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Aug 29, 2013

People Aren’t Always What They Seem

Since I had to go back and read this again since I am thinking about using it for my senior seminar I thought I would post it here as well. I actually really enjoyed writing this piece and the other connected story that I'll probably post later

The curtain rises in the middle of the scene, one I happen to be staring in. Deep breaths, I can act this out, no pressure.

“You’re right,” I say the line perfectly, it’s cold as well as perfectly calm, though my throat is scratchy and it hurts to talk, “that word should be in the past tense. I admired you.” My co-star is a wonderful actor; his eyes darken from a soft gray, much like kittens fur, to storm cloud gray. He takes a step forward, but there is still the chair between us. The chair must have cost the prop department a good deal of their budget. It’s some dark wood with emerald green upholstery and swirls carved into the arm rests. Much like everything else on this set is speaks to refinement as well as comfort.

“Listen you ugly little bitch,” spit flies from his mouth and I wince away, something the audience will definitely appreciate, “if you tell anyone-”

“You’ll what?” Again I hit the proper tone, almost bored sounding, like a woman who is completely in control. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m also not going to drop your class.” My own feelings conflict with the characters on this point. Any normal person would not go back to the lair of a Professor who just proposed having sex after they turned him down, but this character is a woman who will not be daunted. To be a good actress you must do two things, say your lines convincingly with the proper emotion and understand your character. I have never been able to get the second part, but it would seem that I finally figured it out in this scene, under these conditions.

Time for my exit. I grab my purse from the floor beside the chair where I put it when I entered the scene. The stage directions are vague here, it says to leave, but I shouldn’t turn my back on a man who just showed so much anger towards me. Who knows what a man in his situation would do? My character however wouldn’t show fear by walking backwards.

“Where are you going?” How he says the line surprises me. There isn’t anger, but more weariness.

“Home, I believe we are finished here. See you on Monday Professor.” I look behind me to see that he isn’t even watching me, but looking at his worn shoes. I’d never noticed that even though he dresses in rather high end clothes his shoes were so worn. Character quirk? He is a murderer after all. I reach out and take the golden handle to the office door, turning it quickly. My character is supposed to be calm, but I am unraveling at the seams. I need to get out off stage. I fling the door open and with the little bit of restraint I have left I close it quickly behind me. I‘m plunged into darkness.

“Nice job,” Reilly, the stage manager, says with a smile as I walk into the right wing of the stage. I return the smile, but I’m out of breath. Reilly is the magician behind the scenes, making sure the all the props are in the right place and that actors are in the right wings. All departments check into him if there are delays or issues. He isn‘t part of our class, but was recruited to help with the production. He was one of those people you couldn‘t help but like, nice and sweet.

“I had ruined everything. My life, my acting career and now probably my teaching career, but wasn’t that what I wanted in the first place? Hadn‘t it been what I wanted since the first Amber?” The monologue of my co-star floats to my ears, but I try and ignore it. His voice is a calming tenor that could easily lull you to sleep. “It had been almost five years since that Amber had walked into my classroom, smiling and nervous. I should have known the present Amber wouldn‘t be taken in so easily, but I hadn‘t been able to help myself.” I couldn’t listen to this; I had to prep for my next scene. I have to go and look over my lines and redo my makeup, change, and about three hundred other things.

“Oh, for the love of God.” Reilly mumbles as he presses his headset closer to his ear.

“What?” I whisper knowing my voice could easily carry out onto stage.

“Madison.” He rolls his eyes and cocks his head still listening to the headset. Madison had become synonymous with swear words for almost everyone associated with the play since the first day of rehearsal. She had the lead actress attitude without the talent to back it up and wouldn’t even have the lead role if Sage hadn’t turned it down, asking instead to be the best friend. The first day of the semester Madison told me a history major had no business being in a Performing Arts class. She then proceeded to tell Vivian, loud enough that everyone in the class could clearly hear her, that I was a terrible at acting in introduction to theater arts and she had no idea why I thought I could make the grade in a class all about performance. She was right about the acting, but that didn’t stop me from hating her. No, hate is a strong word, but I very much dislike her.

