes. With a scrunched brow and tear-streaked face, she concentrated on getting every blob out. She didn't have a change of clothes because she had never needed one, at least until now. “You can ditch that shirt babe, I have a spare you can borrow.” She paused her movement, looking through the door of the bathroom, she saw her boyfriend, propped up against the wall of the trailer, flashing his pearly whites at her. Tearing her eyes off him, she continued scrubbing, “Like this isn't your fault,” she muttered to herself, but he heard. They were literally in a small box, of course, he heard. “Come on, you don't have to be like that,” he wobbled behind her, his dopey smile still intact as he stared at her through the mirror with a sparkle in his eyes. She released a soft breath. “Soiling my clothes, saying those hurtful words, did you really have to?” Gently placing his hands on her shoulder, he spun her in place, his warm gaze meeting her tired ones. “Darling, this isn't easy for me either. It hurts that this is our reality, but we don't have a choice.” “I know but i…” “Hey, hey,” his hand slid under her chin, angling her face upward to lock eyes with him. “You know I didn't mean any of that, right? It's just an act.” Elle's eyes rolled away from his gaze, locked on a golden pendant swinging on his neck. “I know, bu.. but sometimes it feels too real, like I truly disgust you or…” “No, I refuse to let you finish that sentence,” he took a step back, staring at Elle like she had accused him of taking a life. “I won't stand here and listen to you say that to me. This affects me too, I… I hate doing this.” “I understand, I just..” she weakly reached for his hands, as she felt the argument slowly tiring her out. He sharply jerks his arm away, his chest rising and falling rapidly as heavy puffs of air escape his parted lips. “It doesn't seem like you do, Elle, you think I am a monster, like I want this.” “Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't bring it up anymore, i just.. I'm sorry,” her voice cracked with each apology, hands clamped together in a plea while his anger hung in the air as he didn't even glance at her direction. This was the only way to pacify her seething boyfriend. She couldn't help but beat herself up in her head for bringing up the one topic he is most sensitive to. Three firm knocks on the trailer door pierced through the heavy silence. “Hey Mike, come on out, we are on in ten minutes.” He finally turns his attention to Elle, “We’ll talk about this later,” he turns away, hands on his hip and marches to the entrance, pulling the door open. “Let me grab my jacket,” Micheal turned around. Walking to the back, he picked up the piece of clothing hung on the handle of the bathroom. “Oh hello. Hope your boss is not giving you much trouble?” He had stretched his head, peeking into the truck. Elle's body jerked at the new deep voice vibrating through the aluminium box. “Oh, erm yes, yes, no trouble.” “Alright, I like your shirt, the color looks lovely on you.” With her palm, she shields the lower part of her face. A soft pink dusts her cheeks and her lips tipped upward, for the first time that day. “Thank you, I wanted something comfortable for the day.” “Well that's really smart, the set can easily…” “Let's go.” Micheal cuts him off, his calloused palm wrapped around Elle's forearm, pulling her to the exit with him. Elle’s mind, still jumbled up from the earlier outburst, lets herself be ragdolled through the trailer. As they step out, Micheal releases her hand. Elle doesn't notice on time and still thinking she is secured in her boyfriend's grip waddles down the three-step staircase leading out the trailer. She forgets it's a three step and goes for the fourth. Her foot misses a step, she flails her arm around, trying to regain her balance but ultimately fails and begins to fall, eyes screwed shut ready for the impact.