Page 54 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
“I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. What got you interested in acting?”
“Ever since I was a kid, I loved watching movies. Acting always seemed like a fun job. As I got older and began learning more about what goes into really stepping into a character and the craft of acting, it fascinated me. I liked learning about the psychology of the person I was playing. So, I auditioned for different roles, small ones, and I got a few every now and then. Nothing big, you know, just supporting roles, but never the lead. And the one time I finally got the lead, I was fired. That knocked me off my feet. I figured I wasn’t cut out for acting and that’s when I became a gardener. I almost didn’t take the role as Matteo because of my gardening job. When they asked me to audition, I was in the middle of a gardening project for a customer and I feel bad because I never finished it.”
She writes quickly on her notepad as I answer. “Well, we’re all very happy you auditioned and got the role,” she says, adjusting the strap on her aqua coverup and shifting her position. “What’s your favorite song on your album?”
“Hands down, “Dad.” I wrote it for my dad. It has great meaning for me.”
“I’ve heard it. I love the lyrics you wrote. It’s a beautiful tribute to him.” She pauses. “Who do you want to do a movie with?”
“Robert De Niro,” I say, without hesitation.
“Why him?”
“That guy can master so many different types of roles. He’s truly inspiring.”
“I’ve loved every movie I’ve seen him in. You’re right, he’s extraordinary in every role he plays. Okay, what’s your favorite food?”
“Mmm, there’s nothing better than Mamma’s pasta,” I say, curling all the fingertips on one hand to my pursed lips and then spreading my fingers outward as I move my hand back, making a kissing sound, and smile.
She giggles. “Good answer. Do you have a favorite tattoo? And if you do, what’s the meaning of it?”
“They each have a special meaning, but this one,” I hold out my left hand to show her the top of my hand with the phoenix and skull inked into my skin, “is my favorite. You see the phoenix, when it dies, it’s born again. And the skull inside represents bad things. So, when bad things try to get me, the phoenix will take them and fly away with them.”
More scribbling on her notepad. “Almost like a guardian angel.” She has a way of bringing lightness to my dark side.
“Almost. Let’s do two more questions. Then will you walk with me on the beach?”
“Okay. What keeps you humble with your fast rise to fame?”
“The thing about fame is that it can be gone just as fast as it came.” I snap my fingers. “Even though I may be on the rise right now, tomorrow it can all be gone. I’m grateful for every day of this life I get to live.”
“Life can change in the blink of an eye.”
“This is why we must be grateful. Life isn’t about money and fame. Those are things we desire and dream about having and there’s nothing wrong with wanting those things. I want them. But life is about love, generosity, and living in your essence every minute of every day. It’s about baring your soul and protecting the souls of those you love.”
As I speak, she stops writing. She stares at me like she’s hanging on to every word. I want to know what she’s thinking right now.
“Um, okay. One more question here and then we can do the rest later. What was your childhood like?”
“Do you mind if I answer while we walk? Or do you need your notepad?”
“No, we can walk. If I forget something, I’ll just ask you again.” She stands and puts down her notebook and pen then takes off her hat, wraps her small purse across her body, and puts her hat back on. “Do you want to put your wallet in here?”
“Okay.” I stand, hand her my wallet, and take off my shirt, tossing it onto my chair.
“Okay,” she says, under her breath as her eyes sweep quickly across my torso and she takes my wallet, tucking it into her purse, not looking back up at me.
We walk in silence to the edge of the water.
“Your hat is cute. You need it to protect your fair skin.”
“Yeah, I burn easily.”
“I bet.” I want to see more of her creamy, fair skin. “There was nothing special about my childhood, I don’t think. My dad worked hard. He was in construction. He had the most amazing work ethic. But he also made time for family. Family was very important to him. He understood the values of life. By my age, he had a stable job, was married, and had two kids.” Tightness wrings around my chest at the reality that I’ve not accomplished any of these things. A reality that was shoved in my face four years ago. “I always looked up to him and wanted him to be proud of me.” I swallow, trying to ease the constriction in my throat. I miss him every day.
“I think he would be very proud of the man you’ve become.” She looks up at me, the sincerity in her voice overwhelms me.
