The Cordie Marshall interview

TW Mention of homophobia and internalised homophobia



Neve knew a lot about Cordie Marshall. She knew that Cordelia ‘Cordie’ Marshall was born in 1986 on the 12th of July, making her 23 years old at the time. She had been in 26 movies, nominated for 33 awards and won 19 of them. Her favourite colour was lilac, but she couldn’t wear it since she believed it clashed with her hair. 

Neve also knew that she was rumoured to be the biggest sex symbol after Monroe. Her skin transformed to gold in the spotlights, her voice celestial through a microphone. Cordie was adored by the world and cradled in Hollywood.

Neve had followed the actress ever since she started as a journalist. They were both young and aspiring, rising together in their individual industries rather quickly. 

Only last week, she read a different type of article. She had not written it, yet every other press company, no matter how big or small, were printing similar narratives. 

Ranging from the magazines, radio stations and passing vexes across the streets, Cordie had become ‘revolting’. An anonymous eyewitness had reported the celebrity being intimate with another woman. Neve didn’t want to focus on the details, but it had provoked Cordie’s audience by the masses. 

It had all come as a shock to Neve; such a beautiful, talented woman, the epitome of a man’s desires throughout the 2000s, exposed as queer. She didn’t know what to think of it all. All she could do was stare down at the glossy tabloids on her desk.

The surge of gossip was like a rollercoaster, a legion of different emotions coiled into a two-minute experience. Every second of each day, she found herself absorbed in the different views of the public. With social media quickly on the rise in 2009, news started to spread like wildfire, ignited at the first sign of drama. Most users were dripping with abhorrence and malevolence, the rest were typically men deciding ‘it only made her hotter’. 

Everyone wanted answers, and Neve could only fit so many into her interview with the great Cordie Marshall on Sunday. The first newspaper had dropped eleven days ago, which meant the comments only snowballed into a nerve-wracking consultation to plan. 

Neve of course had many questions herself, but one kept coming back to her: why the hell hadn’t she cancelled? Cordie had more than enough time to reschedule or even refuse the meeting when the scandal was first broken.  

The sickening ache in the journalist’s stomach sort of wished she had, it would’ve saved her the wrinkles and insomnia. Her mind was caught in the crossfire between bringing up the allegations or leaving it; if she did, the interview would be viral, her article would be bought all over the world. But the thought of all of it made her shiver. The news was explicit to publish, she didn’t know how she could even bring it up.

Nevertheless, here she was. Less than an hour before she sat down with the woman she had recorded for years. Cordie still hadn’t done a statement for the claims, this was her first time seen by the public since the news had been published.

Once she sat in the small dark recording room, Neve desperately attempted to calm herself before Cordie entered the room or the camera’s began rolling.

She didn’t speak as the camera crew tested the lights, only making a noise as they tested the audio volumes. From the unnerved glances they casted, it was clear that some of them were just as skittish – Neve didn’t exactly find comfort in it.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and light poured into the room from the outside. Neve tightened the grip on her pen until her fingers turned bone white and swallowed her heart back down her throat. 

The murmurs of Cordie Marshall lingered across the dying commotion as she stepped in. 

Her dusty blonde was iconically styled (Just as thousands of girls across the world had pleaded with their mothers for). Her skin was blessed from any imperfections. Of course, she wore makeup anyway, smoky eyes and dark lips were always her look. Her clothes had once been applauded for being unconventional for the time, but Neve had seen that it was now the one thing her haters seemed to pick on now. They said all sorts of things about her fashion and how it was ‘Queer enough’ – they often used harsher words that Neve didn’t dare repeat. 

Cordie tried to meet Neve’s eyes to offer a greeting, but Neve couldn’t help but awkwardly looked towards the floor. She could only focus on her notes until they were doing final checks. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Cordie murmured, planting herself in the seat opposite Neve.  

A couple of girls ran forwards to smoothen down their hair, clothes and pick stray lint from their shoulders. It was easily discernible that the runner who was fixing Cordie’s collar that she had heard the news. She barely used the tips of her nails, like Cordie was some sort of congealed acid formed into the shape of a model. 

Cordie stayed silent, and Neve couldn’t help noticing how suffocating quietude could be in such a crowded room

“Right, let’s get this started.” The producer’s voice eventually floated shapelessly among the darkness. “Three...”

Neve took in the last nervous deep breath she could before the camera’s light flicked red. Cordie took a silent sip of water from her glass. 

“Two…” The notes in front of the adrenalised journalist would’ve been just as useful if they were blank. She was lucky they were ingrained in her mind, buzzing on the surface of her practised tongue. “One. Action.”

Suddenly, the intensity of the room swelled until it seemed to burst into silence apart from two smiles, and one very energetic voice. It took Neve a moment to recognise it as her own as instinct carved the introduction out on command. 

