Method Acting

by Adele Buck

  Wait. He rubbed his chin, thinking about the first thing that had connected them. He went over to the little bookshelf at the other end of the room and pulled out a volume, paging through it. Bringing it back to the desk, he laid it down and picked up his pen again.

  “…So that’s the whole story,” Alicia said, digging her spoon into the ice cream carton. She was on the sofa, bookended by her friends. Wendy had a glass of wine, and Kathleen sipped whiskey. Bowls of sweet and salty snacks littered the coffee table.

  Wendy laid her hand on Alicia’s knee, squeezing. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah, but…” Kathleen’s lips clipped shut at Wendy’s glare.

  “But what?” Alicia asked.

  “But nothing. Gentle Wendy’s going to skin me.” Kathleen sipped her drink, eyes comically wide.

  Wendy made a “tch” sound and turned back to Alicia. “Why are you so convinced the two of you wouldn’t work? It sounds like it was pretty good up until the whole…thing about the nude scene. And it sounds like he fumbled the catch, but made it right in the end.”

  Alicia put the ice cream down on the table, her throat too tight to swallow anything else. “It was good. It was great. But…” She picked up the iPad and showed it to Wendy. “This was his last girlfriend.”

  Wendy took the tablet and looked at the society photo, then she tapped the screen, swiping through the open browser windows. “Why do you have, like…eight tabs open that are all about this woman?”

  Kathleen moved to look over Wendy’s shoulder. Her lip curled. “Ugh. She…”

  “Is the exact opposite of me,” Alicia said, ignoring Wendy’s question and the embarrassed flush of heat that flooded her face.

  “I was going to say she looks like she’s full of herself. Washington power couple nauseating bullshit.” Kathleen tapped the screen and made another face. “But they broke up. What’s the problem?”

  Alicia waved at the iPad. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s educated, she’s cultured, she’s the daughter of some big deal guy at his firm. She’s even my physical opposite. She’s petite, she’s got long dark hair…”

  Kathleen gave Alicia a look that said she wasn’t impressed. “And she’s his ex-girlfriend. Emphasis on the ex. I presume for reasons.”

  Alicia gnawed a fingernail. “Apparently, she cheated.”

  Kathleen dusted her hands, dismissing Tressa Lloyd-Hudson. “So, despite her so-called culture and education, she’s an amoral ignoramus.”

  “Well, she’s not the only society girl on the tree. I’m sure there are plenty out there just like her who would be plenty faithful.”

  Wendy put the iPad on the table. “But he chose you.”

  Alicia picked up the ice cream, jabbing at it with the spoon. “He would un-choose me eventually. We’re too different.”

  “So, deciding he was going to break up with you, you beat him to it?”

  “That was the idea. Rip the Band-Aid off early and fast.” Alicia’s plan didn’t sound so smart, so ironclad now.

  Kathleen’s eyebrows lifted. “But if it wasn’t for your fixation on your different backgrounds, would you still want to be with him?”

  Alicia put the ice cream carton down again and covered her eyes with one hand. “Yeah. I would.”

  Wendy laid a hand on Alicia’s shoulder. “Alicia, you’re so self-sufficient it’s scary. You may be one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. Why does this frighten you so much?”

  Kathleen snorted, and one corner of her lip curled up. “She’s a loner, Dottie. A rebel.”

  Wendy stared at her. “That was the worst Pee Wee Herman impression I’ve ever heard.”

  “But you knew it was Pee Wee. The point remains: Alicia’s not a people person.”

  Alicia’s mouth quirked sideways. “I’m that obvious?”

  “Either that or I have stunning powers of observation,” Kathleen said, seating herself again and popping a potato chip into her mouth. “Or both.” She snorted and waved her hand at Alicia. “Come on. We practically had to force our friendship on you. But that’s okay. You’ll never be rid of us now.”

  “I don’t want to be,” Alicia said, her voice small. It was true. After so many years of sliding in and out of easy, temporary “friendships,” Alicia wanted these two to remain in her life.

  Kathleen nodded. “Well, that’s a start. How about getting your man back?”

  “He’s not my man, and I wouldn’t even know where to begin. He’s probably over me already.”

  “I’ll bet not,” Kathleen said, throwing a handful of popcorn at Alicia.

  The idea of trying to call Colin, of admitting that she still wanted him in her life, was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. “I don’t know. I need some time to think about it.”

  Wendy patted Alicia’s knee. “Don’t wait forever.”

  Chapter 21

  Two days later, Alicia came home tired but triumphant. Laura had more than one conversation with “The Suits in L.A.” and had worn them down. Alicia would do the scene in a robe from the expensive hotel where her character was having her assignation with the sexy lobbyist.

  A tight band squeezed Alicia’s heart. The actor playing the lobbyist was lean and blond. Attractive, she supposed, but she was still using a mental image of Colin as her connection to the lust and heat she was supposed to feel for the man. Laura had praised Alicia for bringing an “interesting color” to her scenes with him.

