The Part
There were three actors in the room and no camera.
Celia preferred it that way when she was still deciding what a scene was.
The set had not been built. Production had brought in a table approximately the right size, three chairs that would never appear in the picture, and a glass pitcher because the scene required one.
The pitcher was wrong.
Celia left it.
The scene was six pages.
A woman had invited her brother and his wife to dinner. The brother had sold something that belonged to all three of them and had not told her until afterward.
Nothing in the scene said she was angry.
Everyone who read it knew she was.
Celia sat against the wall with the script closed on her lap.
“From the door.”
They began.
The brother came in first. His wife followed. The woman who owned the house remained at the table.
They reached page three before Celia stopped them.
“What are you doing?”
The actress at the table looked at her.
“Trying not to get angry.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t want him to know how much it matters.”
“That’s information.”
The actress waited.
Celia pointed to the pitcher.
“What do you want?”
“From him?”
“From anything.”
The actress thought.
“I want to throw that at him.”
“No.”
The actress smiled.
“No?”
“You’ve had three pages. If you wanted to throw it, you’d have thrown it.”
One of the other actors laughed.
Celia looked at him.
He stopped.
She turned back to the woman.
“What do you want?”
“I want him to stop talking.”
Celia considered it.
“Try that.”
They went back to the door.
The brother talked.
His sister interrupted him before the bottom of the first page.
Celia raised a hand.
“I thought—”
“I know.”
She looked at the actress.
“Want him to stop. Don’t make him stop.”
They began again.
This time she let him talk.
By the second page her attention had narrowed around his mouth.
Celia said nothing.
They kept going.
On page four the brother reached for the pitcher.
It was not in the stage direction.
He poured for his sister first. The pitcher was heavier than he expected, and he filled her glass too high.
The water rose almost to the rim.
His sister stopped speaking.
He looked at the glass.
Then at her.
“Sorry.”
Celia leaned forward.
“Keep going.”
They did.
At the bottom of page five came the line everyone had been talking about since the first table read.
The actress approached it carefully.
Celia stopped her.
“You’re waiting for it.”
“I know it’s coming.”
“So do we.”
The actress looked down at the page.
Celia looked around the room.
The woman’s napkin had fallen beside her chair.
“Leave that there.”
“The napkin?”
“Yes.”
“What do I do with it?”
“Want it.”
The actress laughed.
Celia didn’t.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“I don’t want the napkin.”
“Then don’t.”
Celia opened the script.
“From his apology.”
The brother began.
The napkin remained beside the woman’s shoe.
She looked at it once.
Her brother continued.
She looked again.
She could have reached it without leaving the chair.
She didn’t.
The brother moved into the apology.
The actress said the line.
Quietly.
Celia let the silence remain after it.
“Again.”
They did it again.
This time the actress looked at the napkin once.
“Again.”
The third time she never looked at it.
She knew where it was.
Celia’s pencil moved against the margin.
“Again.”
The brother went back.
The actress listened.
The napkin remained where it was.
Halfway through the apology Celia stopped writing.
The woman’s left hand was under the table.
It rested flat against the wood.
Celia watched it.
The actress saw where she was looking.
She pulled the hand out.
“Sorry.”
Celia looked up at her.
“Why?”
The actress glanced at the others.
“I don’t know.”
“Put it back.”
The actress slid her hand beneath the table.
She moved it once along the wood.
Then looked at Celia.
“No,” Celia said.
The actress brought it out.
“What was I doing?”
Celia looked at the place where the hand had been.
“I don’t know.”
The actress smiled.
“You saw it.”
“Yes.”
“So what was it?”
“I said I don’t know.”
The smile went away.
Celia’s pencil was still in her hand.
“Again.”
They started from the apology.
The brother spoke.
The actress listened.
Her left hand remained beside the glass.
They reached the line.
Celia let them continue to the bottom of the page.
“Again.”
They went back.
This time, just before the line, the actress moved her left hand toward the edge of the table.
It stopped.
She finished the scene.
Celia looked at the hand.
“Take five.”
The brother stood immediately. His wife followed him toward the coffee at the back of the room.
The actress remained at the table.
Celia made a note on the page.
The actress watched her.
“Was that what you wanted?”
Celia finished the word.
“No.”
“What did you want?”
“The scene.”
“Did you get it?”
Celia started to square the pages on her lap.
One page was turned the wrong way.
She pulled it out, turned it, put it back.
Then she looked at the actress.
“I thought I had.”
The actress leaned back.
For the first time since they had started, she seemed comfortable in the chair.
“Do you like her?” Celia said.
“Who?”
“The woman.”
The actress thought.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you like being her?”
Her fingers went to the side of her neck, just below the ear.
They stayed there.
Celia watched.
The actress noticed her watching and lowered her hand.
At the back of the room the brother was telling his wife something about the coffee.
She laughed.
The actress looked toward them.
“They listen to her.”
Celia waited.
“Even when she isn’t talking.”
The actress touched her neck again.
This time she seemed to notice herself doing it.
“Is that strange?”
“Is it?”
The actress thought.
“Yes.”
Celia looked at her.
“I gave you the part.”
The actress looked back.
Celia knew immediately that she had answered too quickly.
She put the pencil on top of the script.
The actress did not rescue her.
“What do you want?” she said.
Celia almost smiled.
She looked at the table.
The glass filled too high.
The napkin on the floor.
The empty chair where the brother had been sitting.
Then at the actress.
“I wanted you to stop waiting for the line.”
“I did.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
Celia reached down and picked up the napkin.
She folded it once.
Then again.
She placed it on the table in front of her.
“Not yet.”
The actress looked at the folded napkin.
Then at Celia.
Neither spoke.
The brother and his wife came back with their coffee.
“Are we ready?” he asked.
Celia opened the script.
The actress put her hand beneath the table.
Celia saw it.
This time the actress saw her see it.
They both waited.
Nothing happened.
The actress took her hand away.
“Don’t chase it,” Celia said.
The actress nodded.
Celia looked at the three of them.
“From the door.”
“Same note?” the actress asked.
“No.”
“What do you want?”
Celia looked at her.
Then at the room.
“Let’s see.”
The brother went to the door.
His wife joined him.
The actress remained at the table.
Nobody moved until she looked up.
WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.
Travel in Life 