Love Is What You Make It

20. Time Flies Faster (And Yet Too Slow To Master)

           Jack still can't take time off, being that he's worked at the company less than a year, but Amanda's boss insists that she take the week off before Amanda can finish apologizing for being late the first morning.   Jack has to be content, the adult that he is, with spending every waking moment with them only during non-working hours.

          The week ends too soon, and he does skip work their last day in LA so he can see them off.  And so he and Amanda can spend the rest of the night lying around the apartment together, mourning the insurmountable size of the North American continent.  Jack, who's had more practice with soul mate separation, falls onto the kitchen floor as soon as they get home, like a sad lazy overheated slug, and Amanda stands over him for several minutes before stepping over his body and going about her business.

           An hour later she returns, and feeling worse and worse as the absence hits her, tentatively copies his stance.  She gives a sigh of relief as she presses her cheek against the linoleum.

          "Why does this help?" she asks, and Jack hums, patting the ground.

          "Sometimes you just need some good, cold floor.  Its curative powers are greatly appreciated, little known, and completely misunderstood, but as a doctor I must recommend a dose of one to five hours after every heartbreak."

         "You're a very smart man," she tells him, and moves a little closer to him.  He touches her leg with his foot and they enjoy their self-pity together.

***

         Jack works hard—so hard, in fact, that he doesn't realize he's miserable until Amanda tells him so.

          "What?" he turns, giving her his brightest smile.  "That's ridiculous!"  But she's prepared for this, and holds up a hand mirror, forcing him to look himself in the eye.

         He doesn't look happy—what he'd though his very brightest of smiles is actually rather dim, and he watches as his cheeks fall and his mouth curves down to match his tired eyes.  He touches his face and looks blankly up at Amanda, who moves around the couch to sit beside him, setting her hands on his arm.

          "You barely film anything anymore," she says, and he shrugs, somewhat guilty.   What she says is true, much as he wishes it weren't.  He keeps meaning to film, but after work....

         "I film plenty at work."

          "But it's stale work, and it's killing you.  You film scripted nonsense, no-meaning thirty second commercials with every trick of the camera already planned out.  Half the time you aren't even the one directing.  You need more freedom than that."

           Half incredulous he asks, "How did you get to know me so well?"   Amanda smiles.

          "I listen," she says, and kisses him affectionately, ruffling his hair.  "You should start looking for something better."

          "I don't want to throw this all away," he says nervously, playing with his collar.  She blows air through her nose.

          "The point of looking for another job is to improve yourself without burning bridges.  At least do your own work.  You love telling stories.  Maybe you should try telling your own."

          "I don't know.  I don't think I'm that creative."

          "You're more creative than you think," Amanda promises.  "You'll find something.   I'll help if I can."

          When he talks to Lacey and Thomas about it, they agree.

          Jack starts carrying his personal camera around everywhere again, and at night he goes for walks—sometimes with Amanda, sometimes alone—and plays with filters and angles and objective viewpoints.