Everything Leads to You

“Everyone always forgets the sound guy,” Michael grumbled as he came in, but even he looks happy now.

As the weeks have gone by, word about the project has been spreading. Instead of our bare-bones crew we now have a script supervisor and an onset photographer, who stand, holding hands, in the doorway, peering into the dining room. We have gaffers and a best boy and three grips who will set up the lights and keep track of equipment; they sit next to the buffet eating cookies and sneaking glances at Ava and Benjamin. There are others, too: a girl with pale blond hair who looks about my age, a guy with an ironic mustache. I don’t know what they’ll be doing yet but they have notebooks out and look ready to work.

“Can you feel the energy in this place?” Theo asks. “My God, it’s beautiful. Most of you are doing this for free. Those of you who are getting paid are getting nothing close to what you’re worth. I know that and I thank you. Sincerely. I thank you. I couldn’t imagine a better group of people. If I had ten million dollars to make this movie, I would still choose you. I mean that.”

He takes a breath, extends his arms to the people at the table.

“These actors,” he says, “are about to stun us with their talent. Let’s begin.”

He and Rebecca share a love seat, each of them with their own copies of the script.

Rebecca begins to read:

“Scene one. Interior. A small Los Angeles grocery store. Bright summer light shines through the windows. Juniper, 19, stocks jars of baby food in an aisle. George, mid-40s, stands behind the register staring out the window. Enter Miranda, in a blue dress. She picks up a red plastic basket, a grapefruit, a box of oatmeal, a bar of chocolate. She falls. Juniper drops a jar of baby food. End scene.

“Scene two. Interior. Grocery store. Juniper stands behind the cash register. George places lemons in a basket near the window.”

Ava has the first line. I can feel everyone in the apartment holding their breath.

“The jar cut her ear,” Ava says. She has her script open on the table but she isn’t reading it.

Benjamin James, however, has his eyes fixed to the page when he responds, “It did? I didn’t notice.”

Ava touches the top of her right ear.

“Right here,” she says.

And with these few words she’s already proven herself. She’s understated, wistful, everything she’s meant to be. Theo and Rebecca exchanged pleased looks, and I turn to my script, my stomach not hurting at all, and read along as the scene continues.


GEORGE

Her skirt was blue, like this.

(points to a magazine)


JUNIPER

Lighter, I think.


GEORGE

Maybe, but not much.

Silence.


GEORGE

You know, in ancient times, when someone

had a seizure people thought it meant they were inhabited by demons.


JUNIPER

That’s ridiculous. How do you know that?

George shrugs.


JUNIPER

What do you mean ‘in ancient times’?


GEORGE

Ancient. You know, people in Babylonia or something.


JUNIPER

Babylonia? Did you read this somewhere?


GEORGE

I don’t remember. It’s just something I know.


JUNIPER

How do we know she even had a seizure?


GEORGE

What else could it have been?


JUNIPER

It could have been just some weird reaction to something, or an anxiety attack, or something. We don’t know.


GEORGE

Okay! Whatever. It was what it was.

Someone comes into the market. They look up; it’s not her.


GEORGE

I was not implying that she was inhabited by demons. Obviously.


JUNIPER

You weren’t implying anything. I know.

~

I have a canvas bag full of home-decorating magazines and catalogues, four tacos from my favorite truck, and a large aguas frescas to share. Thankfully, a man is leaving Ava’s apartment as I arrive, and he holds the door open for me. I press the call button to the elevator with my elbow, then P, then 3-2-3. The doors shut and send me on my way to Ava’s.

I am arriving unannounced.

I want to surprise her.

We haven’t spoken since the read-through and I didn’t even get a chance to tell her how amazing she was because Morgan caught me right after it was finished to talk about the next steps for the sets. And now two days have passed, bringing me closer to the looming deadline for Juniper’s apartment.

But I can’t stop thinking about Ava.

So, here I am, setting down the bright pink juice to knock on her door, armed with everything I need to help her brainstorm decorating ideas.

She opens the door in plaid pajama bottoms and a thin T-shirt and I try not to look at the gorgeous way it clings to her.

“Surprise! I come bearing lunch and decorating ideas,” I say.

“And I am still in my pajamas at noon,” she says.

But she smiles and lets me in anyway.

She glances down at herself, blushes, says, “Let me just, um . . . I’ll be right back.”