These characters belong to Aaron Sorkin and the masterpiece that is the 2006 television series Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip. I am not making any profit from this except for a little writing practice.
This one is inspired by two moments in backwards order: "Monday," where Harriet and Matthew are having a fairly jovial conversation and, as though she wants the last word, she spouts out "I loathe you" and it makes Matt laugh like she's teasing him and this is one of their things. And "The West Coast Delay" where Harriet says the same thing.
And the delivery and lexical choice of "I'm extremely ambivalent" which will forever live rent-free in my mind.
Three words.
Three words she threw at him quite a bit.
I. Loathe. You.
Only the middle word held any real meaning. And it was fairly interchangable, synonymous with a few different things.
Harriet was always careful never to say them when they were fighting for real. She didn't need that rule set in stone because she knew the importance of words and how reverently Matthew treated them. He never said anything he didn't mean, picking his words carefully. So neither did she. And Harriet never meant 'loathe' as in 'hate' which Matthew would interpret it as if she ever said it when they were really fighting.
But when she and Matt got into a funk, bored with a lazy Monday night but not wanting to go out. Then she'd spout out the phrase to mean that she was blaming her boredom on him and disliking it greatly. In that moment, Matt would lean over the length of the couch, close his laptop and press a kiss to her lips. Depending on how far away they'd been sitting and how recently they'd eaten, they'd either sink into the kiss, him sucking her bottom lip between his teeth with his palm pressed against her cheek as Harriet allowed him to lean over her. Or he'd slap his thigh and stand up, collecting the chinese takeout menues from the kitchen draw and the phone from the cradle on his way back to sit beside her, run through the motions of picking a dish, and calling the familiar number to order the same two meals they always did.
In soft moments like that, sharing the couch together, exhausted and bored but not sleepy, Harry would look over at Matthew reading and tell him a different three words and garner the same reaction. "I love you," made him hum before he closed his book and kiss her cheek before her mouth.
When they bantered, him looking for help with writing authentic dialogue, Harriet would throw in the line just to see how he worked it in, if he did. Whether he did or not, the line always jarred him out of his writer's block or surprised him enough to give him a moment to pause and think about the words he was writing. In which case, Matt would grin over at her apologetically and bury his nose in his laptop.
She said it when he was sitting at his office while she was waiting to curl up against his chest in bed, lulled to sleep by his breathing. Or, if they were spending the night in her apartment and he was on a writing binge at the desk in the corner of her room. She'd request that he moved there despite his protests that he'd be up late and should stay in the dining room because she needed sleep, but eventually the light and the scratching of his pencil or the clacking of keys would grow insufferable and Harriet would blurt out "I loathe you" to coax him to bed.
In the same way, replacing 'loathe' with 'love' would cause Matthew Albie to pause and smile that small, toothless grin of his. He'd blush and shake his head as though she'd thoroughly confused him and Harriet's job would be done.
Back when they had been trying to keep their relationship out of the public eye the second time they were together, Harriet would use the term 'loathe' sarcastically, meaning the exact opposite and using the phrase to hide her true meaning in broad daylight right in front of other people. In that context, Matt would blush. It would be the best reaction Harriet could have gotten and she would flush just the same. If press photographers happened to catch the reaction, Harriet would crow about it for weeks just to tease Matthew into blushing again.
Whenever they were cross with each other, mad and biting out retorts at one another, Harriet would spout out the line as a way of getting the last word in. She'd use it to mean she was intolerant. Of him. Of their conversation. Of the way they were speaking to each other and the fact they were caught in the whirlpool of vicious misunderstandings. She was intolerant of him and their relationship in times like that and Matt appreciated that was how she meant the word. Even in the middle of a mild fight, when she told him she loathed him, Matthew understood what she meant and gave her the space she needed.
But they'd been together so long that she used 'loathe' affectionately too.
When Matt was being facetious and teasing, proudly announcing he had good news for the two of them but not revealing that it was the sketch they had worked on making it to air for the first time, Harriet had said those three words to him then. She'd almost said a different 'L' word but had caught herself just in time.
When Matt was dragging out the anticipation and winding her up with his lips and fingers, she'd whine that she loathed him to spur him into action.
When he caught Samantha and Simon's attention by addressing them and ignoring her.
When he sounded like he was in a rush, or a rut still, as though he needed three words to pull him out of his funk.
She knew it was wrong to bring in her friends to their petty little argument and probably a little wicked to play into Matthew's jealousy. But Harriet also knew how brilliant Matt was and how well he dealt with rapidly approaching deadlines. Whatever he'd just handed to Simon was probably great, most of the show was done, and it looked like Ricky and Ron might actually have been helpful this week.
He only had twelve minutes to write and more than a day and a half with a writing staff to do it. If Matt wanted jealousy and to make good on his promise that he "intended to win her back," she'd give him a chance to do it.
In fact, that's what she wanted last week before the focus data was revealed, but Matt had run off before she'd gotten a chance to broach the subject. After which, she'd been caught up in the high of Jeannie squealing in that hideously charming tee shirt, and the boys cheering and Danny asking her a dance. At the end of the song she'd asked Danny where Matt was, hoping to talk to him about their relationship. He'd writen two great shows in a row and deserved credit for that. Moreover, if his biggest fear was letting down the show and the workers by being together, then these ratings were indicative that even if their relationship did alienate staff and cause a drop in ratings, the set would be no more uncomfortable and the show would still be above equal to what it had been before Matt and Danny took it over. Without being able to speak to him on Friday night, Harriet had spent the weekend wondering about a present she could give him to open the conversation.
Which had gone horribly sideways when Matt found Darren's number on the baseball bat she handed him, much to her shock.
"You know, maybe the reason Darren Wells and I get along so well is that he likes to both talk and listen," she grinned as she told Samantha.
Even though Harriet couldn't feel his eyes on her, that he'd barged in searching for Simon with his entourage of writers, Matt was listening to her intently and mimicked her exact phraseology.
"Or maybe the reason they get along so well is they both have roughly the same chance of getting a hit in a baseball game."
That was funny. He was quick-witted and fiery and it was fun to bounce back words like a tennis ball between them. She loved how quick he was and how words dripped from his lips always with an unpredictable lilt and emphasis that shocked her even after knowing him for so long. She knew him intimately, better than anybody except maybe Danny, and still she was surprised by the words Matthew chose to construct a sentence with and was intolerably unable to predict how he would say them, let alone how he was expecting them to be pronounced as he was writing the words for her.
There was nothing left to say but she wanted to keep bantering with him, testing that intolerable quick-wit and distract him from his stress. So Harriet turned to her trusty words.
"I loathe you."
Matt didn't grin and hum through his teeth like he normally did when she told him those three words and Harriet's smile fell.
She'd hurt him by giving him the bat and this dramatic argument of theirs was more than just blowing off steam about it and being jealous. Harriet had caused him pain.
So much so that Matt didn't even spare her another glance, preferring to look between Ricky and Ron and Simon - Ricky! instead of her.
Matt blew out of the room without quipping out a final rebuttal so that he could have the last word that he so often craved, turning back to be spiteful or petty or to win some misguided contest. He left silently, instead.
That made Tom leapt out of his chair and followed him.
Harriet closed her eyes.
She didn't loathe him.
Not by a long shot.
Quite the opposite actually.
