Heartbroken after a long-overdue breakup, crushed by a stagnant entertainment industry, and depressed by my temporary job at a dementia center, I clung to any semblance of stability. Desperation led me to apply for an office job at a law firm in Westwood despite having no legal experience and a unique disdain for cubicles and fluorescent lighting.
Months of hopeful waiting ended with an abrupt dismissal: “We have decided to move forward with another candidate.”
I was bitter and my mind was overflowing with imagined flaws directed at the other candidate. The guy they chose was probably fluent in legal jargon and very worldly. He probably wrote the laugh out of him. It was probably horrible, I thought.
Two months later, I received a phone call. The company was expanding and wanted to hire me. I knew I would have to work with whoever got the job I had applied for, but I needed the income, so I dusted off my loafers and put my ego aside.
I decided I wasn't going to be there for long and I certainly wasn't going to make friends. Naturally the universe had other plans for my time in the office. My aloof facade crumbled upon meeting Chris.
When we were introduced, I politely asked him how he was and he proudly shouted, “LIVIN!”
It was obvious why Chris was selected for the job I wanted. He didn't know about statutes or precedents. He was neither stuffy nor boring, and his laughter was far from regulated. Everyone loved him. And why wouldn't they? I had never met anyone like him.
His smile was like a searchlight. She repelled negative energy and feared anxiety. In an office that made the DMV look like Disneyland, he was everything.
Chris was training me and we were the only people in our department. I started wearing mascara, taking off my headphones, and asking Chris questions I already knew the answers to. He left notes in my car. We'd trade scripts and he'd text me after work, referencing inside jokes that we'd pretend were funnier than they were.
But I admit I was stubborn. I couldn't allow myself to enjoy anything about this job or this stage of my life. I needed to focus on my writing. The strike would end, the clouds would dissipate and this delay in time would be forgotten. She couldn't admit that she was in love with Chris. She wasn't part of my plan.
We would go to Barney's Beanery together during lunchtime, but we would pretend like we didn't have dates. We took 15 minute breaks together to “get fresh air.” We made a Spotify Blend playlist, revealing our mutual love for Green Day and Smashing Pumpkins. Sometimes I even forgot how much I hated going to the office.
Chris had an AMC Movie Pass and I was a good liar. He watched movies after work to avoid traffic, so I bought the pass and acted like he always had it.
The day we were planning to watch a movie after work, Chris received the terrible news of a death in the family. I offered my condolences at the office. I wanted to hug him but I didn't know if I could even pat his arm. I asked him if he would still like to watch the movie and he insisted that he needed the distraction.
It was Christmas all December in Century City. As we drank three limoncellos each, Chris told me stories about his uncle who made Southern California feel like home, and we shared our first hug. He smelled like clean clothes and I was drunk enough to tell him.
We snuck more drinks to the movies and saw Paul Giamatti in “The Holdovers,” which made me cry. Chris took my hand. We stumbled upon another movie: a private screening of a live production of “Titanic the Musical.” We didn't want our night to end, so we went to Barney's for a drink. Standing outside our favorite bar, we shared our first kiss. He felt behind.
Since then, we've met our families and friends, taken road trips together, and seen many more movies. (For me, the AMC Pass was a great investment.)
We also finished all of our work assignments at the law firm. Three weeks ago, the company fired Chris. He was asking me if he should leave him. He wanted. Chris was the best thing in that office and I couldn't stand the thought of being there without him. Thirty minutes after Chris was fired, they let me go. We were so happy to be free. The next day we went to Universal Studios to celebrate.
The maze of dead-end interviews, the monotony of temp jobs, and the tumultuous nature of making a living as a writer don't seem so bad to me anymore. We have new day jobs but we still go to Barney's Beanery. We also worked on our scripts and wrote bad jokes.
From time to time I make arbitrary plans and ridiculous statements about how things should turn out. And I find myself laughing. It's not a laugh written in pencil. Unbridled laughter. A free laugh inspired by Chris. I don't know what the future holds, but for now, Chris and I are falling more and more in love and “LIVIN.”
The author is a screenwriter living in West Hollywood. She is on Instagram: @mlindz
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