Chapter 1 #2
I decide to do some audition prep to keep my mind off things. But I’ve etched the lines so entirely into my brain over the last few days that I could probably recite them in my sleep. So in the moments while I’m waiting for her, I might as well attempt something new.
An acting teacher once told me that the best way to get into a character is to pretend that they can only live while you’re inhabiting them. And so I close my eyes, breathe, and imagine Amelia coming to life.
I take a deep breath, trying to get into Amelia’s character. Stepping into her shoes. Visualising her standing in front of me, walking forwards into her energy.
I sink into it, straightening my spine. Imagining someone pulling a thread from the top of my head to the ceiling.
There’s her confidence, her ability to walk into the room and own it.
The feeling I’m always trying to channel, when I need it.
Thinking of her when I need a boost, or when I’m feeling socially out of place.
This time, taking that thought a step further – rather than just channelling her energy, I’m trying to become her.
Opening my eyes, immediately I feel more exposed – like people must be looking at me, wondering who I think I am to sit so confidently.
But I breathe out, staying with it. With her.
The waiter comes over and I order a coffee – delivering the words as if they were a line in a script, smiling as I do.
They return my smile, and something lights up in me momentarily.
‘Hey!’ A voice comes from near the door, a hurricane of bright colour hurtling towards me. And I’m suddenly, horribly embarrassed by what I’m doing. I thud back into my body – Lara, again. My sister, Alison, standing opposite me.
And by the look on her face, I have some explaining to do.
‘So you’re telling me,’ Alison says, hands on her hips, ‘that you have a screen test for a film tomorrow, and I’m only hearing about it from Mum and Dad in the family fucking group chat?
’ Her tone is bright, as per usual, but there’s something underneath it.
She’s pissed off. Still, I can’t help but smile when I see her.
Alison and I don’t always get along, but her energy is addictive, like sunshine – she breezes into every room and lights it up instantly, leaving it brighter than it was before. I’ve always been jealous of it.
‘I didn’t want to jinx it,’ I say, brushing aside the guilt of not telling her.
But this kind of boundary is necessary, because I know she’s never understood why I pursued this career.
Can’t wrap her head around why I’d want to voluntarily subject myself to the same instability we had as kids.
And I get it. Our dad lost his job when I was young and our family had moved to five different towns by the time I was eighteen, fracturing our childhood into pieces.
She’s protective. The trouble is, her protectiveness often comes across as judgement.
It’s hard, when I’m with her, to feel like I’m doing anything right in my life.
Any problems I come to her with are always of my own creation.
‘Always so superstitious,’ she says, the hurt overlaid by sarcasm, and my heart pinches slightly.
‘I’m sorry, Ally,’ I say, my voice soft.
‘Alright, I’ll ignore the fact that I’m fucking furious with you if you tell me all the details now,’ Alison says, with a smile that tells me she’s softening. ‘What is it for?’
I tell her and she smiles broadly, excitement flashing across her face. Excitement that makes me light up momentarily. Because this is the most positive she has seemed about my job in a long time.
‘Those books you always had your head buried in as a kid, right?’
‘Yes,’ I say, smiling at the fact that she sounds still slightly horrified by the fact that I spent so much of my time reading and so little of it doing… well, anything else.
‘And who is it with?’
This isn’t such an easy question to answer.
Alison doesn’t know much about Avi. She knows that we crossed paths but she was at university in Sheffield at the time, making friends and finding her feet.
And I’ve never been particularly open with my sister about my love life – or anything, really.
Despite her numerous attempts to set me up on dates, to try to get me to have more of a social life.
I’m always scared she’ll have too much to say.
And usually there’s nothing to tell anyway.
‘Avi Kumar,’ I say, after a brief pause.
‘Oh, my God,’ she says. ‘This is huge, Lara!’ She starts to freak out, which sends another flicker of joy through me. But then she frowns a little. ‘Hang on. Don’t you know him?’
I nod, pursing my lips a little. ‘I’ve met him, yeah. We used to work in the pub together.’
‘How are you feeling about it?’ she asks.
‘Losing my fucking mind, honestly,’ I reply. Opening up a little.
She smiles, taking a sip of her coffee. I bite my bottom lip, clenching my hand around the handle of the coffee cup.
‘Well, you can always get a real job, like mine,’ she jokes – misunderstanding my comment – with a wry smile that lets me know she doesn’t really mean it.
Still, it’s hard to avoid the twinge that comes with it, because she doesn’t not mean it.
Alison works as a junior publicist at a PR agency.
And I know she thinks her career choices are much more sensible than mine.
‘But it’ll be a lot less fun than kissing Avi Kumar,’ she jokes, softening the blow a little.
‘Right, right,’ I say, keeping my tone light to cover the emotions underneath.
‘I’m a little worried about this one, Ally,’ I admit quietly.
And, in the next second, I almost start to tell her the full truth about what happened with Avi.
It’s on the tip of my tongue. To ask what she thinks I should do.
Because she’s wise. She knows how to deal with people. She’d probably have some good advice.
‘Oh, stop worrying,’ she says, cutting in. ‘Honestly, you worry too much. Always making things into problems when they aren’t.’
I find myself taking a deep breath. Because what she’s saying isn’t entirely true.
I worry appropriately about a career she doesn’t approve of or understand.
And, in any case, her perspective couldn’t be further from mine, because her superpower is that she doesn’t worry about anything in her life.
She’s blue skies and sunshine, all the time.
Great job, great apartment, great dating life.
Everything is always great. When we were kids too – from school to school, she was fine.
Always getting the best grades. Always making the most friends. She never had any issues.
But I wasn’t so lucky, so blessed with her natural charm.
And this was what got me through it – all the school changes and the failed attempts to make friends.
All the tense late-night conversations I overheard between my parents.
None of it mattered, because I had this: the idea that one day I might be able to turn my dream of acting into a reality.
Might be able to take everything I secretly hoped for and finally make it come good.
I wish Alison could understand what this means to me.
Why I’m so scared. But, as usual, she’s ignoring my negative feelings and steering me right back to the positive.
To her territory, where nothing is ever wrong.
Where if anything in my life is going sideways, it’s my fault entirely.
‘This is the opportunity of your life,’ she continues. ‘You’ve basically put your life on hold for the last five years and now all your work might finally become something viable. The least you can do is enjoy it.’
I smile, covering my feelings.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ I concede. Because she is. I just wish she’d hear me a little more.
‘Right,’ she says. ‘Now, can I tell you about this guy I’ve met at work? I think he’d be perfect for you…’