Page 10 of Reel Love

“Mila and Kai set a date. And of course Noah’s going to be a groomsman. None of this carrying the rings for that boy. No sir. He told Kai, ‘I’m going to wear a tuxedo and stand up front with the other guys.’ I think Kalaine is trying to talk Kai into having Shaka take the rings down the aisle. A dog in a wedding. That’s something you’d never have seen back in my day.”

I settle onto one of the barstools, content to hear Phyllis talk about anything, her niece’s wedding, the weather, whatever.

She plops a lemon bar on my plate and slides it in my direction. Then she pulls up the stool next to mine.

“You know what’s divine with these? Strawberry tea.” She takes a bite and hums.

I glance toward the microwave. Phyllis, being as perceptive as ever, follows my line of vision.

She stands and walks to the microwave, opens the door,furrows her brow and holds my now-room-temperature dinner out in front of her.

“Is this what you’re supposed to be eating?”

I nod.

“Well …” Phyllis pauses. Her eyes flit between the plate in her hand and the one sitting on the counter in front of me. “Dessert first!”

I laugh. “You’re a horrible influence. You know that?”

“I’m a magnificent influence and you know it. Those studios would have you looking like a skeleton with skin. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you one thousand times. And I’m going to keep telling you. They’ll steal your soul if you let them. You have to draw your lines. At the end of the day, it’s a job.”

She stares at me, her eyes warm with concern and love. “A career. I’ll give you that. It’s more than a job. But it’s merely what pays the bills. You could sell popsicles at the Corner Market or you could portray characters on film. One pays a bit better, sure. But it also demands a whole lot more. And it will take all if you allow it. So, don’t. You’re Alana Graves. Act like it.”

Phyllis’ slightly wrinkled hand comes up to cup my cheek. In a soft voice, full of emotion, with the sweetest smile on her face she adds, “Act like it, Gwendolyn.”

She utters my childhood name like a secret we share. And it is one. Gwendolyn’s a perfectly great name for an actress. I was named with my future in mind. But, just before I had an audition for a life-changing role in my first sitcom at age twelve, my mother learned that another up-and-coming child actress named Gwen was also trying out for that same show. So, we fixed that. My name was legally changed before auditions even started. I got the role. Gwen got a walk-on for one episode. I’ve been Alana ever since, both in my childhood home and in the public eye.

I smile at Phyllis.

“I’ll act like it,” I assure her, knowing full well her idea of what that means and the reality of what I’ll do are worlds apart.

“I never did agree with them changing your name,” she mutters around the next bite of her lemon bar.

“It was forAround the Block,”I defend, even though I know she knows.

“Hmph.” She rolls her eyes.

Around the Blockran for five years. Giving up my name turned out to be a great move. Not that they wouldn’t have hired me without the name change. Who knows. With my family’s legacy in the industry, they might have given me the advantage unspoken nepotism often does. Either way, that show was the springboard we had been working toward. It ran long enough for me to get my feet wet and become an established actress.

I made a name for myself, meaning I was given preferential auditions for other sitcoms whenAround the Blockfinished filming, and we had our choice of what I’d do next. I landed the key role as the live-in nanny onAre You Kidding Me?When that series ended, I already had my first movie lined up. And the rest is history.

My career has been like a whitewater rafting trip. I stepped onto the boat, looking for something to grab on to. Newsflash: rafts don’t have handles. You have to go with the flow from the first shove off shore. I’ve been sloshing, peaking, dipping, and careening forward, propelled by a force much greater than me ever since my pre-teen years. The current has swept me along, and there’s no end in sight.

Phyllis may think this is merely a career, and I appreciate the way her wisdom always feels like a warm bath after a particularly long day. But she doesn’t know what it’s like to be me—a woman born into this destiny like a princess birthed into royalty. Apparently, Phyllis had a choice. I’m happy for her. I won’t argue with her, either. Instead, I’ll enjoy one of my favorite things on earth—time with my friend and the rare treat of her delicious lemon bars.

Joel arrives with my groceries. Phyllis helps me put them away while she reheats my meal in the microwave. Then she shreds thechicken over the quinoa and places the spinach on top. She digs through my refrigerator and finds some salsa.

“You’re allowed to eat this aren’t you?”

“I just had a lemon bar. I’d say all regulated eating is out the window when you’re around.”

“Good. As it should be.” She nods definitively, scoops some salsa into the bowl and stirs it in. “If only you had cheese in this house.”

“You’re incorrigible.” I chuckle.

“You’re in need of a whole lot of incorrigible. I’m here as a service to you.” She smiles over at me.

Incorrigible. I store that word in my memory bank for Play on Words. It’s a good one with B, C and G. Thinking of the game draws my mind back to Wordivore. Next time we play I’ll know if my opponent is a female or male. My money’s on a guy, and I can hardly wait to see if I’m right.

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