My blood is pumping faster now as I walk toward the door, desperately trying (and failing) not to get my hopes up. How many monthshave I spent fantasizing about Jesse turning up on my porch and telling me he loves me too, that this has all been a terrible mistake?
I often picture the scene in the rain, but maybe that’s just because I’ve consumed too many rom-coms.
With a shaky hand, I push open the trailer door. The man standing on the steps in front of me is wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, and a headset. He stares up at me with wide, brown eyes. My heart dips.Not Jesse. Just a set PA. Of course it is.
Even after all this time, I still can’t convince my brain to let go of these ridiculous fantasies. Grand gestures don’t exist in real life. If there’s one thing acting has taught me, it’s that real life is nothing like the movies. The heroes we love so dearly only exist on the screen. No knight in shining armor is coming to sweep me off my feet. In the real world, the only person who can save us is ourselves.
“Marissa! Err, I mean, Miss Morgan. Sorry about that.” He bites down on his bottom lip, doing his best to hide his mortification. “They’re ready for you on set.”
I nod. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
I shut the door and then close my eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s time to get into a professional headspace. We’re filming a big scene today, where Felix’s mom (aka me) ventures into the underground world for the first time and discovers the parallel universe that looks like a mirror version of the real world. I need to get her reaction just right and I can’t do it if I’m on the verge of tears. Besides, I shouldn’t waste any more tears on a man who has probably already forgotten that I exist.
I count to ten slowly, then school my features into a confident smile. Then I step out of the trailer, shutting the door, and any lingering thoughts of Jesse, firmly behind me.
“We’re rolling!” The sound of Lina’s voice immediately fills me with confidence. There hasn’t been a single day on set that I haven’tbeen overwhelmed with gratitude that she’s been able to direct this project. She’s approached this story so thoughtfully and is unfailingly collaborative. Alix Levy, the book’s author, is on board as an executive producer, and I know that her input will ensure this adaptation satisfies fans.
I grab hold of my movie son’s hand. Elliot, the actor who is portraying Felix, is also neurodivergent, and we’ve bonded during the past month we’ve worked together. Since we were able to film in LA, I haven’t had to spend too much time away from the kids, and our nanny has even brought them to set a few times. It turns out that I had been needlessly concerned about balancing my roles as a parent and an actress. Everyone on set has been respectful of my children’s privacy. And watching the look of admiration on their faces when they see their mom at work only makes the experience sweeter.
Together, Elliot and I descend the set’s staircase and enter the subterranean world. There are dozens of extras milling around us, all dressed as slight variations of people from the above world. The whole vibe reminds me ofCoraline, but less sinister.
Elliot points out all the different shadows of our town—the mirrored version of his school and the houses that surround it, whose details are oddly, if subtly, subverted. Together, we walk to a shopping center across the street, and he leads me into a café.
“See, Mom,” Elliot as Felix says softly. “I told you. It’s just like the Terracotta Café, but different.”
A camera zooms into my wide-eyed expression before the extra playing a hostess leads us to a table. Once seated, I glance around at the surrounding patrons, conveying my awe that the alternative universe my son has been telling me about for months is real.
“Welcome. Can I get you started with waters?”
I glance up at the server who’s standing in front of me, pitcher in hand, and my mouth falls open. His stormy blue eyes meet mygaze and one corner of his mouth, framed by perfectly tidy scruff, lifts in a tiny smile. For the first time since I stepped on set, no acting is necessary; any shock the camera is catching is entirely genuine.
A beat passes and from several feet away, I hear Lina clear her throat.Right.My line. My brain scrambles to come up with it, but it seems all cognitive function has frozen.
Ever the professional, Elliot swoops in to save me.
“It’s okay, Mom,” he prods. “The water is safe to drink.” Right. The water. We’re currently on set, filming a scene.
With effort, I tear my eyes away from Jesse and level my gaze at my fake son.
“Are you sure?” I ask. It doesn’t take much to imbue my voice with uncertainty. Without trying, it’s already carrying a slight wobble.
He gives me a sweet smile. “Only one way to find out.”
Hot tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I furiously blink them away. I glance back up at Waiter Jesse and he gives me a barely perceptible nod. The gears in my head have started turning again, but my thoughts are too scrambled to have any real meaning.
I blink away the threatening tears as I return Jesse’s smile.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s take a risk.”
Jesse’s grin widens just as Lina yells, “Cut.”
She’s by my side in a moment, pulling off her headset and draping it around her neck.
“That was great,” she says. “I could really feel your shock in that moment. But I do want to take that scene again, if you don’t mind. I think it’s important that you deliver your original line, where you ask your son if the water is safe. Asking him and then taking his word for it is a pivotal moment in establishing your faith in him.”
I nod. “Absolutely. Um… do you mind if I take five?”
Her brow furrows. “We just got started. Is everything okay?”
