The Higher We Soar

6. Delicate, artistic sensibilities

It had been two weeks since I visited our most prized intern. After dealing with his cold, he wandered around the studio for a few more days like a sleepy smiling zombie (a good title for a potential movie) with handkerchiefs sticking out of every pocket, before he bounced back properly. And then it started in earnest. Again. True to form, once he started talking, there was no stopping him.

Talking. During those two weeks, it felt like it was all we did. It quickly became our daily ritual - our conversations seamlessly intertwining with the rhythm of our lives. It didn't take me long to notice that the studio's most esteemed intern was passionate about everything under the sun. I had a hunch about it before, right after that party, but witnessing it daily for a couple of weeks was quite the eye-opener. Maddox's zeal for his beliefs and interests was boundless. It was a quality that proved both a blessing and a curse—a double-edged sword, if you will. He tackled every facet of life with unyielding fervor, from significant milestones to the tiniest minutiae that others might simply ignore or overlook. But not him. He simply couldn't.

As we delved into our conversations, our cups of coffee sat forgotten: growing cold as Maddie's excitement for seemingly mundane topics kept him in a perpetual state of restlessness and excitement. I found myself admiring and curious about this passion, even when he was animatedly discussing something as trivial as his daily bus ride to the studio. He knew how to tell a story, and he told it as if it were the plot of the most interesting book I had ever read. In the midst of one of his impassioned monologues, it struck me that perhaps these little things he was so fervent about should matter, and they did, just not in the way I perceived them. And I couldn't help but wonder what it said about my own character, and how callous I could be.

And then I thought again about that mirror, about my reflection and how completely different I'd seemed to look in it.

So, I made a conscious decision not to challenge him on those seemingly insignificant details that kept working him up, even though it was undeniably amusing to push his buttons... Even knowing full well it could lead to an unfortunate outcome for one of us, perhaps even a deadly one.

To be perfectly honest, I could imagine the scene vividly: my own funeral, with me laid out in a coffin, a coffee mug protruding from one eye, while the melancholic sounds of 'My Way' by Frank Sinatra echoed mournfully through the speakers. Tears would flow freely, accompanied by heartfelt eulogies lamenting my unfulfilled musical potential. And amidst this solemn affair: Maddox, dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit Sophie had likely purchased for him, angrily trying to ram a second mug into my other eye, all because I dared to say I didn't quite like Kubrick's 'Eyes Wide Shut'. All unfolding in slow motion, naturally.

It would certainly be a spectacle, a poignant icon of contemporary cinema.

But anyway, that was the kind of passion the intern possessed: fervent and unyielding. And while it was entertaining to witness, I couldn't help but wonder if my amusement would wane if I really was the one with a mug protruding from my eye. Maybe, just maybe, it would change my mind about it.

Day by day, our conversations continued, often accompanied by the sandwiches, bagels and sweets Maddox would bring from Violet's bakery. The entire studio adored those little freebie treats, further enhancing his already considerable popularity. No surprises there.

I refrained from asking about Violet, and Maddox rarely mentioned her name or delved into the intricacies of their relationship. Rarely, but not never. Yet, it was clear they were involved, especially given his penchant for weaving tales of his bedroom adventures into our discussions. He had a way of dressing his risqué anecdotes in eloquent and haughty terms, and – call me self-centered – but it seemed to me that he was always waiting for my reaction after telling me one. And my reaction was consistently the same—I laughed and bit back, refusing to be outdone.