“She’s complaining about her costume again.” Reilly says shaking his head. Costume, something that I should be changing into right now for my next scene. I’m only an extra, but I obviously can’t wear the same clothes.

“Don’t worry,” I pat Reilly on the shoulder as I pass, “there is no way in hell she’ll miss her entrance. She’s the lead actress after all.” I try to mimic her voice and infliction for the last sentence, but fail. Reilly chuckles though so he got the point. I exit the auditorium through the side stage door and start to make my way to the dressing rooms. It was so nice not being in the damp basement where we had our class. I’m pretty sure we are all going to die from some sort of bacteria that is growing down there. I skip down the stairs and turn the corner, almost slamming into Danica who is running up them.

“Watch it!” was the only greeting before she darts up the stairs and to the stage door. I continue to the door constantly reminding myself that I don’t have time to run after her and smack her across the face. I don’t have the balls to do it anyway, but the image cheers me up. I didn’t get along with a lot of the people in class, mostly because I didn’t have the same passion for acting they did. I have no want or desire to be on Broadway or the next big thing in Hollywood. I was in this class because I felt like after intro to theater arts I had to prove myself. I felt like I lost, and I really hate losing. Guess being the youngest of five and the only girl will do that to you.

“You’re running late.” Sage says as soon as I open the door. She didn’t take her eyes off the mirror as she arranges her hair. I’m glad she doesn’t look over. Her eyes are terrifying and beautiful at the same time, but I felt like a mouse caught by a cat whenever she looked at me. They were this weird green color that was pale and at the same time almost glowed.

I duck behind the folding screen and start changing, cursing my sweaty legs as I try to tug on jeans. The stage lights are unbearable and I’m nervous. I probably smell awful. Need to find body spray. I don’t have lines in the next scene, but I have to remember my stage directions, which is worse. I can memorize the dates to almost every war ever fought, but couldn’t remember where to stand.

“Don’t forget to do something with your hair.” Sage calls. Shit, I had forgotten that I have to take it down. At the beginning of the semester I would have wondered how Sage knew I‘d forgotten; now I just accept it like I accept that there’s a God and unicorns don’t exist. I first thought she was a ghost when she materialized at my side and told me we were going to be acting partners the first day of class. Told, not asked. I have revised my theory to she practices some sort of witch craft. I like her though and I’m the only person she seems to tolerate.

“I know!” I say poking my head around the screen to yell at her. The room is empty and the door shut. Ghost, she has to be a ghost. I finish changing and go over to the mirror tearing the ponytail out of my hair, ouch, and pulling the brush through it quickly, ouch. Eyeliner needs fixed too. I push things haphazardly around the dressing table finally finding it under Sage‘s blush.

“Next scene three minutes.” A voice calls and raps on my door which leads me to run eyeliner from the corner of my eye to my ear. Shit, damn, shit!

“Jackie!” I scream as I run to the door. Jackie wasn’t part in our class either, but like Reilly had agreed to help us out with the performance. Jackie was our hair and makeup girl and since I have no talent in either field she wasn’t very fond of me.

“What did you do?” she pushes me back into the chair in front of the mirror and starts attacking my face with a makeup removal pad. Where did she get that from?

“Someone startled me.” She has to be ripping the skin off my face. I’ll be bleeding when I go on stage. Who needs skin?

“You should’ve called me in the first place,” she mumbles more after this, but I tune it out. She tosses the removal pad on the table and takes up the eyeliner. She leans in and starts her work, I concentrate on anything but the fact that she could easily make me blind. She smells of sweat, coconut, and chocolate. What she was doing before I saw her?

“Done.” Jackie says and I rocket out of my chair and down the hall. I feel bad for not thanking her. I don’t have time.

