Chp 1
The bench had a generous space for two people, three if they decided to squeeze a little, but when I plopped down on it, most of it was filled. I stared at the tiny gap on my left, and though I smiled, I winced on the inside, feeling small and insecure.
I removed my iPad and tapped on it lightly with my Apple Pencil. It was sheathed in a large pencil case, and it made for a better writing experience since my fingers were meaty. I hated them, but again, there wasn’t much I could do about it. I tapped into the most recent movie I was watching and split my screen with Notes.
The movie was turning out to be another masterpiece. And those were hard to come by. Growing up, I realized early on that movies enraptured me more than anything could. The people who moved on the screen did so fluidly, and they conveyed the stories well.
The fact that it was all a lie and merely acting blew my mind. I couldn’t comprehend how they did it, and I finally concluded that they must be geniuses.
And they say that the truly great made you feel like you could be great too.
So I aspired to be like them, and with every year that passed, I made copious notes on every movie or TV show I came across that won my attention and respect. I wanted to know every little thing I could about them and realize my dreams one day to be like the actors I saw on the screen.
A click of the tongue.
I lifted my head, surprised at the sudden noise I heard.
In front of me was a man with a heavy backpack slung on one shoulder, a thick binder in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, and a shoe bag hanging off his pinky finger. His eyes darted around as he huffed in frustration, stepping back and forth.
I looked at my surroundings. Every other bench was seated with people, and I gathered that he was looking for a seat to put his things down since there was a brown spot blooming on his shirt, and he likely spilled his drink on himself and wanted to clean up. I then stared at the tiny gap at my side.
I could feel my cheeks heating up. The man eventually stopped at the bank of the lake, dropping his shoe bag onto the ledge, but it toppled over and fell into the water. He cried out, and I shot out of my seat to grab it.
Passing it to him, I sat on the ledge of the lake, and he did not so much as send me another look before he sat on the bench I had just left. I returned my attention to my iPad, watching the movie and taking notes, staring at the man now and then to ensure everything was all right. Before long, he left after settling a few things. I smiled, looking at my iPad.
I refused to sit on that bench ever again.
***
When mid-afternoon came rolling around, I got up from my seat on the ledge of the lake and made my way back home. There was a light breeze, much like the one in the movie I had just watched, and it made me feel like I was the actress in it.
Acting.
It was my passion.
I signed up for lessons as soon as I saved up from working part-time at a diner, and I embarked on the journey of realizing my dreams. I glanced down at my pudgy belly and sighed.
I knew that it would be a tough journey since I was far from the ideal standards show business placed on celebrities, but I refused to let that prevent me from reaching my ambitions.
I clenched my fists and nodded absently to myself in affirmation. Yes, I would become an actress on my merits.
I had already given up so much for it.
I walked down the pavement, and as the path opened up to a park, I saw a few people gathered around a huge camera, their lanyards around their necks, their hands holding microphones. They were observing the people around them as they talked, and their eyes soon fell on me.
One woman pointed a finger at me, and I stopped in my tracks, thinking that they might need some help. They smiled, came over, and pushed the microphone under my face as the camera panned to me.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
The woman continued to smile. “Hello, we’re from the local news, here to interview for job satisfaction. Can you answer some questions for us?”
This was not how I envisioned my debut on television. Not at all.
“Sure,” I said nervously, smiling at the camera sweetly.
“First, what is your job?” the woman asked.
“Oh, I am an aspiring actress,” I said, and immediately a hush fell on the people within earshot. The woman’s mouth fell open in shock as her co-workers either gasped or covered their mouths.
“Did you say an actress?” the woman clarified.
“Yes,” I said.
“Like being on a TV show or starring in an actual movie?” the woman asked, disbelief on her face.
“Yes,” I said. “Like Angelina Jolie.”
“Like Angelina Jolie?”
I stared at her. What was she not understanding? I was slightly frustrated, but I wanted to make myself clearer. Was I not delivering my point well?
“Exactly like Angelina Jolie,” I said, and the next thing that happened answered my question.
Was it something I said? I stood in the ring of cameras, and snorts of derision and disbelief fell around me like bad omens.
One man spoke above the snorts. “What jobs have you done?”
I smiled sadly, remembering the circumstances I found myself in.
“It’s been very hard to get an acting job for someone like me. People want skinny, beautiful, and I’m just me. I can act well, but as it stands, in public opinion, looks trump over talent always.”
The man smiled kindly, and the group moved on to flash their lights on another man’s face. I sighed and kept going toward my destination. Glancing at my wristwatch, I gasped and hurried my steps, hoping not to be late. Producers hated it when you were late to a reading and, most times, skipped you for the next person if you were.
