“Let me know when this is over.” With the way he holds the pillow in front of his face, I can’t see the pure horror encompassing it, as it’s mere inches away from prohibiting his access to air. He peers over the pillow once or twice before quickly ducking behind it again.
This reminds me of when I showed Vinny this movie for the first time last year, and it has me laughing all over again. “Will do,” I snicker.
As we continue to watch the movie, my eyes bounce from Crew to the screen. Yes, I love this movie, but I’ve seen it multiple times—it’s better to watch how someone else would react to it.
But I can’t get what his mother said out of my head. Not just what she muttered in the restrooms, but what she yelled at Crew that night. I know I shouldn’t have listened to their conversation, but as soon as she mentioned the loud-mouthed, obnoxious girl, I cut my losses and tried my best to tune them out.
Which was pretty difficult, because Crew’s mother was pretty damn loud.
My eyes linger on Crew for a little longer as he hides behind the pillow. No wonder he doesn’t want to talk about it or bring anything related to his past up. He’s probably still affected by it.
I can’t begin to imagine what he’s gone through, and I’m very much a visual person.
As the credits appear on the screen, he places the pillow on his lap and closes his eyes, probably thankful that the movie is over. He deeply inhales before releasing a breath of relief.
“You good there, Movie Star?” I tease.
He nods. “Thank fuck that movie’s over.” When he opens his eyes, he finds me watching him. “Areyouokay?”
“Yep,” I tell him, popping thep. “I’m just wondering.”
“About…”
“About the dinner.” It’s only been a few weeks since we ran into Crew’s mother at the diner, and I can’t help but wonder how Crew must have felt about seeing her again for the first time in a while. “Seeing your mom again. How she called me—”
“Nope,” Crew interrupts. “She doesn’t matter. Whatever she said about you, it’s bullshit.”
A small smile finds its way to my face. “Thanks, but I wanted to ask about you.”
Once those words leave my mouth, I begin to second-guess whether or not I should ask about Crew’s history with the film industry.
But I’ve already made it this far, and I don’t think I can go back.
“Why doyouhate it so much?”
Crew
See, this is not what I had in mind for spending a day with Carly after my shift. I thought that it would just be a normal hangout—watching a good movie and talking through it.
Honestly, I should have noticed the signs when said movie wasAlien: Romulus. Carly just pushes the boundaries of just about anything.
“Crew, is it that bad?”
Yes, it was.
“Being in the industry isn’t all glitz and glamour,” I remind her.
She shrugs. “So? I’m not signing up for the money. Film was my safety net when things were hard for me.”
I frown, unable to imagine how life could have been hard for Carly. She seems to go through it all with a smile and without a care.
“I don’t talk about it much,” she explains. “But my brain is a jumbled-up piece of mush, and it’s hard for me to feel calm and relaxed. We learned that putting me in front of a movie is the only time I can focus on something.”
“A jumbled-up piece of mush?” I repeat.
She nods. “It’s my ADHD—Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. It’s more than just having trouble focusing. My brain is processing multiple things at once, and it easily overwhelms me.”
I didn’t know this about her. My knowledge about stuff like that isn’t vast, so I can’t make claims, such as how it explains somuch about her, or other shit. But, in a way, it kind of does. She needs to be in a quiet setting to focus, like that time she took me to the beach when I almost had that panic attack.