“Whoa,” Aaron says jumping to his right as I round the corner and fly up the stairs.

“My bad,” I have no idea if he heard me, but I get to the wing just in time to see the end of the current scene. Madison and James were finishing up the first meeting between the young Professor and Amber number one. The next scene is Madison and Sage talking over the meeting while the rest of us mill around trying to look like college kids. Not hard, but in practice I always missed my mark and Madison runs into me. I admit I did it a few times just to give Madison a good shove, but most of the time I’m mortified that I can’t find my spot. I’m going to do it right, I have to. The lights fade on the scene and I follow Vivian and Daniel out onto the dark stage.

“You know where to go,” Daniel whispers into my ear as we position ourselves around a fake tree.

“Yes.” Kind of, not really, god why can’t I remember this!

“Just stay a half a step to my right and you’ll be fine.” Daniel and James are the only two guys in the class that don’t remind me of chiwawas. The others just sit there, doing nothing and never shut the hell up. If only they were small enough to putt.

“Kim!” Madison runs to greet Sage/Kim who is center stage. I fake laugh and take a look out to the audience to see a good number of shadow figures beyond the glare of the lights, surprising. Professor Wesley wrote the play so I figured we would get a measly turn out. Though I guess when the plot line revolves around a Drama professor who murders a student he gets pregnant and the actual Drama professor is one of the actors would peak interest. There are actually two story lines running, the Madison/Amber who get killed and my Amber who brings all this up in the Professors mind. I act opposite to Professor Wesley, but try not to think about it on stage so I don’t freak myself out. He has been in Hollywood movies and productions in England, I can’t get my stage cues right.

“Half a step,” Daniel whispers as we start across the stage. I keep eyeing the distance to make sure that I close enough to Daniel. I’m going to do this right. Madison doesn’t run into me while she walks backwards still talking with Sage.

“Isn’t that awesome? He says I have real talent!” Madison says, over exaggerating her laugh, as usual.

“I say you have talent all the time,” Sage says with an eye roll. I love watching Sage act because everything she does is in character. The audience couldn’t see the eye roll, but it’s what a best friend would do. Her face is so animated that if it wasn’t for her eyes I could easily think she was a completely different person. Sometimes I think Sage doesn’t have any emotions of her own so she can use all of what the character if feeling on stage. Or she’s a ghost that pulls on her pervious life, still haven’t decided.

“But this is different.” Madison says with a more realistic laugh as she goes off stage and the stage goes dark. It’s supposed to be a fade; obviously Reilly is going to be yelling at someone. I try not to whimper. The first time I was on stage when the lights went out I screamed. I get this feeling as if the floor just disappears from underneath me and at the same time something is about to reach out and grab me. I’ve never been afraid of the dark before. I jump when something touches my arm, knowing it’s probably Daniel leading me off stage.

“Thanks,” I feel like a child now that we are out in the hallway, lights blazing away. Daniel had been the only one during the semester who had noticed my issue with black outs and had offered to help me off stage if he was in the scene. I have no idea why he is so nice to me, but I actively avoid thinking about it. The root of all disappointment is expectations, as my Grandmother always says.

“No problem.” Off he goes to his dressing room. I’m not back on stage until the very last scene so I’ve got time on my hands. I open the door to the dressing room that I share with Sage and turn on the floor lamp in the corner. I prefer the soft light to the harshness of the fluorescents over the makeup mirrors. I grab my script and start flipping through it. The whole middle of the play is flashback with Professor Wesley narrating over it at times. Madison’s character falls in love with the Professor, though her friend Sage tries to stop her, ends up getting pregnant by him and he kills her. I’m not in the scene when Madison is killed unfortunately. When we were rehearsing watching Madison get chocked to death was usually the highlight of my day. I’m a little worried in the sheer pleasure I get in seeing her strangled to death. There is not enough time to be thinking about that, no matter how cheering it is.

