Chapter Fourteen Sud
It’s been a month since Noi and I started working for Rainbow TV, and I’m having trouble focusing on schoolwork.
I got a strict reprimanding from Mae about neglecting my studies when she called me last night, hence the reason I’m studying English while eating my chicken kuay teow in the canteen with Noi.
But I’m distracted, thinking about the workshops.
I don’t know how I’d be feeling about them if it weren’t for Noi.
Right now, we’re only going twice a week.
We read the script together, practice scenes with the acting coach, and do acting exercises with the rest of the cast. And then there are the skinship sessions.
The first couple of times we were directed to get very close and stare into each other’s eyes or hold hands during an entire team activity, we both had to stifle embarrassed laughter, but it didn’t take long for us to get comfortable with the more intimate contact.
I know it wouldn’t be as easy for me with someone other than Noi as my partner.
Everyone at Rainbow TV has been so nice.
I haven’t seen any of the backstabbing I’ve heard happens in the business, but maybe people are just good at hiding it.
Khun Intapong told me and Noi that it’s important that their shipped couples be happy and that if we ever decided we didn’t want to be together anymore, we should come to her immediately and she’d find us someone else to work with.
I can’t see that ever happening. At least, not on my end.
The thought of Noi preferring another partner brings all kinds of feelings I’m not sure what to do with.
I abruptly pop out of my thoughts when I hear Noi talking to someone.
Looking up from my textbook, which I’d been staring at while I thought about workshops, I realize Wisit Klinhom, the head third year in the medical faculty who helped organize our freshman orientation and pretty much king of the campus, is sitting at our table chatting with Noi. I wonder how Noi knows him.
When Noi sees I’m looking at them, he says, “P’Wisit, this is my best friend, Sud.”
P’Wisit greets me, and I give him the wai back, before looking at Noi in question. Did P’Wisit sit down with us for a reason? He isn’t eating. Is he asking a favor of Noi? But the two of them resume chatting, and I realize they’re talking about food.
“There’s a stall at the night market that serves the best moo ping I’ve ever tasted. I was planning to get some tonight. Would you like to go?” P’Wisit asks Noi.
“He has a class,” I say.
Noi glances at me and then back at P’Wisit. “I’m sorry, ‘P. Sud’s right—I do have a class tonight.”
“Maybe some other time, then,” P’Wisit says with a smile. It irritates me for some reason.
Someone at another table calls to P’Wisit, and he tells us goodbye, his eyes lingering on Noi a moment before turning away.
“Why did he sit down to talk to you?” I ask.
Noi shrugs. “Just being nice, I guess? The first time he did it, I thought maybe he wanted me to help him with a club the way P’Tam did, but now I think he’s just friendly.”
“He’s talked to you before?”
Noi nods. “He’s brought me bubble tea a few times. Somehow, he knew the one I like the best—maybe from my Instagram? He says he follows me. He probably follows a lot of people here. I guess it’s just normal P/Nong stuff.” He shrugs.
“That is not normal P/Nong stuff. P’Kit is the senior assigned to you, not P’Wisit. And he doesn’t bring you bubble tea. He helps you get notes for classes and reminds you about class meetings. Just like P’James doesn’t bring me bubble tea. He doesn’t follow me on Instagram, either.”
Noi stops eating and looks up at me. “Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad,” I say.
Frowning, Noi says, “Well, you certainly sound like you are. Do you not like P’Wisit or something? I didn’t realize you knew him.”
Since I have no idea why I’m so annoyed, I take a deep breath and let it out before saying, “Ignore me. I’m just frustrated with English.
” Who cares if some guy is being nice to Noi?
I want him to have friends. Maybe the extra hours of workshops are getting to me.
Maybe it’s my natural instinct to protect Noi shifting into overdrive.
I don’t know, but one thing is clear: I really need to chill.
***
The next day we have a meeting with P’Sign before our workshop.
“I hear you two are doing great,” P’Sign says, regarding us from behind large turquoise glasses. I’m pretty sure they’re not prescription. “I knew you two would fit right in. How do you feel?”
Both Noi and I assure him that we feel great.
“Nongs Payu and Tar were supposed to rehearse a few scenes with you today, but Tar needs to record the theme to the show.”
“P’Tar sings?” Noi asks. “I didn’t know that.”
“Everybody sings,” P’Sign says.
Noi and I exchange confused looks.
“What I mean is, bad or good, pretty much every actor sings at some point, whether in a series or at a fan meet or a show. I remember this one actor who couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, and he sang in at least half a dozen scenes in his series.
