Stefanie, Chapter 1

Act 3, Scene 1:

Flashing our IDs, we stroll through the security gate. The bright sun is setting, and the air feels heavy and hot all around me. Making our way to his place, I am quiet and tense. We walk up two flights of stairs to his apartment. I ask if anyone's home, and he says, "Probably everyone." Even though I’m shy, somehow I don't care right now. We walk in, and there's a plain-looking girl ironing her shirt and eyeing David as he enters the room. I introduce myself to her. "Hi, I'm Stefanie. Nice to meet you." She introduces herself quickly then immediately diverts her attention back to David. Grinning, she relates such irrelevant information about her day that he is left nodding occasionally and pretending to care.

Suddenly, the scene flashes. His roommate is gone, and he's baking a pizza for me. He places the pizza directly on the oven rack with no pan underneath. His whole apartment is a mess. There's clothes strewn everywhere, empty liters of soda lying around, everything is just scattered. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a cockroach crawling on the wall. He offers a limited selection of Sprite and water to drink. Suddenly I feel awkward, like he doesn't know how to take care of himself. I shouldn't have come here. I know what he wants. He’s been flirting with me all day, but I have a boyfriend. We may be far apart, but I'm committed to him. That's the type of person I am. Innocently, I ask if I can see his room. "Sure," he says. I lie on his bed, very purposely. I can feel it; I am craving attention and love. He closes the door. I pick a movie out. He lies on the bed and pulls me close. I hardly know him.

The closer and closer he gets, the more and more I wonder what's going to happen. We're watching a scary movie. Sometimes he seems afraid, which surprises me. He's eighteen, one year younger than I am. His bookshelf is filled with classic tales by C.S. Lewis, like The Chronicles of Narnia and The Screwtape Letters. My best friend from high school loved those books. I suddenly feel closer to him, but I know deep down that I don’t know him any better. It’s just a memory of the past, a trace of nostalgia, that leaves me distracted and fooled. He's touching my back now, rubbing around my shoulders. I shouldn't be doing this. He's running his fingers down my back.

The scene flashes again. I’m lying beside him, my lips so close to his. I have no idea whether or not to kiss him. I know I shouldn't. I have a boyfriend, and this guy doesn’t care about me. I sit there like a stone. Hesitantly, I bring my lips to his. Something sparks between us, and the whole scene spirals out of control. We start kissing like I never have before. It's completely uncontrolled and insane, and I feel like it's all been pent up inside until this moment. He whispers, "Move over." I do, and he climbs on top of me, holding my arms down and kissing me, sticking his tongue deep into my mouth over and over. I close my eyes because I can't stand to see this scene unfolding in front of me. He's touching my chest now, feeling around, judging. I don't like my breasts, and he's feeling around. Stop, I think frantically to myself. He pushes himself into me, and suddenly I freeze. I'm not on birth control, I think in horror. What if he... doesn't stop? We still have our clothes on, so I’m not panicking, but I have no idea what will happen. He stops. He lies down on me, silent for a couple minutes. Then he kisses me again, repeating his actions, pushing against me. Then he stops once more, silently lying on top of me and breathing lightly into my ear. He gets off of me.

After the movie ends, he acts like absolutely nothing happened. He asks me whether I want to go home or go to a party. I decide to go home. Later I attend the party, and I see him there. He walks directly in front of me and asks me how I'm doing. After some small talk, he promptly leaves and ignores me the rest of the night. I'm not crushed. I'm used to this treatment. I’ve been taken advantage of most of my life, and this time I could see it coming anyway.

End of Act 3, Scene 1

"Okay, did you read through the whole scene this time?"

I stare at Ashley, my arms folded. She scrunches her eyebrows.

"Wait, I don't understand," she says, running her finger lightly over the manuscript.

"What?"

"Well, it just seems like the scene is so disorganized and chaotic. I can’t follow it."

"We’ve been over this, Ashley. The main character is mentally ill. She’s experiencing a traumatic event, so she copes by disconnecting herself from reality."

"Is that what those flashes are about?”

Ashley sits there uselessly, the same look of confusion clouding her face. I sigh and rub my forehead, thoroughly frustrated. It’s clear that she just doesn’t get it.

"Come on, Ashley. I’m not going to spell the meaning out to you. I’m tired of this."

"Look, I'll have you know I'm a top of the line actress here in L.A. I know what I’m doing, so you can either trust me to nail the part or not. It's up to you."

With my head buried in the palm of my hand, I decide that even though Ashley is tedious to work with, she’s the best I have for now. Exasperated, I give in.

"Fine, I'll level with you Ashley, but hear me out. This is not my work of art, it's someone else's. I'm just the director. I interpret it and bring it to life. It's also your job to interpret the character you're representing.”

“I get it. I’m very experienced, and more importantly, I’m not a child.” She rolls her eyes at me.

“Ashley, you’re eighteen.”

“Just explain the scene already!”

“God, you’re unbelievable. Alright, it’s not that difficult. Stefanie is mentally ill, but you can connect to her character if you put yourself in her position emotionally. Imagine a traumatic event that could or has happened to you, and put yourself right in the middle of that event. How would you react?”

“Well, I know that if someone trashed my Mercedes, I would be an absolute wreck.”

She smirks at me, and I glare back.

“I can’t work with you. We’re just going to shoot it again, and I expect you to deliver. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, I’ll deliver one-hundred percent.” She says sarcastically.

