by Carla Hanna
Sage sent some texts and tied up the plastic bag of puke like it was a baby’s dirty diaper. I wondered if Sage had any kids. I knew she was married. I got an email or several emails from her each day, every day. She was more than my manager, she was my crutch. I trusted her but she definitely was a professional who worked for me. We didn’t confide in each other—ever. I was shocked that I never asked about her family.
“I’m sorry I don’t know tons about you. Do you have kids, Sage?”
She smiled at me and then simply said, “You’re my boss. I’m your employee. You have enough on your plate that you don’t have to worry about me, too. I have two boys and a great husband. I love my family and my job. I will always be thankful that your dad hired me. I’m grateful that you give me every Friday afternoon off so I can pray at my mosque. And you pay me very well, thank you.”
She patted me on the shoulder and lifted me up to a standing position. I repositioned my stilettos.
“Ready?” She asked.
“Yeah.” I sighed. I was sure I could make it to the limo.
I stopped to pose with my Oscar and then Byron. I endured the gauntlet of photographers with the protection of our bodyguards. I gave the Oscar to Sage, wishing she could unzip me from the tight dress so I could breathe. I got in the limo and waited for Byron. The door closed behind him, and I felt a wave of relief flow through me.
“You did it, babe! I thought you were going to go into shock. Damn, you’re one hell of an actress.” Byron put his arm around me and kissed my cheek.
I shifted away from him and removed my shoes. My feet were throbbing. “Thanks, Byron. I suffer from stage fright. I sure didn’t want to win tonight. But it’s good for the Muse brand, bad for the Marie Michael brand.”
“Yeah, thanks for being so awesome. I get paid $100,000 for my role in this project and then will make millions because you win the Oscar for best actress. Now everyone will see Constantine’s Muse. You just made my career. Thanks.”
I joked, “Byron, ya know it’s your agent, manager, publicist, stylist, trainer, lawyer and bartender who will get most of that.”
The mention of a bartender immediately made Byron pour himself a drink from the bar and light a cigarette. Byron was a chimney.
I really felt for him. He probably couldn’t quit acting for another five years with the contracts to which he was bound, and he was a walking time bomb of self-destruction. He had no handle on the fame. He repeated the same story about himself to everyone he met and, after he was smashed an hour later, told the same story again. He probably thought people cared but would soon learn that nobody did. He’d soon learn to trust no one.
~ PROM PLANS ~
I fumbled through the bag left for me in the limo and found my cell phone. Dad and Celia sent a text praising me. I texted a return thanks. I called Manuel.
“Bueno,” he answered. He and his father said ‘bueno’ instead of ‘hola’ and I never truly understood why. He said it was just a greeting and didn’t mean “good” in context.
“Hey, Manuel,” I said as I closed my eyes, instantly feeling relief from hearing my best friend’s voice, feeling loved.
“You did it. My mom cried, ya know. Thanks for thanking us.”
“Ugh, I wanted to die. It was excruciating.” My lungs constricted just thinking about the stress.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know. Just keep in mind that you did it. You’re awesome.”
“Thanks.” I sighed, ready to change the subject. “Byron and I are heading back to San Diego. So what are you going to do tonight?”
“I’m going out on a double date with Alan to some fight, I guess. Alan is paying. He got a driver so it should be an easy date.”
Alan Goldberg, my producer’s son and our classmate—when I went to classes—was a compelling jerk, one of those mega rich guys who was the life of the party, knew everyone, treated girls as whores, made enormous social errors, and then apologized sincerely for being an ass. He was scrawny, only a few inches taller than me, and completely un-athletic.
All of us had sworn off our friendship with him and yet we all somehow forgave him. Each time we forgave him, we felt like fools and the cycle continued. Now that we were seniors in high school, with the exception of me at work most of the time, we finally gave up trying to exclude him since the effort was futile anyway.
“I thought you’d never get set up again with Alan. I mean, you’re on the seventh girl you thought was a slut and moved too fast for you.” I had counted.