It was like nails scraping a chalkboard. But his fans loved it.”
While Noi and I digest that information, P’Sign pulls his calendar closer to him on his desk.
“Your school term ends in May, right? Okay, other than the scenes for the unofficial trailer, which will eventually be shot on Saturdays during the school term, filming for the series will begin as soon as exams are over. They’ve scheduled the location scenes for July to accommodate your school calendar.
All of Tar and Payu’s scenes by themselves, except for those on location, have already been filmed.
Today…” He looks at his calendar again. “Mee Noi, you’ll be working with the acting coach on a scene.
Sud, you’ll be working with a fight-scene choreographer and Nong Pan in preparation for a future fight scene. ”
I nod. P’Pan is a couple of years older than I am. His height, muscles, stoic expression, and steely-eyed stare make him look formidable, but he’s really a very nice guy.
The producer promised us Sundays off until the school year ends, but they’ve been compensating by working us long and hard on Saturdays in workshop. I look at Noi. He seems okay—not particularly tired or overworked. I question him with my eyes, and he smiles in answer.
When we leave P’Sign’s office, we split up.
Noi heads for the workshop room to meet with the acting coach, and I take the elevator to the third floor where a man named Tang tells me to change into sweats and proceeds to take me and P’Pan through hours of moves for a scene where his character and mine get into a physical fight.
Kicks, punches, shoves—all carefully choreographed to appear real.
When we finish, I’m exhausted and probably bruised, while P’Pan looks unaffected.
“Aren’t you leaving?” he asks when I push the up button on the elevator.
“I’m going to get Noi first,” I say.
With a nod, P’Pan takes the adjacent elevator down, waving to me as the doors close.
Upstairs, where windows line the hallway, I’m surprised to see the sun has set. I’m tired and hungry and hope that Noi is finished with the acting coach so we can get some dinner.
When I walk into the common room where most of the workshops take place, my eyes immediately go to Noi sitting on the couch, mopping at tears with a tissue.
Alarmed, I rush over to him. “Noi, what’s wrong?”
Shaking his head, Noi looks away as he continues to dab at his face, his shoulders shaking.
What could have happened? Was he reprimanded for doing something wrong? I look around, and spot P’Prapha approaching.
“What happened?” I ask her.
“Noi was rehearsing for a very emotional scene,” she explains.
“After talking about all the aspects he has in common with his character, we decided method acting was the best approach. Khun Intapong argued with the director about including it in the trailer when Noi has had so little time to prepare, but P’Tee insists we at least try.
It’s taken all day, but Nong finally tapped into the pain he needed for the scene.
It went well. I’m very pleased.” She smiles.
Anger washes over me. “What do you mean, tap into the pain? What did you do to him to get him this upset?”
I wasn’t aware I raised my voice until P’Sign rushes over to us, waving his hands in agitation.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, glancing from me to Noi, who’s still crying.
“I don’t see why you have to upset him like this,” I say to P’Prapha. Noi grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers.
“He made himself cry. On purpose. That’s what method acting is—taking on the emotions of your character while drawing on your own life experiences,” P’Prapha explains as though I’m a child.
“I know what it is, I’m a theater arts student. You made him dredge up painful memories in order to do the scene.”
“Nong agreed to the method,” P’Prapha argues. “I don’t know what memories he used to get there.”
“Let’s just calm down. I’ll get Nong some water,” P’Sign says, and hurries off.
Sitting beside Noi, I try to pull him into my arms, but he won’t let me.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he chokes out, and heads for the door.
I don’t know what kind of conflicts Noi’s character faces, and I could kick myself for not foreseeing something like this happening. I’ve been reading the novel whenever I have a chance, but between school and workshops, I haven’t gotten very far.
“You’re reacting rather strongly to this, Sud,” P’Prapha says, looking at me curiously.
It isn’t my place to say anything about Noi’s past, so I remain silent.
A few minutes later Noi returns, his face red and a little swollen. P’Sign approaches him with a bottle of water.
“I’m taking him home,” I say.
“That’s a good idea. It’s been a long day,” P’Sign says, nodding.
P’Prapha looks at Noi kindly. “You did really good work today, Nong. I’m proud of you.”
An arm around Noi’s shoulder, P’Sign walks him out, talking softly to him. P’Prapha turns to me. “I know it looks bad, but this is a good sign of his acting abilities. If he can tap into raw emotion like that, he’ll go far.”
My worry is, at what cost?