I turn back to the script and read over my lines one more time. I am going to get it right, I have to! I recite my lines a few more times, but I can’t focus on them. I lean back in my chair and sigh. I know the words by heart, memorization was easy enough, it’s the emotions that I have an issue with. I get so flustered or nervous that I forget everything. In class I’d been amazing at improv because I just had to react. There was no right or wrong, which took all the pressure off.

“Amanda?” I jump up, almost knocking over my chair.

“Professor,” I’m so happy I didn’t scream.

“We are co-stars, you can call me Michael.” No, I really can’t. That would mean that we are equals which we aren‘t. Shouldn’t you be up watching everyone else perform to grade them? This is our final grade. Isn’t there are narration but coming up? Why are you down here, talking to me?

“Did you need something?” I can’t see his face due to the shadows from having only the floor lamp on. The way the shadows fall is eerie, I can only see his neck and body, like a killer in a crappy reenactments on the history channel. I turn on the lights over the mirror. They flicker for a moment before coming on.

“Just wanted to make sure you are ready for the final scene. I know you’re going to do fine, but do you want to go over the lines real quick?”

“No I’ve got it,” I say smiling and waving my script. He looks at me for a few more seconds and I almost tell him to stay. He has been so helpful to me over the school year, but I feel like asking for his help now would be admitting that I can‘t do it on my own. I won’t lose again.

“Alright, well I’ll be in the right wing if you need me.” I’ve never seen anyone close a door so slowly! I collapse back into my chair and take a few deep breaths. This is why I can’t think of him as Professor Wesley when we are acting. I feel like I am going to have a heart attack whenever I talk to him. It isn’t because he‘s hot, I mean he is really hot, but because he is so…charismatic? That isn’t the right word, but it’s as close as I can get. He just has this aura that makes people want to be around him. That makes me want to be around him. Any other professor in my introduction to theater arts class and I would have said screw it and not taken performing arts.

I can’t sit still, the room feels like it is caving in on me, I have to get up and walk around. I walk out to the hallway connecting the two wings and do half asses stretches trying to shake my uneasiness. I’m just nervous.

“Hey,” I look up to see Reilly popping his head out of the left wing door. He motions me over. Madison and James are being lovely dovey on stage, poor James.

“Look at the front row,” Reilly says pointing, “The guy front and center is Max Terry. He’s a huge Hollywood producer. Professor Wesley probably asked him to come to see if he wants to make a movie out of the play or something. Isn’t that cool?” I squint against the lights but all the black outlines look the same to me. A Hollywood producer huh? Well that isn’t any more pressure or anything.

“Yeah awesome,” I say then start walking back to my dressing room. Something about a producer being here bothers me. Why? Doesn’t matter, I need to get back to looking over the script. I turn the corner and see Jackie standing there.

“Time to get ready.” Oh joy.

The lights rise on the stage as the extras pretend to be leaving class. The lights are blinding and hot and I can’t take a deep breath.

“Miss Hayes can I speak with you?” Glare, good. Now walk over with confidence. My heels where not this loud in practice. God, I smell awful.

“What Professor?” That was a pretty confident tone.

“I was out of line yesterday Amber. I’m older and should never have done something like that. I wanted to apologize on some way though it isn‘t going to fix anything.” My co-star fishes in his pocket and pulls out something. I hold out my hand and he drops the locket he ripped off the original Amber corpse, though my character doesn’t know that. I look down, like I’m supposed to, but in my hand isn’t the stage prop. It was still silver so the audience probably couldn’t tell the difference, but this was much more expensive. It was a heart with a rose winding around it. I turn it over; my hands are so sweaty I’m going to drop it. I blink, and then blink again. The name on the locket wasn’t Amber Hayes, but Amanda Bowers.

“This is my name?” That’s not my line. Uneasiness rises in my stomach, but I push it away. I can’t think about that right now, I have to get these lines right.

“An old friend of mine left it with me, I want you to have it.” That’s his line. Alright, keep it together.

