Page 77 of First Impressions of You

“Of course you don’t,” I repeat the words out loud. “Nothing is a big deal to you. You’re not the one who had to fight tooth and nail to be here and have your first opportunity be about some diversity token instead of your talent.”

“I know it’s been hard for you, Luiza, but it’s not been easy for me either. Don’t make it sound like you’re the only one who’s doing something difficult here.”

An incredulous laugh whooshes out of me. “That’s rich. You’re lying to our parents about your major so you don’t have to face their harsh opinions, and you’re telling me it’s not been easy for you? What exactly hasn’t been easy?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She takes a step back, uncomfortable with my tone.

“It has everything to do with it, Olivia. Every damn thing. You don’t get what I’m feeling because you’re floating through life avoiding any responsibility. If you ever worked hard for anything in your life, you would understand. You wouldn’t want to have a label plastered on to you, reducing you to just one thing. But you don’t. You don’t because you don’t know the concept of making tough choices. Of facing consequences. Did Mom and Dad ever question your choice to come study here? No, because you lied to them. I didn’t. I never ran away from the consequences of my choices, and you know what that got me? It got me a month of Mom giving me the cold shoulder. It got me endless discussions with Mom and Dad, both of them telling me how I was taking for granted all the investment they’d done at the clinic so we could have a career in the future. It got memories I can’t erase from my mind, no matter how hard I try, of Mom telling me I’m making a mistake. That my dream is ridiculous. That I’ll give up the moment things get hard. That I’ll never be good enough to make it.”

I’m yelling by the time I’m done. My eyes are filled with angry tears that I’m trying hard to hold in.

Olivia is looking at me scared by my outburst, and a sudden swell of guilt starts growing in my chest, but I’m too angry at Movieland, at my parents, at the world, at myself to do something about it.

“I didn’t know,” she whisper, her voice wavering.

I don’t know where I’m going. I leave the house without a plan. I keep walking without noticing where I’m going or how long it’s been. But as I roam around, I force myself not to think about the poster.

Or my fight with Olivia.

Instead, I focus on the city around me. The cars driving by, the sound of a honk here and there, the bright rays of sunshine painting the entire city in a flaming gold. I love it here.

When I first arrived in LA, fresh out of college, I had hopes of staying in here forever. Hollywood is every actor’s dream. At least, it’s supposed to be.

But then I remember one of the first actors I met earlier in the year.

She’d been here for a little over a year, and we met at a Trader Joe’s. She was in front of me in line but had forgotten to get her tofu, so she asked me to watch her cart for a second.

When she came back, she started a conversation. It felt like we were old friends who just happened to run into each other at a grocery store. When she learned I was an aspiring actress too, she gave me an apologetic smile.

“Oh, honey.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. I don’t know what caught me by surprise the most, the gentleness of the gesture or the fact that she was touching me, a complete stranger, in the first place. The thing I had taken the longest to adjust in moving to the US was the lack of physical contact. And suddenly, there she was, petting me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I don’t want to ruin your dreams, but everyone says LA is where dreams come true until they arrive here and learn that LA is actually the city where dreams come to die.”

The cashier called her at that moment, and she left without telling me her name. The only thing she left behind was the paralyzing fear that I’d made a mistake coming here. A big mistake.

That was March, seven months ago. For a long time, I think I believed her. I had been trying to get a job other than the one at Movieland’s front gate, but nothing was happening. Even auditions were becoming more and more scarce.

If the city was determined to ruin everyone’s dreams, who was I to try and beat the odds?

But now I have, haven’t I? I’ve got a job. An actual paid acting job. So why can’t I just be happy about it? Why do I still feel like… like I’m not enough?

When I come to it, I find myself at Film Strip, mere feet away from the front gate of the park.

I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know why this is the place my mind chose to look for solace when I’m feeling so lost, but I’m here. I take a couple of deep breaths as I look around, trying to find what brought me here, but it’s only when I see Emily in the distance, walking into the Sheriff’s Gate, that I realize I’m in the wrong place.

Finding Emily isn’t easy, but I manage to track her down on the sixth floor of the 441 building.

When she walks out of Anne Marie’s office a good half hour later, she’s surprised to find me waiting down the hall.

“Luiza,” she calls, walking toward me. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you off today?”

“I…” What am I doing here?

“Is everything okay?” Her voice takes on a worried tone now. “Do you wanna talk?”

I simply nod, afraid if I try to talk a sob might come out instead.

“Let’s go to my office.” She beckons me to a door down the hall. Closing the door behind us, she takes a seat at the armchair facing the small couch and point for me to sit down.

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