“They are all so vacant. I just can’t deal with anyone I’ve dated since Kate. But Alan set me up with that cute girl I like from Brentwood when I called him to get her number. Her name is Trish. She goes to the school where Beth’s dad teaches. Tuition there is $32,000 per year, for a high school! That’s so insane! I asked Beth’s dad about her.” He sighed. “Beth and I got into a huge fight this morning. Anyway, Trish doesn’t take his classes, but she’s really smart and plays classical guitar and piano. She’s a singer. She’ll probably think I’m a total loser but I gotta try, right? So, Alan’s taking Sherry since she knows her.”
My heart sank but I tried my best to sound supportive, “You're trying to impress a girl by taking her out on a Sunday night with Alan? Are you mental? Take her out to Malibu and have a stroll on the beach. Please, Manuel, don’t take her out with an asshole and his slut to a fight!”
“I can’t. I don’t have a car. What am I gonna do? Ride the bus to Brentwood to pick her up on my bike?”
“No. Wait a second. Take my car. It’s in the garage at my house,” I urged and then felt stupid for giving him the means to have a successful date.
He laughed. “You’re really trying hard to get this girl to like me. Thanks, I guess, my little match-maker, but no. Alan has it all set up.”
“Well, okay. Tell me how it goes.”
“I will. I hope I like her. She’s cute and smart and there sure aren’t many girls like that. I figured I’d ask her to prom if we click. I’m running out of time.”
“It’d be a bummer to miss prom,” I confirmed. It was early, at the end of March, because of all the budget cuts in the public schools. The administration had to cut off several weeks of school. Every senior had to do two independent study projects to make up for the lack of education. I was worried that I’d miss prom if Byron kept messing up and delaying the schedule.
Manuel sounded shocked. “Are you going?”
“Yeah, my mom said I’d regret not going. Don’t tell anyone, but I paid for renting out the Getty Mansion off the PCH for the school so we could go there—my donation this year. Alan asked me to go with him, but I figured I’d ask someone once I knew for sure that we’d wrap by then. Otherwise, I told Alan that I’ll drive down that afternoon and go with his group and then come back to the set the next morning.”
Byron interrupted, “I want you to ask me to your prom, babe.”
I laughed. “I guess I already have a taker.”
Manuel interrupted, “I’m mad. You should’ve told me. We could have gone together. I’ve been wasting all this time looking for a girl to ask to prom and could have gone with you? Damn, Marie.”
“I’m sorry. I just figured you wanted a real date since you have to go. If I said I go with you and then couldn’t and you get crowned then what, you’d go to prom by yourself? I mean, what prom king does that?”
“Marie, I’m not going to be prom king. Sam will be. Kate will be queen. We broke up. Sure I was nominated, but I’m a geek. Kate’s the popular girl. Sam’s a dude.” Manuel paused. “Listen, I like Trish. I’ll ask her to prom if we click. If we don’t, will you be my date? If you can’t go, I’ll go by myself in Alan’s group. Deal?”
“Sure, yeah. But don’t you want a romantic prom or something?”
“Yeah, but... So we have a plan?” Manuel grumbled.
I agreed, “Yeah. Cool. Will we be doubling with Beth and Mitch?”
“No. I…I kissed Beth today. She’s beyond angry wi
th me.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, I’m gonna deal with this one myself. So, let’s not talk about it.”
I didn’t know what to say. I swallowed. My insides ached as I lost another piece of ‘me’.
At that moment, Marie Michael determined that she was not going to give loving Manuel another thought. Mom said the key to happiness was acceptance of what you cannot change. Marie had to stop wishing for something impossible and deal with life as it was, not as she wanted it to be. She or me—whoever—had to accept that Manuel loved me as his sister and make the most out of the fact that Marie Michael was, and would continue to be, an actor.
“Anyway, I should go. I love you, Marie. You rock.”