“She had the same exact name?” My laugh is awkward, not carefree like the script calls for. I have no idea what is going.

“What a coincidence, right?” The Professor says and his laugh is care free. I look down at the locket.

“I can’t accept this,” I hold it back out to him. That’s the line right? Oh hell, close enough.

“Please, I feel as if I need to do something. It has been kicking around my house for year, just take it.” His hand reaches out and closes my fingers around the locket. Why are his hands so cold? It has to be ninety degrees up here. Oh shit, it’s my line. What is it? No idea, make something up!

“It will probably sell for at least sixty. If you don’t want it I guess I can just pawn it. A hand me down gift for an apology is really rude, don‘t you think?” Nothing like the script, but same feeling is conveyed. I think.

“I would rather you keep it,” he takes a step forward and his cologne hits me. It’s smothering and almost sickly sweet. God, it’s awful.

“Why should I give a damn about what you want?”

“I have no right to say anything, but we were friends right? Just keep it as a reminder that people aren’t always what they seem.” He inches closer and I can feel his breath on my face. I’m going to start hyperventilating. I remember my lines!

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you? You’re lucky it’s pretty.” I take a step back. I get it unclasped though my hands are drenched and put in on, the cold stone almost making me jump when it touches my skin.

“Goodbye Professor.” I spin and walk off stage right when the last words of the play float to my ears.

“See you soon, Amber.” Everything goes black.

“You alright?” Reilly asks. I’m doubled over trying to get air into my lungs.

“What was that? Can’t you even remember the few lines you have?” Madison screeches.

“Fuck off.” I straighten and going out to take the final bow. The whole auditorium is on their feet, standing ovation. I guess everyone passes.

I need to change. I look down, apparently I did change. When? Where is Sage? Okay, Deep breath. I need to get my thoughts in order. A soft knock comes to the door.

“Amanda, are you changed?” Oh god, why is he here. Say no.

“Yeah,” Idiot!

“Reilly said you were acting weird. Everything alright?” The Professor walks in, hands deep in his pockets and a giant smile on his face. Why hadn’t he come down right away? Probably because he was talking to his producer friend. Then it all fell into place. How hadn’t I seen it before?

“You didn’t think I could act it out properly that’s why you switched props!” I want to punch him, or scream. All that talk about me improving and how he wasn’t worried was complete shit.

“You’re much better at improv. I knew you were nervous and thought it would help.”

“You’re so full of shit.” He is just making more upset with that hurt look on his face. It’s so fake! How has he made it as an actor? God, why didn’t I see what a snake he was before. It had nothing to do with helping me, but the fact that his producer friend was in the front row. Oh, god! He used the whole class.

“Amanda listen,” he walks forward and I take a few steps backward. His expression changes, maybe mine has too. “Are you afraid of me?” A little. Maybe a lot. I just need to think this through and I there is no time at the moment.

“No…Just leave would you?” I feel the pendent against my chest. “And take this.” I reach up and start undoing the clasp.

“What am I going to do with it? It has your name on it, might as well keep it. Think of it as an apology.” How low is it to buy an apology gift before the other person even knows you’re doing something wrong? The Professor doesn’t move, just stands there and looked at me with this odd expression in his eyes.

“Professor.” Sage is standing in the doorway.

“Miss Harris. Wonderful job this evening.” The Professor smiles at her, but she just watches him. I always expect really dramatic fight music to start whenever Sage and the Professor are within ten feet of one another. There is always this tension, this expectation for something to happen.

“Well, I’ll let you change.” That’s it? I tell him to leave and he walks further into the room, Sage shows up and he almost runs out the door. Sage closes the door and turns her cat eyes on me.

“He used us.” I feel as if I need to explain myself when she looks at me.

“You just figured that out?” Sage asks as she strips off her shirt and goes behind the changing screen. If I didn’t know better I would have thought she was relieved to hear that was my problem.

“You knew?”

