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They sip at their Bloody Mary’s while I flip through the script. The only sound is the paper scraping as I turn each page. After three minutes of scanning scenes, I look up and go against what I’ve just said. “I can’t do this.”
“Like I said, we can change the sex—”
“No,” I say, cutting him off. “I can’t do any of this. I was stupid to think I could be an actress. I’m a teacher, and not even a very interesting one according some of the emails I get from viewers. You have to find someone else.”
“We’ll be with you every step of the way,” Sarah says.
Cory scooches up next to me on the sofa. Places his hand on my leg. “I never would have asked you if I didn’t believe you can do this.”
The panic is still firmly stuck in my throat, but I nod. I don’t agree with Cory, but at the same time, I don’t put the script down either. For the rest of the morning, we read through lines, Sarah coaching me and giving me tips to loosen up and ‘get outside myself’, as she puts it. Just before lunchtime, when Lizzie finally walks in bleary-eyed and complaining about how starving she is, Cory’s phone buzzes and our plans of getting me ready are tossed out as quickly as Lizzie rejects Cory’s offer of boiled eggs.
“Shit. Really?” He looks at his watch. “Yeah. I got it. We’ll be right there.”
He hangs up and looks at me. On his face is the same fear a boy might wear before admitting to his mother that he broke the window by playing ball in the house.
“Apparently when I put off filming for three days, I got the dates mixed up.”
I’m shaking my head, because it’s not hard to fill in the blanks of where he’s headed with this. “Don’t tell me that—”
“The crew’s all there. Waiting to film. We can blow them off, but every day we waste is money we can’t afford.” He reaches out to hold my hand. Sarah grabs the other. “I know you don’t feel ready, but sometimes you just gotta leap.”
A deep breath fills my chest with shaky uncertainty. He’s right: I’m far from ready. But this feels less like a leap of faith and more like I’m being pushed into the deep end of the pool. But maybe it’s better this way. Otherwise I’m just going to make myself sick
with anxiety all night.
Three hours later, after make-up, lighting tests, and wardrobe fittings, we’re ready for the first scene. Which, of course, is a sex scene. At least this one is with Cory.
Hello, deep end of the pool. It's me, Augusta.
The set is a room-sized box inside a warehouse with lighting racks and microphones hanging in the air above us. It’s made out to look like a ritzy hotel room, which I’m sure will be convincing enough on screen, but all I see are the silhouettes offstage, the cameras setting up, and the bustle of a workplace.
Wearing a robe since all I have on underneath is sheer lingerie that does less to cover me than well-placed shadows, I deliver the bad news to Lizzie.
“Mommy’s gotta work now.”
She nods with excitement. Like she’s a dog and I’ve just announced my plans to go for a walk. “I know!”
I really should have spoken to her about this sooner, but it’s not like I knew exactly how dark this script was going to be. Her eyes are far too young to be taking in images of her mother pretending to have sex on camera. As I blanch at the thought of my own mother in my position, I change my mind; no one’s eyes should see their mother do what I’m about to do.
“You need to go with Joan. She’s going to take you to this awesome ice cream place.”
My frozen dairy bribe fails against Lizzie’s resolute determination to be a part of this.
“I don’t want ice cream. I want to watch you.”
You really don’t, I think to myself. But while we’ve had a semblance of the sex talk, I’m not about to explain what this first scene entails. It was hard enough to describe things when my weak explanations were accompanied by generic diagrams in a book. I’m not about to put even more traumatizing images in my daughter’s head. I’d rather be the bad guy right now rather than scar her for years to come.
“Maybe you can watch another day, but this is mommy’s first time and I need to focus.”
Now Lizzie’s pouting. “I know. That’s why I have to be here.” She hugs me and says, “You need me here for immoral support.”
I’m 100% positive she meant to say ‘moral support’, but this slip of her young mind makes me melt all the more. I’m just about to give in when Sarah shows up.
“If you’re not in the mood for ice cream, perhaps we could take a tour of the studio.”
“Joan already showed me around the studio,” Lizzie says. “And I want to watch.”
“Oh,” Sarah comes back with. “Joan showed you around the Kid Ninja Course?”
