Page 45 of Marisol Acts the Part
“Fine. Guess I’ll have to run out and get my own banana,” Rune announces to the room, as if this is the greatest tragedy of the twenty-first century. Thankfully, one of his PAs appears out of thin air—as they often do—holding a banana she clearly took out from the tote bag on her shoulder.
Rune scrutinizes the banana’s brown spots, as if he somehow knows this is her personal banana and not one sent by the gods of crafty, but ultimately decides not to fight it. Once he’s taken his first bite, the tension in his shoulders slackens, but his voice isn’t any less tight.
“Let’s get started,” he barks, not changing his “I’m angry for some absurd reason” tone.
Which is just my luck since I’m in the first scene of the day.
And it’s with Miles.
I quickly set down my phone—abandoning the essay-length text I’d been writing to Kevin to try to convince him that hehasto lip-sync to a Beyoncé song for the competition. He’d been floating around a couple of different ideas, but QueenB is always the answer.
We get to our marks in a makeshift classroom, Miles seated on the edge of a desk and me standing on the opposite end of the room. As always, Rune approaches us before we begin the scene with a handful of edits to our lines. They’re not total rewrites like they have been in the past, but they’re substantial enough for me to need an extra minute to study and get themdown.
With Jamila’s continued help with practicing my lines inour trailer, I don’t break out into a panic every time Rune flips the script on me. I’ve even managed to come up with my own memorization technique. Focusing on the thought of telling Jamila about all these line changes after my scene has wrapped and we’re on the couch in our trailer with Diet Cokes, tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths. The way her lips will curl in the corners, her soft, melodic laugh, as she fights back a snort and says, “Seriously?That’swhat he went with?”
I fan my cheeks as Rune calls for everyone to get into place, brushing off the thought of Jamila and focusing on the real subject of my attention: Miles. Or Will. My ex-boyfriend. On- and off-screen.
It’s another emotionally charged scene. Possibly my most intense moment of the season—when, after months of on-and-off hookups, I finally confront Miles and his obvious feelings for Jamila.
The characters, I mean. Not the real people, obviously.
“Why are we here?” Miles, in character, asks, as he looks away and crosses his arms.
“Because we need to talk,” I reply sharply, easily slipping into the new harsher exterior I’ve created for Zoe. “About you and…her.”
Miles does a wonderful job of making his eyes light up at the mention of Jamila’s character. Something I try not to dwell on—both in real life and in character. “What about her?”
My fingers curl into a fist. “I know what’s going on. You can’t keep lying to me.”
“I’m not—”
“You are!” I shout, tears springing to my eyes as I givemyself over completely to the scene. I channel the rage and heartbreak and insecurity I’ve felt over the past few months into my performance. Zoe and I may be polar opposites, but I can understand what it’s like to feel disposable. Especially to someone like Miles.
“You can’t come crawling back to me at night when you want to feel better about yourself, then toss me out in the morning. I’m a fucking person, Will. And I’m tired of this. I know what you went through with your dad and brother was awful, and Iknowyou’re struggling, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to treat me like I’m something you can throw away.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as the scene ends. Miles says his last line, but it’s drowned out by the noise inside my brain. I remain trapped in that anger, body trembling even after we call cut. When the overhead lights switch on again, I’m surrounded by silence, but it doesn’t feel intimidating this time.
Because I know I absolutely nailed it.
Once I’ve composed myself, I find that Miles is staring at me, mouth agape.
“That was…” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That was incredible, Mari.”
A compliment from my ex shouldn’t light my whole body on fire, but it does. Not because I’m hoping this’ll change anything between us. But because it’s proof—tangibleproof—thatI’vechanged. That I did exactly what I set out to do. That I proved him wrong.
Before I can relish in the victory of crushing my scene, Rune’s voice calls us to attention.
“Run it again. From the second page,” he says throughgritted teeth. His eyes are closed as he massages his temples, and when his script falls off his lap and onto the ground, he lets his PAs scramble to pick it up for him.
Miles and I brace ourselves, waiting for him to give any of his usual notes on our first take, but he doesn’t speak up again or even look at us. He snaps his fingers when we don’t get a move-on.
Quickly wiping my cheeks and restoring the bruised confidence I have by the second page of the scene, we start again.
“Zoe, you know what she means to me,” says Miles, able to easily slip back into character.
“I don’t. And I don’t think you do either. If you—”
“Stop!” Rune shouts yet again.