They managed some normal back and forth before the questions started, Although, through every word, Neve couldn’t help thinking about the articles and the pictures that had been printed. It was the same girl. The same girl in front of her talking as if nothing had happened.

Still, she answered question after question, laughed when it was appropriate, nodded when it was necessary. Meanwhile, Neve continued to consider asking the remaining question crossed out within the footnotes of her page. 

However, it seemed that the rough outline of the question was easily predictable. As Neve dumbly stared down at it, she prayed that if she read it enough times that the words would ring out from the ink and speak for themselves. 

“I can guess the last question.” Cordie’s voice sent ice hardening Neve’s muscles in place. She shot her head up like she had been caught cheating on a test. The clock struck louder than before, and Neve could tell that she was wasting valuable time staring at a singular question.

‘You must have heard the rumours of late, do you oppose them or wish to speak on it?’

“I don’t know how- I’m so-” She inwardly cringed at herself, vowing to herself that she would try to edit the stuttering out in post. 

“You don’t need to apologise.” Cordie interrupted. She shifted in her seat, looking at the shadows that turned perfectly still behind the camera. “It’s what everyone will watch this for.”

Neve tried her best to smile but it felt too sneering and placid at the same time. “Do you wish to oppose them?”

She immediately regretted the question from how the actress frowned. Was her tone wrong? Did she make her guest uncomfortable? Had she seemed too critical at the idea of it all?

“I don’t oppose anything.” Cordie’s output acted like a sedative to Neve’s racing thoughts. “I would have liked my personal life far from my work but I suppose it was bound to come out eventually.”

Neve felt her mouth turn dry. Hoping that Cordie could take over the entire debacle, she stayed perfectly still. 

“I wouldn’t wish on anyone being outed like that, and I think it’s disgusting sharing those pictures. I mean, I understand the excitement of it I guess.”

Only once a few seconds of silence passed did Neve offer any more input. Her voice was still irritatingly stalling like a faulty engine. “So you are now identifying as a… Lesbian?”

“As a Lesbian yes.” Cordie repeated with more fluidity, the label more rounded and moulded to her tongue. Then, she cracked out that familiar smile. “I’m sorry to disappoint any men who thought they had a chance.”

Neve bares her teeth again and laughs awkwardly, the feeling of dread trickling into her stomach, as if this interview was teetering out of her control. 

She took a deep breath. No. Cordie was happily laughing at her own joke and the conversation continued with complete control of what was being discussed. Still, her body felt too stiff to be in front of a camera. especially since it was practically guaranteed to be streamed across thousands of televisions at home. Many nods and shaking heads were waiting for clarification behind screens. 

“Well, we appreciate you for coming up here tonight, Cordie.” Neve declared once the tinny voice within her ear piece told her to ‘round it up’. “You are one of the very best in your line of work, and I can’t fault you on anything.”

The statement felt better knowing it was a formality of interviewing celebrities rather than the deep pride Neve cherished for Cordie. She reckoned that a secret like that was rather like having any kind of explicit picture leaked - it made it easier to understand that way.

“I hope your upcoming movie, ‘Defined’ is on the rise to becoming the next big flick of the season. I’m glad we could speak to you.”

“Thank you, Neve.” Cordie’s eyes were a deep, milky brown staring back at the journalist. Despite the layered dark makeup they seemed genuine with a doe-like fragility. Neve had seen many clips of Marshall online, recognised those eyes at premier nights and previous conversations. But this time, it was clear that she had been changed. Stripped down to nothing but a title and sexual orientation. Neve guessed that any word of encouragement was to be appreciated with candour in such a dark and twisted world.

The shout of the director’s ‘cut’ yanked Neve from the moment. She quickly stood and gathered her notes. The entire set bustled with life again as they went over any last-minute decisions like sound bites and photos of Cordie in her chair. 

Eventually, Neve was granted leave and said a rushed goodbye to everyone before striding out to gather her stuff. The hair on her arms bristled as she shoved her belongings into her purse. Her mind only conjured a single reaction to the media she had captured: Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.

She was halfway to her taxi when a voice had her feet paralysed on the tarmac of the car park. “Neve!” 

Neve wheeled around in an instance, and for the second time today felt her heart lurch at the sight of Cordie. She hissed at herself to pull it together, she shouldn’t let some news change how she reacted to a celebrity she had met on several occasions. “Oh, hello Cordie.”

The actor stopped; her fingers dug in the back pockets of her wide-legged jeans. “Could we… Talk? Maybe get a drink?”

Neve felt a wave of heat smack her in the face, forcing her to squirm uncomfortably. She could only manage to stare at the ground.

“Oh- no not like that I just-” Cordie rambled, “I wanted to talk to you, or some sort of press on how to deal with this further. Off record of course.” 

Neve only felt herself flush more. Of course, Cordie had meant that, how narrow-minded must she be to think anything further than that. “Oh, yes of course- yeah I can offer some advice.”

