Losing Her Identity

Chapter 1

It been so long she couldn't remember where she met him. Not that it mattered anymore. All that mattered was that she met him before all of this; before he was an actor or an actor-turned producer. And today she met him on the set of his first production. He'd invited her along with 30 or so of his "closest friends" (to use the term loosely). Some maybe but most were colleagues he'd met acting and now wanted to impress. They were all seated bleacher style waiting for the next take as she joked with about the movie.
"So this is what it's come to," she kidded him.
He knew she thought the movie was a long shot from box office gold. Although she respected the plot, the actors he scored as a new producer dangled the entire project a bit close to a thumbs down. She loved him enough to say so. She cared enough not to say so in front of his “friends”, so instead she gave him light-hearted jabs. Everyone must have thought the jabs funny because as she walked away to leave him to his scene the "close friends" began calling out other movie titles for her to comment on. Urbia (a play on the word suburbia; a movie made to show that gritty, urban films could have that same inane plots as sitcoms set in the suburbs) was the first. She railed it as a desperate attempt at humor made by people who have only gotten as urban as Manhattan. The crowd laughed and threw out another. She suddenly realized she was positioned in front of the bleachers on a sort of stage. Then came another. All movies she'd seen, surprisingly since she wasn't much of a movie-goer. Even the ones she'd liked she was able to rip on unabashedly. He watched on silently, delighted by the way she unknowingly worked the crowd. Whether it was his girl or his movie, whatever impressed these people put him at ease. To her, it was like a stand-up act. It wasn't about impressing people which is why she was so good at it. She never imagined herself on stage, or maybe she did. Was her graceful conversion to center of attention a result of her unrealized wish to be there or was this just another act she so easily put on to assimilate. Unaware of his elated feelings, she suddenly felt she might be stealing his thunder. As if doing an actual stand-up act she thanked the crowd before walking off the imaginary stage.

Having already said her good-bye to him, she turned back only briefly while she walked down the long, man-made dirt road surrounded by fake trees with fall foliage. Apparently, it was cheaper to create this part of the scene rather than trying to go on-site for it. When she looked back she saw him leaping through the air, probably reenacting a scene. Watching him it was almost like with each hop he was momentarily frozen in mid-air, the layering of his shirt, sweater and jacket flapping loosely then pausing in its position. She looked away and shook her head. He'd always seemed larger than life to her, now even more so. When she turned back again he was upon her.
"What are you doing here?" she questioned.
Without a word he playfully tackled her to the ground. Clouds of dust billowed around her. She remembered someone once telling her that dust symbolizes the aspects of oneself being ignored or neglected. Laughing she thought 'surely, this is innocent.' Soon he had her pinned, her stomach to the ground, which had become as soft as clouds. Just as she thought 'where did all the dust go?' he'd taken to the back and side of her neck. He put his mouth to where he was sure she couldn't resist. She knew he just wanted her to stay. "Oh...you...actor-types,” was all she could muster.

Chapter 2

The shoot went fine that day. Afterwards most of the crowd and crew retired to a small mansion on the grounds nearby. It must have belonged to an old friend of his. He acted very familiar with the place. It was decked out like a hippie pad from the 60s. Everything was earth tones and seemed messy, disheveled. It wasn’t dirty, just neglected. The two of them had gotten close again during throughout the day, so no one gave a second look when they headed to a large bedroom off the patio. She was so extremely attracted to me him now. It was if her mind had checked out. Or blacked out, woke up and was infatuated. Where had the day gone? He lit a joint. Maybe that’s where it’d gone. No, she couldn’t have. She wouldn’t have.
“Have some,” he offered.
“I quit,” she was reminded of how little they knew each other anymore, “April 1, 2006. Right before I graduated. I had to get serious.”
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she could almost see them fly over his head. Here she was talking about getting serious to an actor-turned-producer who still smokes weed in between takes. His version of getting serious had nothing to do with not smoking weed. How different they were right now. Just the fact that he offered was a wall between them. It made her feel as though her identity or sense of self was being compromised or disrespected. She had to go to the bathroom, but true to any hippie hang out the bathroom wasn’t closed off by doors. A thin veil of strings decorated with small plastic cereal box replicas was all that kept the rest of the house from seeing her take care of business. He instructed a crew member to pull down the strings. She gave him a look to say ‘as if that’s going to help.’ Still, she couldn’t help being impressed by the way he continued to command the crew even after the workday had ended. She admired the large Jacuzzi tub as the crew member situated himself as a sufficient block. Once she was sure no one could peak she quickly made do. Back in the room she found him laid out on the bed, thoroughly enjoying his joint. She felt out of place. To ease the awkward feeling inside of her she made a flying leap onto the bed. He coughed and looked into her eyes. Suddenly they didn’t seem so far apart anymore.