66 Lost in Translation

Author's Note: Every single chapter title alludes to a movie or a television series that I have watched and enjoyed immensely, and would whole-heartedly recommend to you all.

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25th January 1998 (Sunday)

Charlize Theron (POV)

"I'm just gonna lay it out there. This is why I don't think we should be together." He starts, his face eerily blank, and devoid of any emotion.

"And I've thought about it a lot, and this is what's gonna happen. I'm going to keep pursuing what I am pursuing. Because I'm doing that, it's gonna take up my time. I am not going to be able to spend time with you." He lays it out casually, in a matter of fact manner. 

His eyes are blank, not a hint of pain, not a smidgen of sincerity just… nothing. He smirks lightly for a fraction of a second, as if mocking her for falling for it.

"Even when I do, I'll be thinking about 'filming'." His voice becomes distorted towards the end. "About 'movies', my 'scripts'. Because of that, you will start to resent me. You're going to tell me to ease up on the 'filming', spend more time with you. I am not going to be able to do that." He drones on, his tone increasingly distorting in a 'random' manner, as his face begins to switch up little by little.

"I'm going to start resenting you for even asking me to stop. We're going to hate each other. It's going to be ugly." He pauses for a moment, his eyes gazing deep into mine and yet, unlike every other time, my heart doesn't quicken. Rather I freeze up, feeling a sense of dread permeate my body and mind.

"And so for those reasons… I'd rather just, you know, break it off clean." He stops, waiting for me to respond, but I don't. I freeze up in shock, and so he awkwardly continues. "Because I want to be great."

The final line echoes… again and again and again, right before-

I wake up with a start, panting heavily, miniature beads of sweat forming on my brow as I sigh deeply.

Goddamn it.

That same dream… again. 

The breakup scene from Whiplash except this time, it's not 'Andrew'. 

Key words, interchanged to match the context, and Ricky appearing as he is, without a shred of makeup, his mannerisms, a mismatched amalgamation of his own, and Andrew's. 

"Dear? What's wrong?" 

The duvet shifts, as Ricky in his half-naked glory, sits up by my side, a worried look on his face.

Oh… now he cares.

"Nothing." I reply.

A second of silence ensues, before he speaks up again, "You can tell me you know? If something's bothering you, you don't need to keep it to yourself- you can just-" 

"Nothing! It's nothing okay?! Nothing's bothering me just- go back to sleep." I shut down his attempts to get me to open up, not wanting to open Pandora's box right now. 

Not tonight. The first night in over a week that we're spending together. 

The last 3 months have been… hectic to say the least. For me certainly, but especially for Ricky. With the release of 'Whiplash', he managed to do exactly what he had set out to do this year.

'Shake up Hollywood'... His exact words the next morning after winning big in Venice. 

As for me? After my supporting role, the trajectory of my career became attached to the fate of Ricky's 3rd movie, which in turn had its success be dependent on Ricky himself largely.

So in a roundabout way, my fate in Hollywood was determined, the second Ricky blew up. The Golden Globe noms were just the precursor to what was about to happen really.

His sophomore outing generated $312 million at the box office, and garnered nominations for BAFTAs, the guild awards, Satellite Awards, Critic's Choice and was even named one of the top 10 movies of the year by AFI. 

And then 'Catch' released soon after to further acclaim and attention, not only catapulting him to the spotlight once more, but even serving as a commercial break for me, considering the rather lucrative offers my agent received on my behalf soon after. 

That included modeling gigs across the nation, sometimes even all the way over to the East Coast, offers to star in commercials, and for some reason… endorsement offers from skincare products. 

Apparently, my skin just 'shines brightly beyond compare!', as the casting director put it. 

I'm not unaware of my beauty, it's been pointed out to me enough to grow secure in the fact that I'm gorgeous. 

Nevertheless, I gobbled up most of the offers to generate higher income, and managed to earn a hefty sum of over $200k in a little over a month… astronomical when compared to my net worth previously.

And so I immediately rented out a nice furnished apartment not far from the motel I lived in before, and went on all kinds of shopping sprees at first, before investing a sum of it at the behest of Ricky, 'for my future' as he said back then.

Anyways, all of these are factors that contributed to me and Ricky spending less and less time together, far too busy with our respective professions to be whimsical about our time anymore.

And whenever I had a few hours to spare, our schedule never seemed to match up, as something or the other came up for him. Just 3 weeks ago when we were resting in bed together, after a rather… passionate exchange, he got a call from his assistant… at 11 in the night and the next thing I knew, he had to run. 

11 in the night, and he had to run to his office, because he got a call from his assistant… Daisy… the fairly tall, athletic blonde, with not a freckle on her face… her stupid, stupid, pretty face. 

Just imagining Ricky… 'My' Ricky running to the office that late to meet her of all people… A time well after working hours, when most of his employees would have retreated back to their homes after a tiresome day of working… The very thought sent me into a white hot rage shortly after he left.

And then the nightmares started.

That scene from 'Whiplash' visiting me frequently in my dreams, sometimes as it was, sometimes an exaggerated caricature of it, and sometimes a lucid mix of the two.

Ricky… Poly… My dear workaholic boyfriend, too absorbed in his work to leave aside time for… 'us'. And the very thought of me holding him back from his precious work… What if Ricky wrote 'Whiplash' that way, because that's how it would feel to him? Would he start resenting me for it? For wishing more from him? Is his dedication slowly turning into an obsession? 