  Considering how the memories of Colin affected her, Alicia figured between “blue balls” and sadness being “blue,” that “interesting” color Laura referred to was a sexually frustrated, morose shade of indigo.

  Flipping up the lid of the mailbox on the wall next to her front door, Alicia retrieved a couple of envelopes and hurried inside. One was addressed to the owner of the apartment, and Alicia placed it on a side table, breathing the air-conditioned cool with relief. The heat was still oppressive outside, though today’s scenes had been mostly interiors. She had yet to shoot the scene at the sculpture garden and she still dreaded going back to the place, inhabited as it was with memories of Colin.

  The second envelope was made from substantial, expensive-feeling paper and hand-addressed to her. Turning it over, she expected to see a return address. Nothing. Unease prickled her skin. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the thick black ink was clear and strong. It looked both old-fashioned and official, and had a Washington, D.C. postmark. Sliding a thumb under the flap, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of costly paper.

  Dear Alicia,

  I hope the filming is going well. The Post can’t seem to stay away from your show, and I can’t seem to avoid reading those articles. The word “buzz” is tossed about, and I fear I may see yet more pieces that remind me of you. I dread when the episodes begin to air. As much as I want to see you, I don’t think I will be able to watch. It would hurt too much to see you, hear you, not be able to touch you.

  I don’t know that there is anything I can say to change your mind, to make you see us the way I see us. All I can do is tell you that I am still here and I still want you. I want your prickly independence. Your innovative mind. Your passionate intensity. I want the similarities I see between us and the differences that you perceive. In short, I still want it all.

  I understand that you may still feel wary or afraid. There are never guarantees, after all. But I am willing to take those risks. I hope that someday you are willing to also.

  The purpose of this letter is not to badger you or argue you into feeling something you do not feel, but merely to give you something tangible to show you that I have not changed my mind should you ever doubt me. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks” might as well be my motto these days.

  Wishing you the very best for your health and happiness,

  Colin

  Alicia’s hand had crept up to cover her mouth as she read the letter, her heart hammering. She re-read it again and focused on the line from Shakespea
re’s Sonnet 116, her memory completing the phrase.

  Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

  But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

  Colin gripped his glass of whiskey and wondered how long he had to endure before he could leave. He’d grudgingly agreed to join his colleagues on the trip to a bar to celebrate the successful acquisition of the new client, a large tech firm. The client company made it clear that they wanted Colin’s services as well as the litigation services that they had initially been pitched, concerned they wouldn’t have a workforce in ten years if America didn’t invest in STEM education. He should have been elated.

  Instead, he stood and stared at nothing and wondered if Alicia had received his letter yet. If she had read it or tossed it away. Had he gone too far with the Shakespeare?

  Had he not gone far enough?

  A hand clapped his shoulder, and his startled eyes focused on Brandon standing next to him.

  “Congratulations,” Brandon said, clinking his glass against Colin’s. “I understand your skill with congressional staff has more than a little to do with this shindig.”

  Colin shrugged. “I don’t know about that,” he said, even though the CEO of the company himself had told Colin that he was impressed at the firm’s forward-thinking attitudes in investing in education.

  “Typical British modesty, or is something else going on?” Brandon asked with his usual quiet shrewdness.

  Jaw set, Colin considered Brandon carefully. The other man’s hazel eyes were serene as they traveled around the bar, lighting with a smile as he focused on something. Colin turned to follow Brandon’s gaze and saw a mass of copper curls come in the door and start through the crowd on the way towards them. Looking back at Brandon, he saw the other man’s face relax into a smile as he watched his fiancée work her way through the crowd to join him.

  Colin’s heart squeezed as Mari reached Brandon and the pair exchanged chaste cheek kisses and conspiratorial smiles. Mari turned within the circle of Brandon’s arm and grinned at Colin.

  “Hi,” she said to Colin. Her eyes flicked around the bar. “Where’s Alicia?”

  Colin didn’t miss the way Mari looked at the air around him as if Alicia was just supposed to materialize. “She’s…we’re not together anymore,” he said.

  Brandon dropped his arm from around Mari’s shoulders. “That’s too bad. You seemed like a nice match. We liked her a lot when we met her at the gala.”

  Trying for an easy smile that he was sure looked more like a ghastly grimace, Colin waved his hand at the pair. “Please don’t stop your canoodling on my account. It’s not like we were together long.”

  Mari regarded him seriously. “Does that matter?”

  Trust Mari to somehow skip straight to the heart of the problem. Once, Brandon had told Colin that his fiancée had a brilliant mind and an oddly developed sense of empathy, often using movies, television, and other pop culture references to try to understand people. This method produced erratic results that were sometimes off, but more frequently they were eerily accurate.

  Mari was right. Colin may not have been with Alicia long, but the yearning he felt for her was like being towed out to sea, helpless and swamped by the emotion that rushed around and over him.

  “No, maybe not,” he admitted.

  Still staring at the letter in her hand, Alicia realized she was chewing on a fingernail. A fingernail that had been manicured for her glossy congresswoman role. Whipping her hand away from her face, she folded the letter and put it back in the envelope with trembling hands. Her phone rang in her bag, sounding as if it were coming from a long way away. Heart pounding, half expecting it to be Colin, she was puzzled to see Melissa’s name on the screen. Her agent was the last person she expected to hear from right now.

