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The final two weeks of work have been, by far, the best days I’ve had at Silver Insurance in a long time; maybe ever. It’s a lot easier to deal with angry people knowing that very soon, I won’t have to deal with them ever, ever again. Yell at me all you want because next week, you’ll be somebody else’s problem. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying it out loud.
My last day is gorgeous and sunny without a single cloud in the sky, as if the weather gods were celebrating with me. I walk away from Silver with my cliché but entirely necessary brown box, feeling oddly sad. At the same time, a huge burden lifts from my shoulders. I close my eyes, tilt my face towards the sun, and turn around for one last look at the building. The drama surrounding my quick and mysterious exit will fuel office gossip for weeks if not months. It’s a miracle my secret stayed a secret as long as it did, but word eventually got out and when it did, the first person to let me know was Angela.
“So, are you going off to be a model now?” She caught me outside, reading on my second to last lunch break. The material of her navy blazer strained against the red buttons wrestling with her mid-section, but unlike her, I’m not cruel enough to passively aggressively point it out.
“Uh, no...” I said, shaking my head, slowly wondering why she would think modeling.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s too bad. I heard about that modeling school thing, and I thought for sure that’s why you put in notice,” she said, flashing a not so sorry smile in my direction and tapping one of her expensive, pointy-toed, red pumps on the concrete. All too happy to supply the information, she continued, “I ran into your friend Tessa, the one from Sarah’s party. She told me.”
Tessa? Why? When? My mind swam with questions, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of asking. I decided to tell her the truth. “I’m actually interested in pursuing acting. I’m winging it, but at least I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, but I was already walking away.
It didn’t take long to learn that the best part about being unemployed is sleeping in. And pajamas. I have a new routine. I wake up sans alarm, drink coffee, and apply to jobs, which is a job in itself. Strong organizational skills, ability to handle a heavy workload...sigh. Where does that get me? Updating my resume has revealed my place in the job market; the bottom, which is exactly why I was so reluctant to look elsewhere in the first place. I’m basically starting over. It’s like four years of my life got sucked into a vacuum; just like my seven year relationship. It seems the only thing I’m accomplished at thus far is wasting time and running in place for years on end.
I was smart enough to sign up for a 401k to get the company match and stayed long enough to be fully vested, so at least I won’t walk away from Silver completely empty handed. I had plenty of vacation to cash out on, which buys me some extra time before money totally runs out, but I don’t know what happens after that. In the meantime, I have plenty of time to focus on my goals. I have goals?
After sending job applications, I exercise. I still run, but I can also bring the gym to me just by pressing play on my DVD player. High intensity interval training is my primary torture of choice, with cardio sculpt and power yoga in between. Pushing my body to the limit gives me a sense of accomplishment I’ve not felt since my old gymnastics days. My heart pounds, sweat drips into my eyes, and my muscles tremble. Oxygen moves from my lungs into my bloodstream, but I’m still gasping for breath because the workouts are that hard. If I don’t feel like I’ve been hit by a truck after my post work out shower, I’m not sure I did it right. As my physical strength grows, so does my confidence.
Without a job tethered around my neck like a noose, an unexpected halo of light has materialized and lit a fire inside of me. I was so caught up in what I couldn’t do that I conjured up all kinds of elaborate fantasies in my head, but never fully subscribed to possibility until now. It’s really weird how one day you’re just living your life from one day to the next without direction or purpose, and the next day, you’re driven by something bigger than yourself that you don’t even recognize. It’s as exhilarating as it is scary to be this vulnerable. To actively pursue something means you have to admit you want it. I like pretending I don’t care about things, but I realize now that caring is essential to the process. I have to acknowledge it. I want to be successful. I want to be an actress. Now I know exactly what it means to catch the acting bug. Once you get it, the desire is overwhelming and the only cure is success or complete and utter failure.
Even though I told the girls it isn’t realistic, I want to be part of Agency Day. I’ll be good. They’ll like me. I won’t feel worthless. My life will get better. There is nothing else. I’ve latched onto this thing as the one thing that is going to change my life. My stomach does flip flops every time I think about what winning that acting scholarship would mean for me. Every sore muscle, every night I go to bed dreaming of pizza and every night I stay up late memorizing lines is another day closer to being the kind of me I want to be. Chloe Dillon was a Band-Aid holding me together with a false sense of well-being, but I want this to be real.
I make my way down the dark, narrow hallway and up the creaky stairs. Earl’s acting class is held downtown in a walk up, storefront building in a cluttered space with dusty hardwood floors, industrial sized pipes in the high ceilings, and a perpetual draft that sweeps the room. Southern California is in the middle of a hot dry Santa Ana, but I can’t wear shorts here or else I’d freeze. I take a seat in one of the hard metal fold up chairs arranged in rows in front of the small wooden stage.
I love this place. The class is three hours long, twice a week, and way more intense than Chloe Dillon’s. Everyone is in their twenties or older. Nobody gets dressed up for class or comes in overly made up. It’s not about how we look here. The only thing that matters is how we act and when I tell Earl I’m worried about being too old to do this, he says don’t worry about being old, worry about being good. Hollywood would have you believe that you have to be young and look like a super model to be an actress. Sure, it helps, but there are all kinds of roles that need to be played. According to Earl, if you have the acting chops, you have a chance. No one in his class skates by on good looks.
