Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Confessions of The Film Director Part 3


She is pissed about my earlier comment. I guess women don’t like it when you mention they had got uglier. When you mention the truth. She looks out the window and sighs. The rains hasn’t let up since the start of the journey.

We’re in the country now, I say. Look at the beautiful countryside. No response. She’s a city girl.

We pull into the drive way of the hotel. A nice country hotel with a lake and a fine restaurant all starred up in the Guardian.

The room is large and bright. An old hotel with modern décor. The room overlooks the lake and we have a little patio where we could sit out, drink tea and look at it. But it’s raining.

She is still moody. I push her onto the bed and kiss her. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear and tell her I love her. Coax out a little smile. She punches me and calls me an asshole. I rub her shoulders and kiss her again…..

What did you tell your wife? She asks.

I told her I was filming. What did you tell your husband?

I told him I was going away with you. Tom’s not the jealous type. We both laugh at Tom. Tom hadn’t been able to get it up after his stroke. Ha ha, poor old Tom.

The rain has let up and so we walk around the lake. I like it here. Calm and relaxing. She is holding my hand and I pull her into my body to keep her warm. We both point at the trees and the lake like we had never seen these things before.

She tells me about how her son has been arrested for rape. How her daughter has got pregnant again. I am not interested. How could I be? I put my arm around her waist, pull her close and kiss her and the rain starts again.

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