Page 142 of Come Apart
After a few minutes she turns to me.
She's still not talking.
I lean closer. "You want to tell me what's wrong?"
She looks out at the water—a giant mess of black bleeding into a dark sky. "I've been taking a lot of meetings. Mostly they were good. The show is doing well, and it looks like it will be a huge boon to my career."
"That's great."
"Yeah, it is." She trails off. Her eyes move to the sky, to the tiny sliver of moon above us. "It's mostly been the same kind of thing. The hot chick, the ex-girlfriend, the bitch. I have to thank Laurie for writing Marie Jane as such a completely awful woman, because everyone thoroughly buys me as awful."
"It suits you."
She laughs but the joy fades quickly. "This one was different though. This guy is in his thirties. He's a writer-director. Shot this tiny micro-budget film that rocked the festival circuit. And now he's looking for a lead for his next feature."
"That's great."
"I thought so. And the character is great. She's dynamic, strong and vulnerable all at once. A bitch sometimes, but still sweet and caring. And she isn't the love interest. She's not the hot babe. She's the star." She squeezes my hand tighter. "It's stupid. It's not a big deal at all, really. I shouldn't be upset."
"What happened?"
"Well." She turns her gaze back to the water. "He talked so much like he was different. He talked about how he wanted to make something real and gritty." She imitates him, hunching over, clutching an invisible cigarette. She brings the invisible cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. "I see all this fake Hollywood bullshit. Happy endings, pretty people. It's all fake. That's not the world. That's not life." She exhales from her fake cigarette, looking to the sky ever so pretentiously. "Life hurts. And I'm not about to show people sanitized bullshit. Have you ever seen downtown LA in a movie? It looks so clean. So fake." She shifts back to her normal posture. "He went on and on about how real he wanted the movie to be."
"Sounds like a douche bag."
"Yeah, basically." She pulls the blanket tighter. "I liked his passion at first. He had me convinced." She bites a fingernail, her eyes on her knuckles. "I really thought he was different."
"But?"
"He told me I was too fat to play the lead." She pulls her fingernail from her mouth and presses it into her free hand. "Not in those words, of course. But he got the point across."
That fucker.
"Ally, I'm so sorry."
"It shouldn't bother me. This is just how it is for actresses. We need to look a certain way if we want to fit into roles."
"That's bullshit."
"Sure, but there's nothing I can do about it. And your outrage isn't going to make it any easier."
"If you tell me where he lives, I'll kick his ass.”
She cracks a smile, but shakes her head. "That's not necessary."
I move closer to her. "I'm so sorry. I wish you didn't have to go through this."
She bites her lip. "I don't. I don't have to keep acting." The look on her face is grim, like it's a horrible thought she hates considering.
"You love acting."
"Yeah, I know, but... maybe Ryan was right. Maybe I can't handle it."
"Alyssa, don't do this to yourself. Don't let him back into your head."
"I'm not."
"You are." I run my fingers across her cheek, tilting her head so her gaze meets mine. "He convinced you that you're weak. He convinced you that you're useless without him. But he's wrong. You are the strongest person I know."
