Page 81 of Love Scenes

He leaves me alone in his trailer, collapsed onto the blanket his sister made, staring at the picture of his mother.

After a mildexistential crisis, I stifle my confusion and return to set, ready to be not only Elise, but a version of myself who can be in the same room as Joseph Donovan and not feel two seconds away from a full breakdown.

Everyone studies me. The camera crews. My mom. My sister. My brother. Fucking Lucas the woodworking actor, picture wrapped but still here to watch the rest of the night. I want toscream at everyone to go home. Leave us alone and let us work in peace.

It’s now a show within a show for all of them. Personal drama and theatrical drama.

Lucky for me, if there is one thing that has always buoyed me up in the middle of personal tsunamis, it is my pride. I ignore all their inquisitive stares and the long, breathy pauses that come in conversational transitions, each one of them contemplating exactly what’s appropriate to ask.

Am I okay? No.

Is there anything they can do about it? No.

This is all my fault and I know it.

If there is one person on set who is better at this than me, it’s Joseph Donovan, of course. He delivers every line of dialogue word perfect, including theI love you. He kisses my mouth like he really means it, then laughs with cameramen while the shot is being reset.

OnlyInotice that when I am not Elise, I am invisible to him.

So utterly unacknowledged that you’d never, ever know he loves me.

And you’d never know that I don’t hate him either.

21

For the second time in as many days, Joseph and I do not begin our morning with a rehearsal. I walk straight to my trailer instead of his, where there’s not a single personal touch beyond my phone charger. It’s empty, it’s boring, and all I want to do is press my ear to the wall and hear what songs Joseph’s playing.

There is only silence on the other end.

Everything about this project has been wrapped up in the two of us. What I put on when I leave for work. The mood I’m in when I start each day. Where I sit for meals. What I talk about between takes. And I’m supposed to get in front of cameras and explain that?

There’s a gaping hole between Joseph and me now, a gigantic chasm that’s swallowed up all that movie magic and replaced it with hurt. He proved last night he’s a better actor than I am. He can do this. He can make everyone believe nothing is wrong.

This last week isn’t about celebration anymore. It’s about survival.

I lie down on my couch. Put on my headphones. Sip my iced coffee. Listen to my Emotional Pop-Punk Classics of the Early 2000s playlist and prepare myself for the day ahead.

They’ve tucked meinto a far corner of the set. I’m in costume, a forest-green turtleneck and brown pleated skirt, one pearl barrette pinning back the curls on the left side of my head.

An interviewer sits beside a single camera, two studio lights flanking either side, shining on me. “We’re going to start with broad questions here. Be as descriptive as possible without giving away too much plot.”

“You got it.”

When the camera rolls, I’m asked to tell as much about my character as I can. More featurette fodder. They want this to be a little gratuitous and actor-y, which is good. It’s easier to survive when I can be cerebral.

“I play Elise Morgan,” I start, smoothing down my skirt. “She’s a schoolteacher in the 1940s who lives in a small city apartment with her mother, Vera. She lost her father when she was a young teen, and the two women have been inseparable ever since. Their neighbor Calvin used to be their go-to handyman. For Elise, he was also one of the only people who knew what her home life was like. There’s about two years age difference between them, so as she was still growing up, they developed a strong friendship. Then he got drafted into the war, and Elise had to take on all of the jobs he used to do for her and her mother. Now Calvin is back, having been injured, and there’s all this unresolved tension between the two of them. They’re older now. Full adults. But they’ve both changed so much in the years they’ve been apart. Vera can no longer work. Elise has to make ends meet for the both of them. Elise has hardened a lot since Calvin left. She’s not quite ready to let him back in. And he’s got all of hisown baggage too, obviously. They’re both very hurt in different ways.”

There’s a hitch in my breath. Something that feels suspiciously close to tears. I swallow it down, exhaling, looking to the interviewer for the next question.

“Great,” he says. “Can you go a little deeper into her relationship with Calvin? How does it change as the movie goes on? That kind of stuff.”

The first thing I ever learned about interviews is to start my answer with the question again. “Elise and Calvin’s relationship is constantly evolving throughout the film,” I explain, finding a small comfort in knowing this is the first of a thousand times I will say a variation of this sentence. Somewhere down the line, we’ll do countless press junkets and magazine interviews and red carpets. Summarizing this movie will become like reciting state capitals.

All I have to do is get through the first round.

“They’re old friends, but it’s clear that something more has been bubbling beneath the surface for a very long time,” I continue. “They can’t start there, though. They have to relearn each other. For Elise, she’s content with their friendship. She’s committed to making life comfortable for her mother. That’s her number one priority. The problem is Calvin is as steady and loyal as he ever was. After a while, she has to confront that. She fights hard.” I laugh. “Very, very hard.”

“Why do you think that is?”