" -rry, Sherry hey," 2 fingers snapped loudly, inches away from my eyes, knocking me out of my haze, "Charlize… What's the matter? Is it me? Did I do something-"

"No!" I snap back at him, already feeling guilty for doing so, but too far into it to just stop, "You did nothing Ricky! Nothing. That's… You just- drop it okay-"

"Nope." He succinctly replied without missing a beat, as I stared back at him in poorly disguised shock. 

The nerve of him, just outright refusing me like that-

"What do you mean no? Seriously, what the fuck do you mean by-"

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"What do you mean No? Seriously what the fuck do you mean by-" She started, getting more and more riled up. I could see the subtle signs, she was definitely going to lay into me if I did nothing.

And so I shut her up the only way I knew how.

"Mfgh!" Her words muffled as I pressed our lips together.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. 

And so I continued my ministrations for a few seconds, and she reciprocated, not with enthusiasm, but resignation.

At least she finally calmed down enough for a talk.

We pull away together, but continue pressing our heads against each other as I whisper lightly, "Tell me when you're ready my sherry. There's no pressure just- know that whatever it is, you don't have to face it alone. You can share… We've been together for close to half a year now… I think a little transparency can go a long way here. It's up to you in the end. When you're ready, just call and I will be there… like I am right now." I finish muttering, meeting her hazel green eyes filled with turmoil.

A few seconds later, we pulled back from our embrace as she exhaled… before holding my hand and finally speaking… her lips moving in a tantalizing manner.

"I-It's nothing I can't deal with by myself." She began as I shot her a skeptical look which made her wide-eyed, "I swear! I just- need a little more time, okay? I'm sorry for snapping at you like that, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"I'm not hurt my dear, why would you- what gave you that impression?"

"Nothing! It's- I assumed you might have not taken it well. It's our first night together in over a week and now I ruined it-"

I clasp her dainty little hand a little more firmly before cutting in, "You didn't! Bloody hell you- you did not ruin anything! You hear me?! So don't tell yourself that, and don't feel sorry for anything, please. Come on, get up-"

"What? What do you-" She said, baffled at my words, as she observed me dressing up again and moving around the bed, "Ricky what're you doing- AH!"

Her sudden shriek might have resulted from me picking her up in a princess carry before spinning around the room and arriving at a chair upon which lay her strewn clothes.

I let her down before continuing, "Get dressed dear, we're going out. I can't possibly have you thinking that you somehow 'ruined' the night, and so… there's an exclusive nightclub 2 blocks from here, you need a secret code and everything to enter. Get ready fast, we reach there by 11, and we might just get to meet Ryan Prescott, who I know for a fact is partying there as we speak." 

She stared at me with naked shock visible on her gorgeous face, not moving an inch and so I did what I do best.

I clapped… Hard… With a Bang.

"Come on love, we haven't got all night! We're meeting after a week, and we'll celebrate the occasion damnit! An 8 course meal followed by mind blowing sex is clearly not enough! So we are going to get piss drunk, dance away our troubles, and party like there's no tomorrow!" I announce excitedly as she finally gets the memo. She picks up her clothes and runs to the bathroom to get ready meanwhile I walk over to a mirror, and start straightening out the creases on my obsidian black shirt.

… She's definitely going through something. I might not have been directly responsible for it, but it's definitely 'cause of me. And I can't coax her to talk it out, means it's something terribly serious. The fact that I of all people… with my CHA, WIS, and conversational skills can't get her to open up… She really does not want me to find out… for now.

But just 'cause I can't help solve it, doesn't mean I can't be a good boyfriend and ease her guilt. She might not have ruined the night, but she definitely killed the mood, and I think she realizes it. And thus the existence of our spontaneous plans.

I'm meeting my girlfriend after a week, and I'm not going back to sleep after everything that happened! Nope, we're going out today, and we're having fun the way I used to, right after I turned 18.

It was a simpler time back then. I was just a regular college student… okay fine, I was not regular by any means, but still. My responsibilities as a humble novelist were far less than that of a President of a Production Studio, and the star of 3 feature films released in a single year… Well, almost. A pity 'Whiplash' premiered in Sundance, a festival that went on from 2nd to 4th January.

I missed the deadline by days… I won't miss it again. 

Just then she exits the bathroom, looking stunning in nearly every aspect.

She smirked playfully, her smile a tad forceful, but at least she had eased up enough to play along. She twirled around, "How do I look?" She asked over her shoulder, the nape of her neck exposed as she had done up her hair in a fashionable bun. 

I didn't reply. I couldn't. An accomplished writer and yet… I could find no words off the top of my head to encompass how… exquisite she appeared to be.

I might be biased… but who cares? I definitely don't.

And so without uttering a word, I strode forward towards her, and kissed her for all that she's worth. Her hands found their way around my neck and the back of my head as she leaned in, pressing up against me.

I cherished every second of it, before finally parting, "You messed up my hair." I whispered, as she tousled up my delicate curls.

"I like it better when it's a little… messy." She grinned, before moving towards the door. "Now, your car or mine?"

I smiled.

Author's Note: This chapter's not as plot focused as you can tell. A little slice of life romance, as realistic as I can imagine it. The growing chasm between them, but their earnest efforts to to try to overcome it... I hope I did a good job here.

Do comment on how you found it. Romance is the one area of writing in which I doubt myself near constantly. So your valuable opinions, and helpful critique will go a long way in helping me shore up my skills.