Chapter 23 Mee Noi
Chapter Twenty-three: Mee Noi
June goes by in a blur of non-stop filming, photoshoots, and company appearances.
I thought I wasn’t going to be able to get through the first game show we did with the other Rainbow TV actors or the first live we did with our fan group, but Sud made doing them easier by just being with me. However, I’m exhausted.
The truth is, I’m struggling with acting.
It doesn’t come easy to me like it does to Sud.
I’m good at memorizing my lines but not so good at figuring out the emotions behind them.
I don’t want Sud to know how difficult it is for me, though, or how much I have to research and practice on my own just to do a passable job.
Today we had to do over a dozen takes for a scene because of me.
Frustrated and near tears, I finally break down and go to Khun Intapong to voice my concerns.
Smiling at me from behind her desk, she says, “You’re green, that’s all. We hire green actors all the time, Nong. From all reports, you’re doing just fine, but if it will make you feel more confident, I can ask Prapha to work with you after hours.”
Relieved, I thank her. I welcome P’Prapha’s help because I want to be better than “just fine” in this series. I don’t want to let Sud down.
On the way out, I stop and turn back to Khun Intapong. “Could you please not tell Sud about this extra work with P’Prapha, Khun-khap? I don’t want to worry him.”
“Of course,” Khun Intapong assures me.
From then on, after every long day of filming, I meet with P’Prapha to work on acting until I’m ready to fall over. Filming for the scene where my character breaks down is fast approaching, and I ask P’Prapha to continue training me in method acting.
“Are you sure you want to use method acting for this scene, Nong?” she asks me. “You had a difficult time pulling yourself out of it last time. Now that you’ve acted more, you can probably pull emotion out some other way.”
“I want to do what will give me the best results,” I say stubbornly, and she doesn’t argue.
Over the next couple of weeks, our sessions break me over and over again, leaving me in a state of extreme exhaustion and with a pounding stress headache.
Too tired when we’re finished to do more than drop onto a couch in one of the extra offices, I start showering in the locker room of the downstairs gym and changing into clothes I leave in one of the lockers.
When I feel like I can’t do it anymore, I remind myself that this is for Sud. I can’t let him down. His entire career rests on our performance as a couple in this series.
“Noi! Wait up!” Sud calls to me one night after we finish filming. “Let’s go get something to eat before we go home. We hardly get to talk anymore.”
It’s true—although we see each other every day, there’s no time for personal interaction. Sound and Train’s relationship is doing great, but Sud and Noi’s, not so much. We haven’t even been putting out anything on social media lately.
It’s your fault.
I feel like shit to always be making excuses, but what else can I do? I have to practice so he won’t be ashamed of the series we made together. I also don’t want him worrying that I’m running myself into the ground. It won’t be forever.
“I’m exhausted, Sud. I have to get to bed. I’m sorry. Another time?”
He looks like he doesn’t believe my excuse. I expect him to get angry, but he doesn’t. He just gives a forced smile and squeezes my shoulder.
“Get some rest, then. You need a ride home?” Lately I’ve been telling him I’m riding home with one of the actors who lives in the same building I do.
“Uh, no. I’m catching a ride with Ton again.”
Sud looks so sad, I almost take it back, tell P’Prapha I can’t meet her tonight, and go home with Sud. But then Khun Intapong calls for Sud, and I’m able to escape, circle around, and head back to the elevators and the floor where I’m meeting P’Prapha.
I don’t like to think about the moment Sud will turn around to find me gone.
Lying to him adds to my stress. Every night, I wake up from a familiar nightmare where I’m running through dense woods, frantically searching for someone or something.
I haven’t had that dream in years. I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, confused as to why I’m sprawled on the cramped couch in one of the spare offices instead of at home in bed.
Then reality settles in, and I don’t sleep well for the rest of the night.
A few days after that, after a late-night session with P’Prapha where I break down and cry until I’m hoarse, I fall asleep in the first chair I collapse in, too tired to even seek out a couch.
The next thing I know my phone is blaring the alarm and the early morning sun is shining on me through the windows.
Down in the gym, I discover I don’t have any clean clothes.
I have no choice but to head back to the apartment.
The moment I walk in, I make a b-line for the coffee pot.
I don’t notice Peach, Nat, and Bua sitting at the table having breakfast until I turn around, and, startled, almost drop my cup of coffee.
“We thought you were dead,” Bua says in her typical straight-forward fashion.
