“The Interview” — A Short Story
by Tom Farr
For Made Up Words
Jack Singleton, the most enigmatic writer/director in Hollywood, sat on a couch in a white waiting room with a small television staring back at him. He watched Rebecca Harmon, host of America’s top entertainment show, do her opening monologue and finally gained control over his shaking hands. The thought made him laugh. No one would expect the man who’d spent the last five years building a horror movie empire to be petrified of doing a television interview.
Maybe because it was his first interview ever. Rebecca Harmon began her career as a hard-hitting reporter before turning her eyes to interviewing Hollywood’s elite. Jack would never forget the time she brought a young actress, fresh off her first film, to tears.
Harmon cared about more than the films; she wanted to know what drives artists to make the decisions they do. And that’s why he chose her. Because it was finally time for the truth to come out.
A knock on the door startled him.
“You’re on in five,” the young man who popped his head in said.
“Thank you.”
Jack was plagued by the thought that he should just leave. He’d done it before when he’d reluctantly agreed to appear on the Rob Mellich Show after his third film, Three Nights to Ecstasy, released. The film was about a married couple who discovered a mysterious ritual to save their crumbling marriage, only to find out that they were playing with something dangerous.
Jack was as surprised as anyone when the film received an Oscar nomination that year. Mellich managed to talk Jack into appearing on his show, but five minutes before he was to go on, Jack disappeared.
Walking out only served to solidify the mystery surrounding him and Jack was fine with that.
The young man popped his head back in. He smiled, a look of surprise on his face. “Just making sure you’re still here.”
Jack laughed. “Still here.”
“I’m a big fan of your work, by the way,” the young man said. “Even this latest one.”
The young man gave a final awkward smile and left.
Even this latest one. Jack wondered if he should take that as a compliment.
Jack kept his eyes on Rebecca Harmon as he walked onto the brightly lit stage, the sound of applause ringing in his ears. He avoided looking at the live audience. Rebecca was beautiful with a bright smile, which Jack knew masked a fierce determination to expose his darkest secrets.
They met at the center of the stage, shook hands, and sat down in chairs opposite each other.
“I’m so glad to have you on the show, Jack,” Rebecca said. “What made you decide to finally come out of your cave?”
Jack swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to ignore the heat radiating from the lights above him. “Well, Rebecca, I… uh… just felt like it was time. And who better to speak to than Rebecca Harmon, right?”
The crowd erupted in applause.
Rebecca smiled, clearly flattered. “You’re one of the most mysterious filmmakers in Hollywood,” she said. “What sparks the level of secrecy that goes into the production of your films?”
“I think mystery goes a long way in capturing people’s interest,” Jack said.
“I’m sure.” Rebecca leaned back.
Jack knew the gloves would soon come off.
“I can’t help but think there’s more to it though.” She smiled before continuing. “Your first three films were horror stories. Critics have called them extremely violent yet thought-provoking. They’re not the hack and slash, girls running around naked movies that horror fans are accustomed to. Why do you think your films have had such an impact in a genre that’s rarely taken seriously?”
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I try to tell stories that explore the human condition, how people actually feel. I want people to think this could actually happen to them and consider what they’d do if it did.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. He’d seen her do it a million times. His answer, no matter how true, wasn’t good enough. And so the questions came. Questions about his upbringing, his parents, his dating life — a topic talked about often in the early days because of how often he changed girlfriends. The questions were a welcome delay to the inevitable.
After a commercial break, Rebecca shifted to the subject that had brought him here. “Your latest film is No Redemption. It’s doing quite well at the box office. But this isn’t another horror film. Some are even calling it religious, though it did receive an R rating. Why the different approach?”
Jack hesitated. He wasn’t ready yet. “I just wanted to try something different.”
She gave him a look that told him his answer would suffice for now, but he knew his moment was coming.
Rebecca turned her gaze to the audience. “We have a clip of No Redemption.” She turned back to him. “Would you care to introduce it?”
He cleared his throat. “This is when the protagonist’s wife discovers him cheating on her.”
The clip was raw and filled with tension. Jack watched the screen behind them. A woman with a look of shock on her face stood in a doorway. The audience saw Jane Goodway, the actress playing the wife in the movie, but all Jack could see was the face of his wife, Megan, and the look of heartbreak in her eyes. He’d seen it each time before, but something was different this time. Something more final.
“You said it was over,” Megan said with a quiet voice.
Alicia, Jack’s latest mistress, scrambled for her clothes and rushed past Megan out of the room.
Jack got up and threw on a robe. “I can’t do this anymore, Megan.”
“You promised me you would stop,” she said, her voice shaky. “You said I was enough.”
Jack sighed. “I guess I was wrong.”
Megan’s lip quivered. “I’m not enough?”
He looked at her. She looked pathetic leaning up against the wall. “I want a divorce,” he said.
Her eyes, red and puffy, stared into his. “Do you care how much you destroyed me?”
He rushed at her and pinned her against the wall by the throat. “You’re not blaming me for this. You stayed with me. You knew who I was.”
She didn’t fight, and for a moment, he was sure he’d kill her. He threw her onto the bed, and she rolled over onto her side.
“You said you loved me,” she said.
Jack walked out, slamming the door behind him.
“Pretty intense scene,” Rebecca said, breaking Jack out of his thoughts. “A man who pursues redemption after driving his wife to suicide. It’s been said that you’ve been giving a lot of money to charity in the last couple years. So is it true? Is the movie about you?”
He took in a deep breath and looked at the main camera. “I received a letter from my wife, Megan, in the mail a few weeks after she’d caught me for the last time. It was a suicide note. She made sure I’d receive it the same day she did it.” Tears filled his eyes. “She jumped from a cliff and died on the rocks below before being swept out to sea.”
The audience gasped.
Rebecca let the words hang in the air. She cleared her throat. “You drove the woman you claimed to love to kill herself?”
Jack nodded, ashamed.
“Did you think this movie would somehow pay for that?” she said with disgust. “All the good things you do are supposed to make up for being a monster?”
“I can’t take it back. I’m just tired of hiding the truth. Megan was an incredible woman who deserved better.”
Rebecca laughed. “Clearly.”
Jack knew the interview wouldn’t make him feel better. Like his movie’s protagonist, Jack would never find redemption for driving Megan to her death. Certainly not by confessing to the world what he’d done.
Jack walked up the steps to his large house and froze at the sight of the woman standing in the shadows of his porch.
“Megan?”
His wife, as beautiful as the day he’d met her, stepped toward him, very much alive.
“I don’t understand,” he gasped. “How?”
“It’s a long story,” she said. “I needed to get away, to know you couldn’t hurt me anymore.” She looked down. “And I guess a part of me needed to make you feel what you did to me.”
“I can’t believe it.” Jack pulled her into an embrace. “I’m so sorry. I’d do anything to take back what I did to you.”
“I know.” She pulled away and gazed into his eyes. “You’re not the man who did that to me anymore, are you?”
“I’m not.” Jack grasped for words, but they all seemed inadequate. “I’ve wished for this day for so long.”
She smiled. “So have I.”
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Tom Farr is a writer, teacher, and storyteller. He loves creating and spending time with his wife and three children. He blogs regularly about writing and storytelling at The Whisper Project. Check out his writing portfolio on Contently.