The-Artist-Formerly-Known-as-I ended abruptly, “Okay. Bye.”
~ OSCAR TRAPPINGS ~
Marie Michael did it. After a week of anxiety it was over. Sage had my Oscar. Whoever I was did not feel the pride appropriate for the honor. I felt the relief from the pressure. I just desperately wanted to get out of my dress and put the whole experience behind me.
“Byron, don’t get any ideas but please unzip me. I’ve got to get out of this dress before it suffocates me.”
“Sure, but I always have ideas. Your lips, just…wow, and your body…mmm.”
“Byron. Just treat me like your little sister and don’t try anything. I warn you, my driver will kick your ass. Please?”
I turned my back to him and lifted my hair off my back. He pulled at the zipper. I added, “It’s sewn closed. Rip it.”
He tried. He reached for the bar. “Maybe the bottle opener will work.” He tried again and asked, “So are you dating Manny?”
“No.”
“I’ve seen you look at him. The only time you’ve blown your lines was when he was on the set last fall. You think he’s hot; so why the best friend bullshit?”
“It’s not bull. We’ve been best friends since we’ve been in diapers.”
“Marie, I look at you and see a woman who needs a hug and a friend. I can give you that comfort.”
I wanted Byron that way, especially since Trish would be falling in love with Manuel even though he loved Beth, not me. I could feel my eyes water and worried that I was going to break down in tears if I said anything to him.
Of course Byron noticed. “Oh, Marie, don’t cry.” He stopped ripping the threads, moved next to me, and held me as I cried. He didn’t try to kiss me.
“Byron, please just unzip me. Honestly I didn’t need friends before this messed-up month. You’re right that I’m lonely.” I wiped my tears with my hand. “But I can barely breathe in this dress. I’m suffocating.”
He unzipped me, handed me a tissue, and poured himself another drink. I inhaled deeply and unwound. I changed while he told stories about his glorious high school days. With my t-shirt covering me, I pulled the tape off my ribs and breast. I was free of all my Oscar trappings. I could breathe.
Byron noticed that I relaxed again and put his arm around me but was careful not to push me. “Babe, it must be pretty cool to have an Oscar. You can do whatever you want now with your career. What do you think you’ll do?”
I gawped at him, puzzled. I didn’t know what he was talking about.
He explained, “Now you control what projects you want to take on. You’ll now be a member of the Academy. You get to choose, not your mommy, doll. You’ve proven yourself.”
I confessed, “My mommy is in charge of my career. I’ve entertained ideas of being in charge, but could I be, really?”
“Yes, absolutely, babe. You’re a spider. You’re in charge now.”
I smiled. A feeling of heaviness lifted from me. I floated on a web.
“So, Byron, who were you in Australia? What were you like before all this fame?”
Byron was a nice guy and loved his family. He is the youngest of four kids. He missed his brothers but missed his sister the most. His parents just celebrated their forty-year anniversary, and he was mad that he couldn’t make it to the celebration.
He talked and talked and had just started to repeat one of his stories when we got back to the San Diego set.
~ NOT ANOTHER TAKE! ~
It was Thursday. We were several hours behind schedule. The scene was supposed to take place at dusk, but the end of dusk passed long ago and was replaced by yellow floodlights. We did at least thirty takes of a complex scene. Most directors would shoot short takes, but Richard wanted to capture it as a flowing conversation between the queen, Muse and Constantine, creating a sense of union between the three individuals that he didn’t think he could accomplish in editing the short takes. He was a director who ventured on that fine line between boring his audience with more than a minute on the same actors in the same scene. Most directors focused on an actor for no more than 30 seconds. He was particularly challenged with Byron since he had very few lines.
In the scene, Constantine enters Rome as the victorious ruler of the Roman Empire in the West. It is the year 312 AD. His queen mother begs him to favor the Christian church, which is a minority group in Western Europe and had been severely persecuted under previous Roman rule. He is popular and successful and knows that accepting Christianity would put him in a risky political situation in the West but improves his political aspirations of conquering the East. Christianity is already popular in the Eastern Empire, in Byzantium, but he had yet to conquer it and wouldn’t until 324 AD, at the end of the film.