“No, I just feel dead,” I say, sitting down at the table and accepting the congee Peach sets before me with a quick wai.
“You look rough,” Nat says.
Peach’s brother practically lives at our place.
I let him sleep in my bed when I’m not there, which, these days, is most of the time.
A year younger than his sister, he’ll be starting at the university in August. I wonder if he’ll want to live here with Peach—If so, I’ll have to find another place or ask for a room in the dormitory.
I don’t speak until I finish eating.
“Sorry, I didn’t eat last night,” I say, pushing away my empty bowl.
“You look like hell,” Bua says. “What’s wrong with your voice?”
“I, uh.” I shake my head. “I’ve been working late.”
I take a sip of my coffee, appreciating how strong Bua makes it.
“All night?” Peach asks doubtfully.
“I slept at work.”
“Sud thinks you’re spending the night at P’Wisit’s,” Bua says, watching me closely.
I put down my cup. “Did he say that?”
“No, but he’s come by here early in the morning three times in the past two weeks, and when I told him I had no idea where you were, I could tell he came to his own conclusions.”
“Make that four times,” Peach says. “I answered when you were in the shower one morning.”
“Five,” Nat says.
“Shit.” I cover my face with my hands. Sud’s been here looking for me and I haven’t been here. Does he really think I’m staying with P’Wisit?
“He never said anything about it,” I say miserably.
Bua sighs dramatically. “Oh, what a tangled—“
Dropping my hands, I cut her off with a death glare.
“Are you staying with P’Wisit?“ Peach asks me.
When I don’t answer, Bua informs her, “No, he really is sleeping at the studio. He’s taking acting classes at night because he doesn’t think he’s good enough, and he doesn’t want Sud to know. He made me promise I wouldn’t tell Sud or anyone else.”
“Yet, here you are telling everybody,” I say.
Bua shakes her head. “The jig is up, Mee Noi. This can’t go on.”
Nat looks at me curiously. “Don’t you think it would be better to tell him the truth than to let him believe you’re sleeping with P’Wisit? I mean, it’s obvious he’s upset about it. At least to me, it is.” He looks at the girls, and they both nod.
I gape at him. “Sleeping with P’Wisit? Why would I be sleeping with him?”
Bua shrugs. “Why else do two grown men spend their nights together?”
“Uh, video games? Watching movies? I don’t know, but not sleeping together.”
She looks at me like I can’t possibly be serious. “Think of it from Sud’s perspective. Why else would you be lying to him? What would you think if he was making excuses to you and secretly sleeping over at some girl’s place? I can guarantee it wouldn’t be that they’re playing Uno all night.”
I wilt in my chair. “But I’m not sleeping at someone’s place. I’m sleeping at work,” I say earnestly.
Sud called you na?ve, but maybe you’re just damn stupid.
Becoming more distressed by the second, I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at it.
Dead. Of course it is.
Jumping up, I hurry to my bedroom to charge it, calling over my shoulder, “Why didn’t you guys tell me before that he’s been coming by here looking for me?”
“Who can get a hold of you these days?” Peach calls back.
Shit, I’ve got to fix this.
It’s like I’ve been living in a bubble, unaware of everything going on around me except for work and practice.
When my phone doesn’t light up when I connect it to the charger, I discover the latter has come unplugged from the strip, and I get on my hands and knees to plug it in again.
Sud’s voice behind me jerks me to attention, and my head nearly collides with the corner of the nightstand.
Turning, I rise to my feet to greet him, watching as his gaze moves over me, absorbing my disheveled hair and the wrinkled clothes he undoubtedly recognizes from the day before.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly. “I just tried to call you, but my phone is dead.”
Sud doesn’t look like he believes me, which I guess I deserve. “Been out all night?” he asks. He’s pale, dark shadows circle his eyes, and he looks so damn tired.
Full of regret, I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms tightly around his middle and burying my face in his chest. I hate what he’s been thinking. I hate myself for thinking that lying to him was the right thing to do.
When he doesn’t immediately hug me back, cold devastation runs through me, but, selfish as always, I don’t pull away. I need him.
“I’ve been so stupid,” I murmur brokenly into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
At my first stifled sob, Sud finally pulls me closer, and the old feeling of comfort and safety I was longing for chases the tension out of my body, giving it over to the worry, fear, and shame that I’ve lived with for the past couple of weeks.