Ah, we have ourselves a charmer.“You look so familiar,” Itold him, releasing his hand so I could set my purse down on an empty chair.
“In our line of work, I suppose that’s a good thing,” he joked, his dimples firing on all cylinders. They made him look even younger.
“What have I seen you in?” I blurted before I could stop myself, then instantly regretted it. An audition room really wasn’t the place to play the résumé guessing game.
A couple of seconds of dead air went by as he hesitated, a muscle twitching in his cheek, and now I doubly regretted my impulsivity.Why are you interrogating him? He’s already been cast; you’re the one who needs to prove yourself.
“I’ve been in a variety of things, as I’m sure you have,” he finally answered with one eyebrow raised pointedly, andyep, I’ve definitely botched my first impression right out of the gate. “We’ll have to compare credits later. Did you want to go over the scene at all before we start?”
I seized on the subject change. “Nope, I’m ready to go.” I flashed him a winning smile before aiming it over at the table of casting directors, an overprepared eager beaver.Look how easy I am to work with!
Ryder slid his eyes to Nate, who frowned before shrugging his shoulders in response, and the smile froze on my face as I realized my mistake. The other actresses must have workshopped the scene, taking the opportunity to run through it with Ryder before jumping right in, andduh, I’m sure that would have been helpful.Scarlett, you idiot. I felt my stomach sink to my shoes.Strike two.
Welp, now there was nothing left to do but wow them, and I was going for broke. At this point, I had nothing to lose.
I took my spot at the front of the room against a dark blue backdrop while Ryder stood a few paces away, in my eyeline but just off camera. Once everyone was situated, I took a deep breath, shaking off the missteps of the last few minutes and thinking of nothing but this character, this scene, and this moment: Holden’s shocking reappearance and desperate plea, their passionate fight and Melody’s heartbreaking confession, followed by their mutual declaration of love against all odds.
I locked in on Ryder’s face, waited for his reassuring nod, and began.
What followed was several minutes of pure magic.
It was a rare experience, and difficult to explain to people outside the business, but there were times when I was performing that I got so deep into character that it felt like I actuallybecamesomeone else. I embodied this other person so completely that I forgot my surroundings, forgot to be self-conscious, forgot to care about who was evaluating me and whether I was succeeding or failing. It was euphoric, when I felt the purest sense that I was right where I belonged, that this was the job I was meant to do.A role I was born to play.
I gave Melody’s impassioned speech, lamenting life’s cruel twists of fate and confessing her love for Holden, breaking both of their hearts in the process. I delivered the monologue flawlessly, and by the end, I was no longer Scarlett and he was no longer Ryder. He was Holden and I was Melody, his great love.
“All you have to do is say yes,” Ryder pleaded, his voice strangled, and I vaguely registered that he’d left his mark off-camera and was now upon me, his thumbs brushing tears from my cheeks.
“I can’t,” I whispered brokenly, clasping his hand where it cradled my face, our foreheads bowed together and touching.
End of scene.
It was like being jarred from a dream when Nate’s voice broke in. “Incredible job, you two.”
I turned and blinked in his direction, dazed, and as my eyes came into focus, I saw he was grinning. Actually, I’d describe it more as beaming at us like a deranged circus clown.
I gently released Ryder’s hand and took a shaky step back, still coming down from the post-performance high. He sent a small, satisfied smile in Nate’s direction, though his eyes never left my face.
I was slightly out of breath, my cheeks still wet with tears, a pit of angst from the raw, emotionally charged dialogue still lodged in my stomach.I hope they don’t think I got too carried away, that my interpretation of the scene was over the top. I went to dig in my bag for a tissue but Nate beat me to it, jumping up and handing me one himself. It wasn’t until my gaze passed over the casting directors that I saw they were using some of their own.
I braved another glance at Ryder, and his expression seemed to mirror mine: wide-eyed and slightly stunned, and a little haunted, like even he was surprised by what just happened. It was a relief—if I got carried away, then he was right there with me.
After a little more chitchat and assurances that I’d be hearing from them—as well as, I noted optimistically, several questions about my availability over the next few months—Ryder volunteered to walk me to the door. When we got there, he surprised me by pulling me in for a hug.
The embrace was more intimate than a polite, perfunctoryNice to meet youhug, but not in an awkward way. Actually, I was surprised by how natural it felt. Performing emotional scenes had a way of bonding you, and I could tell Ryder was as shell-shocked by the experience as I was. We may as well have been to war together.
I leaned into the hug, going up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He smelled fresh and woodsy, like the forest after a spring rain. “Not bad, huh? How do you like my chances?”
He squeezed me in answer, then whispered back, soft enough that no one else could hear, “It’s yours to lose.”
And I knew then: If there was any justice in the world, I would land this part.
3
Now
From the backseat of the town car, I roll down the window and take a deep lungful of briny Charleston air. Despite the decade that’s passed, that signature Lowcountry smell—marsh mixed with salt water—is one memory time hasn’t managed to dull. My hair hasn’t forgotten the humidity, either; I can already feel it frizzing out, wayward strands winging in all directions. We exit the city and continue out toward the coast, sidewalks turning to sand and buildings giving way to a canopy of live oaks pleached overhead. As their twisting branches tunnel us toward Seafolly, I can’t help but feel like I’m time-traveling into my past.
I haven’t been back to South Carolina since we wrappedThe Lost Letter.It was a conscious choice I made all those years ago, to lock up my memories of that time and throw away the key. It was an act of self-preservation, necessary to pull myself back from the brink, and a decision I never planned on revisiting. Part of me hasn’t even accepted that I’m here now.