  She answered the call, and Melissa’s harsh voice cracked out. “Hey, before you ask, no, this isn’t about an audition, and you’re not getting fired from your current gig.”

  Alicia blinked. “Okay. What is this about?”

  Her agent sighed. “I got a weird call today, and I almost decided not to pass it along. But I figured better to let you make your own decisions. Do you have a sister called Grace?”

  Ice water ran through Alicia’s veins. “Gracie?” Her voice was a tiny squeak.

  “You do have a sister? Seemed weird to me that a sister wouldn’t have your contact information, but it also seemed weird to me that in more than ten years you wouldn’t ever mention you had a sister. Yeah. I got a call from a Grace Johnson who claims to be your sister and wanted a way to get in touch with you.”

  Alicia simultaneously wanted to cry and to throw up. “Is she okay?” Her own voice sounded small and far away.

  “Seems like it. She said to tell you that she’s going to college and that she ‘left,’ whatever that means.”

  Her little sister. Her “Juliet.” On her own and getting an education. Alicia walked to the sofa and sat before her knees gave out. “Text me her contact information, please? As soon as you can?”

  “Sure thing,” Melissa said. “Glad this is an actual family reunion and not a scam. How’s the gig going?”

  Alicia inhaled, her hand on her belly, settling her jangling nerves. “Fine. Really liking the director. They canned the nude scene, by the way.”

  “What? Well, you’re still getting paid for it. I made sure that was in the contract. Never let it be said I don’t earn my percentage.”

  “Thanks, Melissa. Send that contact information, please. And thanks for calling.”

  Hanging up, Alicia stared at the opposite wall without seeing anything. Her phone chimed, and she saved her sister’s—Gracie’s—contact information. Her eyes drifted to the white envelope on the table.

  Only one other person in the world would know how much this meant to her.

  Mulling over Mari’s question, Colin’s phone buzzed. Excusing himself, he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. His heart stopped. A text from Alicia. The whole thing didn’t seem to be coming up on his lock screen, so he opened his messaging app.

  23

  That was it. The entire message.

  “Problem?” Brandon’s voice broke into his puzzled concentration.

  Colin looked up from the phone, frowning. “I don’t know. I just got a text from Alicia. But I don’t know what it means.”

  “What’s puzzling about it?” Mari asked, her hazel eyes alight with curiosity.

  “It’s just a number. Nothing else,” Colin said, looking again at the screen as if it would provide spontaneous context.

  “Do numbers have some sort of special meaning for you?” Mari asked.

  “I…don’t think so?” Colin stammered and stared at the screen as if an explanation would be forthcoming.

  “I don’t suppose it’s too much to ask that you just text her back?” Brandon asked, taking a sip of his drink.

  Mari elbowed him. “Colin should try to figure it out if he can.”

  Brandon shot a sarcastic look at his fiancée. “Because it’s a test?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “Because it’s communication. It’s like a video game. The context of the clue is almost as important as the clue itself.” She looked at Colin, her gaze unusually direct for Mari. “What was the last conversation you had? What did you say?”

  “We haven’t talked. I wrote her a letter,” Colin said, thinking over the laboriously constructed phrases, the deliberate and painful opening of his heart, the quotation…

  Electricity surged through him. Of course. He opened a web browser on his phone and entered a search. Shakespeare sonnet 23. His pulse starting to hammer, he began to read.

  As an unperfect actor on the stage,

  Who with his fear is put beside his part,

  Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

  Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;

  So I, for fear of trust, forget to say

  The perfect ceremony of love's rite,


  And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,

  O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.

  O! let my looks be then the eloquence

  And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,

  Who plead for love, and look for recompense,

  More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.

  O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:

  To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

  “I think I have to leave,” he said, looking up at Brandon and Mari. “Make my excuses if anyone asks for me, will you?”

  “Did you beat the boss level?” Mari asked, eyes shining.

  Colin heaved a shuddering breath. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I really think I might have done.”

  Alicia stared at her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, as if she could make those three pulsing dots that indicated a reply was being typed appear by willpower.

  Maybe his phone’s just off. Maybe he hasn’t gotten it.

  Maybe he’s already changed his mind.

  Putting her phone down on the coffee table, Alicia got up, twisting her neck from side to side and swinging her arms. She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and returned to the living room.

  Was that a message? She grabbed the phone and tapped the home button. Nothing. She must have seen the light reflecting off the glass surface, not the glow of a notification. She checked the volume. All the way up. So she should have heard the chime if she had received a message.

  Was I too obscure? The reference had seemed so obvious at the time. But now… She bit her lower lip, considered sending another message, decided against it.

  Maybe he has changed his mind. Putting the glass of water down untasted, she picked up the envelope. The postmark was from only two days before. Enough time to feel regret? Handwriting a letter wasn’t exactly a rash action, though. And if there was one thing that characterized Colin, it was self-control.