Page 81 of The Actor: Harrison

He smiles. “I wrote this screenplay because I wanted to start fresh with you. I messed up, you have trust issues—for a good reason, but still, you don’t trust me—so I think we should try to start over. Go home, read this script, and then come back and tell me if you want it or not. Maybe it’s not good enough for you and you’ll decide to not direct it, or that you don’t want me in this movie. It doesn’t matter, we can discuss it openly, no expectations. And maybe we can start from there with our relationship too,” he suggests.

When I came here, I thought I would have an answer: yes or no. Nothing in between, but I actually like this solution even better. A new starting point. A new solid cornerstone for our relationship. Not the sand castle of lies it was built on before.

“Okay. I like this plan,” I agree and he finally seems to relax.

***

I stay up all night with my printed copy of the script on my legs and a pencil in hand, leaning against the headboard of my bed. As soon as I read the first page, I knew I wanted to direct this movie. It’s clever, sarcastic, and witty. It’s a movie that will make you laugh and punch you in the gut at the same time.

Harrison has a brilliant mind and I want to make it shine for everyone to see. This is the movie I’ve always dreamed of directing, all that laughter soaked in melancholy, staying with you for days after you leave the theater.

I knew he could write a good script, but damn, this is an excellent one. I want to be the one to direct it and I want him to star in it.

I make notes in the margins, how I imagine doing the scenes, and the more I reread them, the more I’m convinced this is even greater than the one we just shot. It’s different, less of a tear-jerker, but it makes you think on a completely different level.

If the last one showed us Harrison’s acting skills, this one shows us his soul, and I feel the burden of that on my shoulders. I can’t screw up this one.

“She didn’t call me,” I murmur as I stare out the window of Leonard’s office downtown.

“This habit of yours of showing up without an appointment is annoying,” Leonard points out.

When I turn around, he’s staring at his computer without paying attention to me. I know I’m bothering him, and it’s so much fun. I like to piss him off, especially now that my best friend, Raphael, has been elected Senator and doesn’t have much time for me anymore. I’m not complaining, he’s still my best friend and I know he has more important things to do than hang out with me, but I’m a social person and I need to interact with people.

“And you’re not helping me with my crisis,” I counter.

He finally raises his eyes to me. He is borderline pissed. If I keep this up, he’ll call security.

“It’s barely been twenty-four hours, Harrison. Give her time to read it,” he scolds.

“She had plenty of time to read it, but maybe she doesn’t like it and she doesn’t know how to tell me.” I sit down in the chair in front of his desk and sigh.

He looks at me like I’m a bug he has to kill with his thousand-dollars shoes.

“Does she seem like someone who doesn’t tell you what she thinks?” he points out and he’s not wrong. She went for my throat the first time we met, but that was a different time, we didn’t have a relationship.

“No, but now she’s in love with me and she doesn’t want to hurt me.”

The truth is I’m terrified I wrote the worst script ever and she died laughing. How can writers survive with so much pressure? At least when you’re an actor, you can gauge the casting director’s thoughts looking at their face. I’ve had a million doubts since yesterday when I gave her the screenplay.

Leonard snorts and goes back to work.

“Do you think she’ll call me?” I ask again, more to push his buttons than to get a real answer.

“Do you want me to call security? You are a pain in my ass. Yes. She will call you when she has something to tell you. You asked her to start over, she’s taking her time doing it.”

I don’t know if he’s trying to be helpful or just wants me out of this place, but he’s not entirely wrong. Starting over is not that easy and requires time.

“Well, I’m going home to see if she’s there,” I say moving to the door.

“Finally. I thought you were going to follow me home,” he murmurs.

I grin. “Do you want me to?”

He throws me a deadly glance. I take it as my cue to leave the office before he kills me.

“Harrison!” he calls before I walk out. “She will call you. Give her time, but I’m sure she will call you.”

I smile at him. He always plays the grump, but he cares. Maybe not for many people, but he cares for his friends.

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