The word ‘advice’ felt wrong. Neve wasn’t a lawyer, nor had experience with any sort of gay rights movement, none of her friends were lesbians. The word ‘queer’ in her house growing up wasn’t used often, and if it was it usually wasn’t used pleasantly.

An hour later and she could only think of more reasons as she sat opposite Cordie in a small pub isolated from much of civilization. Still, her bodyguard lurked only a few tables away ominously. 

“I am sorry about it all.” Neve couldn’t help spitting out once they had begun sipping their drinks. 

“I know.” Cordie replied. “But you don’t need to be scared of me.”

A rush of embarrassment flooded Neve’s system. Was it that obvious?

“I’m sorry, it’s just… unexpected.” She started hesitantly, grateful for Cordie’s encouraging nods. “I mean, all your movies; All the men you had to kiss, how you look…”

Cordie simply smiled and rubbed at her clementine-coloured nail polish. “It was acting. Just like if any straight girl had to kiss a man – it wouldn’t be different. I’ve always known I was gay. I didn’t want it to be something that held me back from acting. I’m still the little girl who wanted a blockbuster and a wife.”

Neve took another sip, reminiscing on the difference between Cordie in interviews and Cordie’s roles. She had the same bone structure as a model, no wonder she is casted as the main love interest so often. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed.” Neve admitted, shaking her head. “I guess I’m new to all this. I’ve just followed your career for so long, I’m mad at myself I didn’t take it into account. I mean… You’ve not had any confirmed boyfriends and opposed so many men asking you out.”

“Well, I hope I’ve cleared things up for them now.” Cordie’s laugh was so soft and unharming, Neve couldn’t understand why anyone could hurt her with the comments she had heard within the past week. “I don’t think I’ll be seen much in movies anymore anyway.”

“No, I'm sure that you’ll get through this.” Neve felt herself smile purely for the first time all day. “I mean there are gay celebrities.”

Cordie laughed so richly it tickled against Neve’s arms. “They’re men who came out on their own terms and don't have leaked photos of them making out with some other man in a backstreet.”

“I guess not then.” Neve sniggered back. “Well, you can be the first then. I can’t think of any other famous lesbian actors.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“What?”

“‘Lesbian’. You hesitate before you say it.”

The room suddenly felt much warmer than it did before. Neve refused to shudder at the sweat gathering down her spine. “I- don’t know.”

Cordie looked at her a while longer, her eyes too compassionate to seem piercing despite the interrogative question. If anything, they looked remorseful. Like Neve was stuck in a snow globe of her own isolated world, blank of knowledge or a friend to talk to. 

“You’ll carry on.” It was all Neve could manage. “If you send a rough draft of a statement I’ll add some pointers.”

“Thank you, Neve.” Cordie murmured, sliding back in her chair with relief. “I always knew you were a decent person.”

“You remembered me?” The journalist couldn’t help but feel a sting of surprise. 

“I’m good with names.” Cordie smiled shyly, it looked unfamiliar compared to what Neve had seen in videos or pictures. Regrettably, only a meniscus of orange alcohol remained at the bottom of both of their glasses. Cordie seemed to realise that, clearing her throat and pushing away from the table.

“Thanks again. I should probably leave before the people start arriving for the night. Can’t be seen with a woman alone anymore.” Neve couldn’t tell if she was joking but decided on a sympathetic smile as a reply. She was more focused on the question that ticked in the forefront of her mind

“Wait.” Cordie stopped before she could utter out a ‘goodbye’. “How did you know you… you were a lesbian?”

The silence lay thick across the room, Neve was sure she could hear the ceramics and glasses in the kitchen better than the person right in front of her, staring with an unreadable expression. 

“Is- is this for a soundbite or just your own curiosity?” Cordie asked. Neve shrugged, perhaps unsure herself as to why she didn’t have any inclination to click ‘play’ on her voice recorder throughout all their deep talk.

“Off the record.” She mimicked Cordie, a strange calmness seemed to loosen her tongue after all they had talked about. The actor held her purse closer to her shoulder, pulling her bleached hair from under the bag strap.

“This girl in school. We were just friends, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her sometimes. I knew that the boys liked her, and she liked the boys, so I kept my distance. I don’t think she ever knew, but who knows… Probably does now.”

Neve blew out a breath and shook her head. Cordie always made witty comments tagged onto serious questions, usually at the end before she walked away from the microphone.

“It was nice meeting you outside of interviewing, Neve. Even if it was under these circumstances. Talk soon.”

“Goodbye.” All other words fell flat on Neve’s tongue.

She watched helplessly as Cordie left with all her hair that didn’t match the colour lilac, her quirky clothing Neve quite liked, and fragile brown eyes she was enamoured by rather than jealous of. 

Even when her phone flashed to life with a message, Neve didn’t look away until the door had closed behind Cordie’s security guard. Only then did she look hollowly down at the text from her husband until her phone’s screen faded back to black.