I call out “Quiet on the set!” A hush falls over all the whispering spectators.

“Action!”

Ashley is lying sideways on a small bed in the corner of the room. She is resting next to Luke, playing the role of David. He is gently stroking her hair and gazing into her eyes. She brings her lips closer and closer to his. The anticipation grows, you can feel the tension, and finally…

“Cut!”

I slam down the manuscript and jump out of the director’s chair, making a direct B-line for Ashley.

“I just couldn’t help it! I had to see if he was ticklish!” Ashley exclaims, as I throw my hands up in the air.

As I approach the bed, I place one hand on my hips and wag a finger at her.

“Ashley! Are you taking this role seriously at all?!”

“Look, it’s not easy to take anything seriously when you have this delicious treat lying right next to you.”

She suggestively winks at Luke, as he looks away awkwardly and tries to avoid eye contact. She looks at me and smiles mischievously.

“See, Maria? He can barely stay away from me. All the boys are like that. I’m just irresistibly sexy.”

I close my eyes in frustration. I can feel my eyebrow twitching.

“You aren’t the right girl for the part. You’re completely self-absorbed!”

“Fire me then, Maria! Do it, I have millions of directors out there dying to hire me as we speak!”

I pull at my hair and grumble.

“Where is my Starbuck’s?!”

Ashley rolls her eyes as I have yet another mental breakdown on the set.

“Ashley, I’ve been working with you on this film for god knows how long, and all you can do is strut around like a Playboy bunny. I don’t get it.”

“I get into the character, Maria! Actors like me are one in a million. I invest myself completely in the character.  You just don’t see it.”

“You invest yourself completely in your collection of boy toys.” I mumble incoherently.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. We’ll pick it up where we left off later today. I want you to take a look at another scene. Maybe it will motivate you. Obviously I just can’t trust you with sex scenes.”

I notice Ashley is too busy to listen to me, as she diligently primps herself in a nearby mirror. Luke has already left the scene and is long gone. I sigh and decide to leave as well.

Since one of the idiotic understudies forgot to bring me my coffee, I leave to fetch it myself at Starbuck’s. It’s a warm summer day, and I’m rejoicing over the thought of returning home to see my husband and kids. I jump into the chevy and turn on the stereo, humming to "Lady Madonna" by The Beatles.I'm about one block away when I suddenly notice a girl in the center of the road, lying flat on her back. I panic and  push the break immediately, as cop cars block the road off. I step out of the chevy to confirm whether or not she's alright, but I keep my distance from the scene. She appears to be in a lot of pain, and I can hear her moaning. Another girl is right there next to her, whispering words of comfort. The police are speaking with her as well.

An ambulance pulls up. They pull a few braces from the back of the truck and carefully attach them to the girl’s neck and spine. As they lift her onto the stretcher, she cries out in pain, repeating the phrase “oh my god” over and over.

I feel slightly disturbed, but I know I should carry on and not make too much of a spectator out of myself. I have never witnessed an accident like this. I can see she has received medical attention, and that’s good enough. I take a turn to the right, even though it’s out of my way. I decide not to go to Starbuck’s today, even though it’s a tradition of mine.

As I pull into the driveway, I put the incident behind me. My husband walks up to the chevy, a garden hose in his right hand and a weed whacker in the left.

“Hey honey, how are you?”

“I’m fine.” We give each other a quick kiss.

“Uh oh, is Ashley giving you trouble again?”

How perceptive he is.

“Chris, you don’t know the half of it. She is a nightmare to work with. I know she’s only eighteen, I know she still has some teenage angst and hormones coursing through her blood, but it’s just no excuse.”

He sighs and brushes my hair past my ear.

“Maria, relax. I’m sure she’ll pull through.”

I roll my eyes at his blatant optimism and ease up the rest of the way into the driveway, setting the chevy into park. I step out of the car and embrace Chris.

“It’s just that so much shit has happened since I started working on this film. Even today on my way to Starbuck’s, a woman was struck by a car and had to be taken to the hospital. I feel like a little rain cloud is following me, and its name is Ashley.”

Chris laughs warmly.

“Come on, honey. The kids really want to see you. You’ll cheer up when you see them.”

As Chris and I open the door to our beautiful house, our kids immediately attach themselves to us like leeches.

“Mommy’s home!”

“Sorry kids, but mommy is tired. Daddy is going to play with you tonight.”

I let out a groan as I reach for the hardcore Vodka bottle in the kitchen pantry.  Chris laughs at me and hoists our five-year-old daughter up on his shoulder. Our three-year-old son tugs at my skirt.

“I don’t think it’s so funny. Vodka is my only friend anymore, besides Starbuck’s. I’m so miserable Chris.” I pretend to sob on his shoulder dramatically, and he grins.

“I’m not your friend?”

I roll my eyes at his sarcasm and concoct a drink for myself. Before I take a single sip, I am suddenly feeling strange. I feel a little bit overwhelmed. Chris stares at me, concerned. I simply shrug in response and head to our bedroom, giving him and our kids a kiss goodnight before I leave. I finish my drink and pull the covers up to my neck. I stare silently at the dark ceiling. The cracked door lets a glimmer of light in, and I hear Chris playing with the kids nearby. Our daughter laughs and our son shouts, “Daddy, daddy!” I fall asleep to this monotonous lullaby.