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The week passes quickly. Ellen invites me out most nights, but I decline. From the way she talks, I can tell she's not exactly a bastion of moderation.
I talk to Luke for a few minutes before bed every night. We're both too tired to say much, but it feels so good to hear his voice.
I spend the weekend rehearsing in my apartment. I know Luke would mock me or tell me I work too hard, but he doesn't understand how out of my league I am. I was in a few plays when I first moved to Los Angeles, but it's been years since I've seriously done any theater.
When I finally call it a night, I realize I haven't eaten dinner. I barely ate lunch. But it's nothing. No big deal. I've done enough recovery that I don't have to obsess over every single thing I eat or don't eat.
Come Monday morning, I am ready to kick ass and take names. I get to the theater half an hour early, bursting with energy. I am finally up to speed. Finally where I want to be. I understand Blanche--she lost everything she cared about. Her secretly gay husband killed himself after she caught him with another man. She's an outcast, but she denies it to herself, hiding behind a veneer of superiority. She claims to put great value in sexual roles and manners, but it's a lie she tells herself, to help herself understand why life failed her so utterly. She's insecure, desperate, terrified of losing her only value in the world--her beauty.
The only thing that lifts her up is attention from men. It doesn't just make her giddy. It reaffirms her belief that she deserves to exist.
People read Blanche as weak, as pathetic sometimes. But she's not. She's a woman in an awful situation, doing everything she can to hold it together. But her real self keeps sneaking out.
I put everything into rehearsals and the director praises my dedication. I'm proving my competence. Finally.
Ellen keeps me busy all night. We go to an amazing restaurant in the village, swig way too many cocktails, and meet her weird, artsy friends for an off-off Broadway play. The star is great, one of Ellen's ex-boyfriends. We meet him for drinks after the play and he picks my brain about acting in Los Angeles.
Ellen insults him. It's traitorous to even think of moving to L.A. Talking about it is practically treason.
It's beyond late when I get home. So late I forget to call Luke.
CHAPTER TEN
Luke
I think nothing of it when we miss our first call. We were never going to make it six months talking every single day.
But it eats at me all night. I bury myself at work. I run until I'm dead tired. I clean the damn house to keep my mind occupied.
Finally, sometime around ten, Alyssa texts me.
Give me one minute. I want to get into something comfortable.
I bite my lip. I'm going to have a miserable time resisting her if she goes straight to dirty talk and slipping her clothes off. But I have to be strong. She needs to talk.
I open my laptop and accept the incoming chat invitation.
The video pops on-screen. It's a little box of Alyssa, in her bedroom, in that giant bed. She's wearing a tiny tank top and it clings to every one o
f her curves. She smiles, catching me checking her out.
"Ah, so this is what it feels like to be you," she says.
"It is."
"This is so weird. I can't even remember the last time I did a video chat." Her voice is slightly slurred, like she's had a few drinks.
"I'm not sure that I ever have."
"Like you didn't have some college girlfriend who begged to see you naked over break," she says.
I shake my head. "You're the only girl I'd ever get naked on camera for."
She blushes and bites her lip. "I really, um, enjoyed that um... video you sent me."
"Enjoyed, huh?"
She giggles. "I did enjoy it."
