25. Anna
ANNA
The script is open on the kitchen counter.
Luke has the sides memorized. His problem is finding the truth underneath the words, and that's what we've been working on all morning.
The scene is a hotel room. His character and Rebecca's character, the night he tells her he loves her. The writing is good. Painful in the specific way good writing is painful.
I read Rebecca's lines. She's Marilyn. He's Chris.
"I'm coming with you," I read.
"You can't, Chris. My husband is a dangerous man."
"I don't care. I can't live without you," Luke reads.
"Don't say that. You have to forget me."
"I can't. I tried and I keep coming back here, to you."
I stop the scene. "This is where it says you take her in your arms and kiss her like you've never kissed anyone before. Because it could be the last time."
Luke kisses me. Deeply. My body responds.
"Is that what you're going to do?"
"No. Not exactly like that. But that's the idea."
I look at him. "That's the idea?"
"What?"
Is he thinking of her when he's kissing me?
"Well, that's enough for today. You got it."
"Yeah. Thanks. We'll run it again later if that's okay."
I close the script.
"Thank you," he says.
"Go learn your next scene," I say.
I leave the script on the couch for him.
"I'm going out with some friends."
"Okay. I need to work on the dialect."
Jade picks the place. A lunch spot in West Hollywood with outdoor seating.
Priya is already there when we arrive.
We order. Jade is one of those people who eats whatever she wants. I don't ask how.
I tell them about the commercial booking. They're excited for me — neither has shot a national commercial. They conclude it's because I have a great body and look like the girl next door.
I take it as a compliment.
The conversation moves the way it always does with these two. TV shows. Movies. The business.
A director Jade worked with last year. An actor Priya knows who is quietly losing his mind over a bad review. A couple in the industry whose marriage is apparently held together entirely by their publicist.
"She told me herself," Priya says. "At a party. Three drinks in. She said I haven't loved him in two years."
"That's so sad," Jade says.
"That's so Hollywood," I say.
The food comes. We eat.
At some point Priya asks. "Are you going to Morocco?"
I reach for my water.
"Yeah. Delia doesn't want me to go, but I'm going."
"You have to introduce me to her."
"I keep forgetting — let me do it right now." I text Delia on the spot.
"Delia's not wrong," Jade says.
"Delia's never wrong," Priya says. "That's the problem."
"Not to mention there'll be nothing for you to do while he's working sixteen-hour days," Jade says.
"True."
They look at each other the way they do when they've already talked about something without me.
"What?" I say.
"Nothing," Jade says.
I drink my water.
"I'll be fine," I say.
The breadbasket comes back around. I take a piece. Priya watches me.
"You okay?" she says.
"I'm great," I say.
I eat the bread.
They leave. I stay behind because I don't feel good. I go to the bathroom. I throw up.
I sit on the edge of the toilet for a minute.
I'm not going to Morocco.
I text Joe. Not going to make it tonight. Sorry.
Chloe comes over after class. She knows not to ask why I skipped.
Zeke peed at my feet because I forgot to take him out.
We take the long route through the hills. Zeke out front like he's leading an expedition. The city full in the dark.
We walk for a while without saying anything.
"You didn't tell him," Chloe says.
"I can't."
"He leaves in four days."
We walk.
"I don't know how he's going to take this. And if it's not good, it could really screw this up for him mentally. He needs to focus. It's not fair to do that to him right now. This is his shot. I'm not going to jeopardize that."
Chloe is quiet.
"Well he's going to see you getting bigger."
"I'm not going to Morocco."
"You're not?"
"I can't. If I throw up around him, he'll know."
"Does he know that?"
"Not yet."
"And if he doesn't come back?"
"He has to come back,” I say.
"Yeah. But not the same person. Six months is a long time. They come back different."
"How do you know?"
"Hey, fuck you!" Chloe says.
Zeke circles back to us, tail going, checking we're still there.
We finish the loop and come back to the house.
"He'll come back," I say. "He has to."
"I didn't want to say this," Chloe says.
"Don't."
"I'm your friend. I have to." A beat. "This is about your father."
I don't say anything.
She hugs me at the gate, long and tight, the way she hugs me when she doesn't have anything useful left to say.
She drives away.
I stand in the driveway with Zeke.
My phone rings.
Mom.
I look at it for one ring. Two.
I answer.
"Hey Mom."
"Hi honey. Just checking in. How are you?"
I look at the city below me. The lights coming on as the sun goes down. Los Angeles doing what it always does, enormous and indifferent and blazing.
"I'm good," I say. "Everything's good."
"You sound tired."
"Long day. I'm fine."
"How's Luke?"
"I booked a commercial, Mom."
"Good for you."
"Yeah. Thirty-five thousand dollars."
"Wow. That's great."
Zeke leans against my leg. He wants to go in.
I put my hand on his head.
She tells me about the office. The weather in Montana is beautiful right now. She might repaint the kitchen.
I listen to every word.
I don't say anything.
When we hang up, I stand there for a long time in the driveway. Everything I'm not saying sitting in my chest like something with weight.
Zeke looks up at me.
We go inside.
I get in bed.
"Luke, I talked to Delia, and she doesn't think I can come to Morocco."
"At all."
"I'll see, but she's adamant about it. And she's right, taking time off now would be bad."
"I thought you wanted to come."
"It's my career. I'm getting stuff every day now."
"I understand," he says.
And that makes it worse.