He shot music videos for local bands, promotional clips for restaurants, weddings when he needed quick money, and short films that usually cost more to make than they earned.
But he was talented.
That part was real.
The first time I saw one of his films, I understood why he refused to give up.
Marcus could make an abandoned parking lot look beautiful.
He could turn three minutes of ordinary footage into something that made people emotional.
And when he spoke about the future, he made you believe you could already see it.
“I’m going to have my own production company someday,” he told me on our fourth date.
We were sitting on the hood of his ancient Honda Civic eating tacos from a food truck.
“And when I do, I’m buying you a house with a ridiculous kitchen.”
I laughed.
“Why?”
“Because you complain every apartment kitchen is too small.”
“I’ve known you for three weeks.”
He grinned.
“I plan ahead.”
That was Marcus.
He always planned the beautiful parts.
Someone else just had to handle everything required to reach them.
Eventually, that someone became me.
When we first moved in together, things were fairly equal.
I worked in operations for a healthcare software company.
Marcus worked freelance.
Some months he earned almost as much as I did.
Other months, he barely made enough to cover gasoline.
Whenever he came up short, I helped.
It seemed reasonable.
Partners helped each other.
At least that was what I told myself.
Then one bad month became three.
Then his camera broke.
Then he needed editing software.
Then he needed a better laptop because his old one couldn’t handle larger projects.
Then there were business cards.
Website fees.
New lenses.
Travel expenses.