When Laney walks in and takes a seat in the row ahead of me, I smile at her. I’m kind of in awe because she’s a “real” actress. She’s not famous or even exceptionally beautiful, but she has a great figure and a gorgeous mane of auburn hair which complements her pale skin, and large hazel eyes that occupy half her face. She books acting work and splits her time between San Diego and LA. She’s a card carrying member of the Screen Actors Guild and has been a student of Earl’s for one year. I overheard her talking about gearing up for her third pilot season last week. I looked it up that minute on my phone and discovered that it’s the stretch of time in Hollywood when they cast for new TV shows in development. Apparently, it’s a really big deal.
I take out my sides as the rest of the class trickles in. A few minutes later, we hear Earl before we see him.
“Are you ready? Are you hungry?” he shouts into the room as he walks to the front of the class with an exaggerated grin on his face, rubbing his hands together.
I am hungrier than I’ve ever been in my life. Both literally and physically. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m not afraid of a slight hunger in the pit of my belly. I don’t need to be shoving chips into my mouth every day. It reminds me that I can be strong and that even with everything in my life that’s spiraled out of control, I’m fighting back and I’m taking action.
“Laney, you’re up. And...let’s see. We’ll have you read with Ryan. Up you go,” he says as he heads towards the giant video camera set up on a tri pod at the back of the room. “Remember, relationship, relationship, relationship! What are they to each other? What do they want?”
My stomach wells with envy as Laney runs through the scene with Ryan with such a natural ease, I can picture her on my TV screen. She makes it look so simple, but after Chloe Dillon plus intense classes here, I know it’s not. So much goes into bringing a character to life and it’s been really helpful for me to watch a real actress in action. Ryan is holding his own okay, but I can tell he’s a little nervous. A light sheen of sweat breaks out on his forehead and I detect a slight shake in his hands as he gestures. Laney and Ryan stare silently at each other. Ryan has dropped a line and Laney signals him with her eyes, but neither one breaks character. If there is one thing we learn early on in Earl’s class, it’s that upon pain of death you should never, ever, ever break character. It’s the kiss of death and he’s kicked people out of class for it. They finish out the scene and immediately face forward to await Earl’s reaction.
“Laney, I needed you to show a little more anger on that last line. You’re there. Ryan, what was that? We’ve gone over this correction before. Tell me.”
“I need to slow down...right?”
“Yes! Do you talk like that in real life?” He asks with exaggerated speed running the words together so that they’re barely recognizable. “No! So don’t do it in front of the camera. I don’t feel the words that are coming out of your mouth. Give me more. Much more. Lexi and Eric. You’re up.”
Another slam dunk for Laney. She usually gets the least amount of criticism from Earl out of everyone in the class.
I put my sides down and take my place across from Eric on the small stage. I still haven’t quite figured out if it’s good or bad to be paired with someone a lot better than me. A really strong actor is capable of stealing the show and making me look worse, but a weaker actor can make the scene a total disaster if someone doesn’t command the scene to keep momentum going. I overheard him telling Laney that he’s not getting the big roles he wants and is thinking about switching agents when his contract is up. I can’t imagine why not. He definitely has leading man looks with his smooth complexion, dark brown eyes rimmed in thick lashes and strong square jaw. And he’s really good; way better than I am and probably a very close second to Laney.
Earl’s lips are pursed, and his eyes wild with expectation.
I turn to Eric, take a beat then start out the scene with my line.
PATRICIA
I’m not really sure what happened. One minute, I was having a drink and the next, I was in a completely different place and we were all alone.
JAMES
You really need to be more careful. How many times do I have to tell you not to be so trusting?
PATRICIA sighs and turns slightly away from JAMES.
The pace of my words feels just right and I’ve worked really hard at not over-acting. That was my biggest criticism coming into the class from Earl. He kept telling me to be more giving in the scene, making me think I needed to do more only to have him yell at me and bang his fist on the wall. It’s the same thing he always yelled at Tessa for. It’s a delicate balance between acting and not acting enough. The scene between Patricia and James turns ugly, culminating in name calling and cursing. At the end of it all, Patricia is reduced to a sobbing mess of tears and anger. I fold inwardly upon myself to that place where I am no longer me, allowing myself to be swept away by her despair and emotions. It’s pretend, but real and so thrilling, I realize again why I want to do this. Actors are so powerful in the way they bring words on a page to life and make an emotional impact. Eric says his last word, and I’m glad to have made it through the scene without fudging a single line.
I glance nervously at Eric and wipe at my wet eyes with the back of my hand. We wait in silence for Earl’s response. His words carry the weight of gold. We all desperately want his stamp of approval because once we’ve got it, we know we’re good enough to be seen and maybe even make a splash in front of casting directors and agents.
“Fine. Let’s have Jay and Taylor up next.”
Laney’s sculpted eyebrows jut upwards in surprise. Eric and I look at each other in stunned silence. No critique. I’m probably more stunned than Eric because I actually held my own in a scene opposite a guy with an agent who gets acting jobs. We both know that when we get to monologues, we might have him pounding his fists and pacing again, but in that scene for those three and a half minutes, we were good enough for “fine” and I’m that much closer to my goal. Maybe quitting my job isn’t the most stupid and irresponsible thing I’ve ever done after all. Okay, it definitely is, but maybe it’ll turn out okay anyway.
