Page 8 of Take It Till You Make It
My stomach growls, so I head out to the kitchen to make something for dinner. I consider what to give Mom that she’s most likely to eat. Popping open a little container of cottage cheese, I shake some salt on the top and grab a spoon.
“Here you go, Mom.” I don’t expect her to answer, and since she didn’t ask for food, I don’t really expect her to eat it. But a girl can hope.
Back in the kitchen, I cook up a quesadilla with refried beans and lots of cheese. I plop a dollop of sour cream onto the plate and take it back to my bedroom, curling up on the bed with dinner and my laptop. I try not to dwell on how different life is since we lost Dad. I’ve literally never eaten dinner in bed before. But there’s no one to care.
I have a texting app on my laptop, so I send a message to Glory, trying not to feel slighted that she hasn’t called me back.
Me: Today’s table read was a disaster. They’ve changed my character into a joke. When I spoke up, I got scolded in front of the entire cast. But, hey, you’ll be happy to hear that Crispin Moore is in the movie – last-minute thing.
After I send the message, I stare at it for a bit before I reach over and grab a section of my quesadilla. Dipping it into the sour cream, I take a satisfying bite. The crunch of the fried tortilla, the warmth of the beans, and the stretchy cheese all make me moan. Generally, food isn’t a big thing for me. There aren’t a lot of foods that I love, but this is one of my favorites. It’s also one of the few things I know how to cook.
A notification pops into the corner of my computer screen. It’s a reply from Glory, so I click back into the message app.
Glory: Are you flipping kidding me!!!! Crispin Moore is in your movie, and you had a bad day? In what world can those two things co-exist?
I chuckle.
Me: Honestly, he’s sort of a jerk.
Glory: A hot jerk. With an honest-to-goodness EIGHT pack.
Me: Oh, yes, silly me. His 8 pack makes up for his dismissive attitude. He thought I was an intern. Tried to send me away.
Glory: Were you wearing the bun again? Please tell me you weren’t wearing the bun.
Me: It makes me look older.
Glory: No, Ari, it doesn’t. It makes you look like a freakishly young librarian who just discovered someone messed up the books on her shelves.
Me: I think you’re right. I wanted people to take me seriously, but I might have scared them a little instead.
Glory: Do you start filming tomorrow?
Me: No, I don’t have to be on set for another week.
Glory: What are you going to do in the meantime?
I look around my room at the bare walls and piled boxes.
Me: Unpack, I guess.
Glory: How’s your mom?
Me: If it’s possible, I think she’s worse.
Glory: Oh, no. Ari, I’m sorry.
I click the heart emoji on her last message. There isn’t a lot I can say about what’s going on with Mom. I don’t really understand it. I certainly have no clue how to take care of her or how to help her. I let my head fall back against my pillow and stare up at the ceiling. I’m so in over my head. I wish I hadn’t taken this role. At least at home, Mom had friends to check on her. To draw her out a little. Here we have no one.
Chapter Five
During the weekI have off, I managed to unpack most of our belongings until I simply run out of room to put things away. It’s sort of fun settling into a new place. Having to arrange a linen closet, organize the kitchen, and position the furniture. I tried to tempt Mom out of her room to help me make decisions, but I wasn’t successful. She would tell me how proud she is of me for taking care of everything. She remarked on how much I must miss my friends. But she delivered the sentiments so woodenly that it felt fake or disingenuous. I told myself it was a good sign that she even had those thoughts in the first place. It means even if she isn’t up and involved in our move, she is at least aware of it.
Today is my first day on set. It’s the day I’m having hair and makeup done. Jenny told me to just throw on sweats and a t-shirt and not to even bother washing my hair, because that will be done for me. I did brush my teeth, since I have a hard time imagining anyone wanting to take care of that.
I follow Jenny’s instructions to find makeup, and I step through a door to utter pandemonium. There are people bustling around, nearly knocking into one another as they work on hair and makeup for cast members. One gal testily calls out, “Where’s the three inch?” A guy replies cheekily, “Nothing is only three inches around here,” while an older lady rushes through the mayhem, holding a curling iron high in the air. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I needed it for Casper. Here you go, darling.”
I recognize Sally sitting in a chair on the far side of the room. Her head is bent over her phone as a man unrolls big hot rollers from her gorgeous blonde hair. I don’t see Chandra. Crispin sits patiently as a woman powders his face. His eyes are closed, and he looks so relaxed.