Byron was either massively unprepared or completely vacant. Richard yelled at him to understand Constantine’s motivation. “You’re an asshole. Your mom is telling you to embrace Christian ideals and you just want to leverage Christianity so you can take over Byzantium. You’re nervous your buddies in Gaul are gonna bail on you. You still need lots of slaves to fight your battles and support the Rome Empire. It was nice to enslave Christians, Goths, non-Roman citizens and criminals. It supported your economy. It’s a slippery slope. You see the advantage of Christianity. You want to please your sweet mommy. Muse explains your out. You adopt Christianity and compassion and you get everything you want. No more Christians get tortured and killed in the West, you make your mom happy, you get political treaties in the East for becoming a Christian, and everyone wins.
Byron yelled, “Okay, shit, I got it.”
We all went back to our positions and he didn’t have it. After another thirty minutes, Richard was done.
“Cut! Sara! Rewrite the scene—set it during the day this time. Give Marie all his lines. He’s going to nod and look soulful, if he can manage that!” Richard shouted.
We all broke for dinner.
My completely annoying assistant brought me my cell phone, a bag of nuts, and a bottled water. I immediately read Manuel’s text asking me if he could borrow my car to take Trish out on their second date. I texted back with a ‘yes’ even though I was absolutely boiling over inside with jealousy.
I was frustrated with being an actor, having no life—angry with everyone. I could hear a pin drop from the silence as we headed to the costuming trailer to get out of our painful garments.
Manuel texted back a thanks. They’d go out after her performance that night. I just shook my head to myself as we walked.
I’d be going to prom with Alan’s group. There was no chance I’d go with Byron with how much he aggravated me. Then I thought about it more. Why not take Byron? I needed to move on, have friends. Watching Manuel date Trish was going to be as painful as when he and Kate fell in love.
Byron tried to talk to Renee. “I’m sorry you’re so pissed. I just get flustered when I have to remember so much.”
Renee sneered at him. “I have commitments. Marie wants to go to her prom. I expect professionalism. Time is money. We’re already so behind schedule. Run lines a thousand times a day so you can do your job. Stop drinking and screwing girls and get to work!”
“Marie, will you run lines with me?”
“No. Work with Sara when she’s done with the new script.”
>
“Please, Marie. I do everything right when she and I run lines. I only blow everything because when I look at you my mind goes blank. I get struck each time I get near you.”
Renee interrupted. “Don’t blame this on her. It’s your job to control yourself.”
“But it’s true. I’m in love with you Marie and I can’t think straight when I’m around you!” Byron left us and headed over to Clyde, the assistant director, to talk about his failings.
Renee eyeballed me as we entered the costume trailer. She asked, “What is it about you? Evan was in love with you, too. My nephew is careful to fall in love, but he does with you. You two were a perfect couple, perfect. And your relationship: nothing. Byron can’t think and it’s hurting the project. Are you a tease, Marie?”
“What? No! I just don’t want to sleep with them. I just want to date, kiss and hold hands.”
“Darling, in this business, there’s no middle ground. You either hang out with your girlfriends or you screw your boyfriends. There is no kissing and holding hands.” She eased up and put her arm around me. “I know; you’re so young. But that is just the way it is. You can’t have friendships with men.”
I said nothing as I got out of my dress, hurting Franz’s feelings somehow, but not taking on any responsibility for his sensitivity. I was so mad that I couldn’t even get out of my corset without someone’s help, furious that I was surrounded by people all the time but was completely alone.
I stormed out of the trailer to get my dinner and ate it at an unoccupied table, mad that men were so damn shallow and angry that I didn’t have any girlfriends.
I went back to my trailer and threw my iPhone against the wall, disappointed that it didn’t break.
~ LEARNING LINES ~