I shake my head.
“It manifests in different people in different ways, but is usually self-destructive. For those who suffer from it, it’s frustrating, because they recognize the patterns of fear, anger, and self-sabotage but feel powerless to change them. Sound familiar?”
I nod. “Yes.” Not just regarding Ethan, either. I’ve been feeling that way for years.
“Some try to self-medicate with drugs, alcohol, sex, food, shopping, or gambling.”
Ethan used to drink heavily. I lost myself in meaningless sex.
Dr. Kate sits forward a little. “People in these types of cycles think that if they change how they react outwardly, their inner processes might follow suit.”
“Like wearing a mask,” I say quietly.
“Yes. Exactly like wearing a mask.”
I clench my jaw against rising emotion. “Ethan failed our mask assessment. He had to do extra credit to make up for it.”
She pauses. “How successful was he in masking his emotions with you?”
“When I first started working with Connor, Ethan tried to be cool about it. In fact, I think I was more uptight than he was.”
“Why do you think that was?”
“Because…” I pick at my fingernails and answer in a near whisper. “I didn’t want to give him an excuse to break up with me again.”
I don’t look at Dr. Kate, but I can feel her staring at me.
“Cassie, your behavior is nothing to be ashamed of. You were scared of being hurt again. Clearly, Ethan wasn’t the only one affected by abandonment. You’re here because you’re still being affected by it.”
I nod. At the time, I had no idea why I was so emotionally bipolar. All I knew was that I was being pulled in so many different directions, I was afraid of moving at all.
I’m supposed to be confident as I take off my shirt, but I’m not. I’m even less confident as I remove my bra. I’m wearing skin-tone stickers over my nipples, but they don’t make me feel any less naked. I’m supposed to look Connor in the eye, but I can’t. It’s Connor. My friend Connor. My friend who’s now standing in front of me, staring at my chest and breathing too fast.
“Watch your posture, Cassie,” Erika says. “You’re a life model. You’d be used to being seen half naked.”
I straighten my back. Connor says his lines, and then he touches me. Gentle hands. He runs his fingers up my sides, over my rib cage. He pauses before touching my breasts. I look up at him. He almost seems apologetic as he puts his hands on me and squeezes gently.
“Good, now Cassie, you transform into his fantasy: the Marla who wants him as much as he wants her.”
I try. I really do. I feign confidence as I unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. Then I put my hand on his chest and trace the planes of his muscles. He inhales and watches as his fingers flex at his sides, waiting for my curiosity to escalate into full-blown lust.
His chest is different from Ethan’s. More hair. Slightly narrower. Still very nice. Just not him.
“Okay, stop.”
I drop my arms and sigh. Connor steps back and rubs his eyes. I’m sucking like a Hoover, and he knows it. We all know it.
Erika drops her notebook and comes onto the stage. I pick up my shirt and cover myself.
“Cassie, what’s going through your mind when you touch him? Because I’m guessing it’s not how much you want to sleep with him.”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to…”
I glance at Connor. He’s trying so hard to make this work, but I keep blocking him. At this rate, our scene is going to be the blandest obsessive love story ever told.
“Mr. Bain, take a break. I’d like to work with Miss Taylor for a while.”
“Yeah, sure.” Connor gives me a sympathetic smile, then pulls on his shirt and heads to the exit.
I tense up as Erika studies me and crosses her arms.
“What’s going on with you? I know you’re capable of having chemistry with Connor. I’ve seen it, especially in the scenes from Streetcar last year. That’s why I cast you together in this. Why are you holding back? Is it the nudity?”
I shake my head.
“Then what?”
How can I tell her that if I fully commit to the scene, I’m worried how my boyfriend will react? It’s the world’s weakest excuse.
She frowns when I don’t respond. She knows Ethan and me well enough by now to read between the lines.
“Cassie, you can’t let your offstage relationship affect your performance. They’re two different lives. Mr. Holt is an actor. He should understand that.”
“He does, and he’s being really supportive, but … it’s going to be hard for him to watch, you know?”
“Then perhaps he shouldn’t. For this showcase, you all need to be at your best. You should sideline anything that could hold you back or distract you.”
“I can’t ban him from watching.”
“No, but you can suggest that it’s not in his best interest. The last thing either of you needs right now is drama in your private lives. Keep it onstage. Am I clear?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good. Are you ready to rehearse now?”
“Yes.”