“Why else would he let us put on his production if there wasn’t something in it for him?” I really feel like an idiot. I sit back down and drop my head into my hands. Everyone probably figured out except for me.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Sage says from behind the screen. “It was a good opportunity for all of us. A Hollywood producer just watched us perform.” I don’t give a rat ass about a producer. I thought that he had faith in us to do his play well. I thought he had faith in me to do the play well. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“You aren’t stupid, just naive, though there isn’t much of a difference when I think about it.” Sage says coming around the corner. Surprisingly, I don’t feel better.

“It wasn’t supposed to make you feel better it’s just the facts. If you want to get to the cast party you should get going.” Sage walks over and pats me lightly on the shoulder. This is the most affectionate thing I have ever seen her do to anyone. That mixed with the fact that she literally just read my mind kind of freaks me out.

“What took you so long to come down?” I say trying to be normal.

“Reilly wanted to talk to me about something.” I blink a few times, but decide to just let it go. I’m too tired and drained to try and figure out Sage. It would probably be hopeless anyway. We walk out through the auditorium because it is closer to the parking lot where Sage is parked and where the bus picks me up. A few people still linger but most have moved out to the lobby or already left. Professor Wesley is talking with Dean Farris in front of the stage and I go to take the far side aisle. I’ll avoid him completely.

“Miss Harris, Miss Bower, could you come here please?” I hate him. I sense more than see Sage turn and walk over. How rude would it be for me to just keep walking? Pretty rude. Damn. I join them. Dean Farris is praising Sage’s acting; I look anywhere but at Professor Wesley.

“And you,” Dean Farris says turning towards me, “you were wonderful.”

“Really?” My brain isn‘t processing this fully.

“Yes! When you were on stage I felt as if I was watching something in real life, not in a play. You weren’t exaggerating your actions too much like some of the other performers. You’re a great actress.” Wait…what? I turn to look at Sage, but she just shrugs. I turn back to the Dean. I’m suppose so say something polite here.

“Amanda really bloomed this semester. She has made the most improvement over anyone in class.” Professor Wesley puts his hand on my shoulder, I tense. Look happy, just for a few seconds look happy.

“That’s so wonderful! I hope to see you in some of our other productions.” The Dean says with a bright smile. I nod and slip out from under the Professor’s hand. Over my dead body.

“Thank you for coming,” I turn and start walking up the aisle, shaking from anger. No matter how Sage tries to say it was a good thing I feel used. I sense Sage is following me though I can‘t hear her, she hardly ever makes any sound when she walks.

“You’re lucky it is the end of the semester. You’d explode if you had to go into class again.” she says as she comes beside me, but then stops and turns to look at me.

“What?” I have never seen her eyes so intent on something, so close to showing emotion.

“That’s the stage prop” Her eyes are on my throat, maybe she’s a vampire. Have I never seen her out in the sun?

“Oh, yeah. It actually has my name on it. He switched them out. Don’t want to talk about it. He said I could keep it.” I laugh hoping it will make me feel better. It doesn’t.

“I’ll give you a lift to the after party.” Random much?

“You’ve never offered to give me a ride before.” I also didn’t think she was going to the party. I look at her, but she isn’t looking at me, but over my shoulder.

“I’ve never needed to.” I turn to see that she is staring at Professor Wesley who is talking with Dean Farris. I run my fingers over the cold pendant around my neck. I should give it back especially after the play. God, I was over thinking it. Sure he was an asshole, but the play is just that, a play. Stephen King would have been locked up a long time ago if what people wrote was taken as what they actually did.

“Come on,” Sage gives me a small push out the door. This is the second time she has actually touched me today and before she hasn’t so much as accidentally bumped into me. Maybe she actually does like hanging out with me. That can’t be the only reason. I feel this chill on my neck and turn to see that Professor Wesley is alone by the stage, staring at me. Our eyes meet just as the loud clank of the master stage light switch rings through the auditorium. Everything goes black.

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