Fill Me (7 page)

Ellen is already here. She's sitting in the audience seats, drinking a cup of coffee. "Hey," she says, even and calm. Ellen is a force of nature later in the day. But before lunch she's quiet, almost shy.

She plays Stella, my character's sister. And she is a million times more pleasant than my usual fake sister, Naomi. "You run here or something? You look flushed."

So I'm that obvious. "No. I just..."

"Doing the old walk of shame, huh? I knew you had it in you."

"No, I... I have a boyfriend. In L.A."

She nods like she gets it. Then she shakes her coffee cup. It must be empty. "I'm in desperate need of cup number... too high of a number. I'll buy if you tell me all this juicy dirt about you cheating on your boyfriend."

"I'm not," I say. I bite my tongue. I can't exactly reveal I spent the morning touching myself to his dirty pictures. "Tried that before. It was too much of a headache."

She laughs and pushes herself to her feet. "I knew I'd like you."

Ellen leads me outside the theater. The sunshine is already blinding. New York may be cloudy half the year, but when it's bright, it's damn bright. The sun bounces off every inch of glass and concrete, landing right in my eyes.

"Have you heard the rumors about Kyle and our director?"

"I try and avoid rumors," I say.

"So don't spread this one. But supposedly, they're sleeping together." She sighs, tossing her coffee cup in a trash can. "Though... if you don't like gossip, you should probably get the hell out of the New York theater scene. It's nothing but drama and everyone is fucking everyone." She looks at me. "But you have that boyfriend. In L.A."

I nod.

"And this run is six months?" She shakes her head. "That's rough. I've never made it..." She taps her fingers like she's counting. "More than two weeks."

"We've been together a year," I say.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to suggest you and your..." Ellen smacks her palm into her forehead. "I'm really sorry. I'm probably freaking you out"

"A little."

"Sorry," she says again. "I'm sure you and your boyfriend--"

"Luke," I offer.

"Like Star
Wars
?"

"I think like the Bible."

"Well, I'm sure you and Luke like the Bible will be great. He sounds nice."

"Biblical?"

She laughs. "He must be great if you're committed to not fucking someone else for six months."

We make small talk through our coffee and end up ten minutes late. Nicole, the play director, reminds us to get here earlier next time, but she doesn't dwell on it.

The first few hours of rehearsal are tough. The other actors, especially Ellen and the male lead, Nicholas, are seasoned theater actors and they know their lines inside and out. I'm finally off book, but I'm still struggling to really make the words my own.

By the end of the day, I have a little footing. I'm still out of my league, but I'm not quite so overwhelmed.

I can do this.

I can absolutely do this.

***

The week passes quickly. Ellen invites me out most nights, but I decline. From the way she talks, I can tell she's not exactly a bastion of moderation.

I talk to Luke for a few minutes before bed every night. We're both too tired to say much, but it feels so good to hear his voice.

I spend the weekend rehearsing in my apartment. I know Luke would mock me or tell me I work too hard, but he doesn't understand how out of my league I am. I was in a few plays when I first moved to Los Angeles, but it's been years since I've seriously done any theater.

When I finally call it a night, I realize I haven't eaten dinner. I barely ate lunch. But it's nothing. No big deal. I've done enough recovery that I don't have to obsess over every single thing I eat or don't eat.

Come Monday morning, I am ready to kick ass and take names. I get to the theater half an hour early, bursting with energy. I am finally up to speed. Finally where I want to be. I understand Blanche--she lost everything she cared about. Her secretly gay husband killed himself after she caught him with another man. She's an outcast, but she denies it to herself, hiding behind a veneer of superiority. She claims to put great value in sexual roles and manners, but it's a lie she tells herself, to help herself understand why life failed her so utterly. She's insecure, desperate, terrified of losing her only value in the world--her beauty.

The only thing that lifts her up is attention from men. It doesn't just make her giddy. It reaffirms her belief that she deserves to exist.

People read Blanche as weak, as pathetic sometimes. But she's not. She's a woman in an awful situation, doing everything she can to hold it together. But her real self keeps sneaking out.

I put everything into rehearsals and the director praises my dedication. I'm proving my competence. Finally.

Ellen keeps me busy all night. We go to an amazing restaurant in the village, swig way too many cocktails, and meet her weird, artsy friends for an off-off Broadway play. The star is great, one of Ellen's ex-boyfriends. We meet him for drinks after the play and he picks my brain about acting in Los Angeles.

Ellen insults him. It's traitorous to even think of moving to L.A. Talking about it is practically treason.

It's beyond late when I get home. So late I forget to call Luke.

CHAPTER TEN

Luke

I think nothing of it when we miss our first call. We were never going to make it six months talking every single day.

But it eats at me all night. I bury myself at work. I run until I'm dead tired. I clean the damn house to keep my mind occupied.

Finally, sometime around ten, Alyssa texts me.

Give me one minute. I want to get into something comfortable.

I bite my lip. I'm going to have a miserable time resisting her if she goes straight to dirty talk and slipping her clothes off. But I have to be strong. She needs to talk.

I open my laptop and accept the incoming chat invitation.

The video pops on-screen. It's a little box of Alyssa, in her bedroom, in that giant bed. She's wearing a tiny tank top and it clings to every one of her curves. She smiles, catching me checking her out.

"Ah, so this is what it feels like to be you," she says.

"It is."

"This is so weird. I can't even remember the last time I did a video chat." Her voice is slightly slurred, like she's had a few drinks.

"I'm not sure that I ever have."

"Like you didn't have some college girlfriend who begged to see you naked over break," she says.

I shake my head. "You're the only girl I'd ever get naked on camera for."

She blushes and bites her lip. "I really, um, enjoyed that um... video you sent me."

"Enjoyed, huh?"

She giggles. "I did
enjoy
it."

"How are you, Ally? We've barely talked all week."

"I'm busy."

"Well, how was dinner?"

"You know. It was dinner. It was nothing." She contorts her face in a look of distaste.

"Tell me anyway."

"Why? It's boring."

"It's not boring if it's about you," I say. "Did something happen?"

"A dozen people from the production went out to dinner. And we had drinks. Ellen and Nicholas claim it's a tradition. To get drunk before the first day of previews."

"And?"

"I had a few drinks."

"What did you eat?"

She throws me a side eye. "This again?"

"Humor me."

"I don't know. I ate food. Some kind of salad. It was very healthy and wholesome and exactly what I should be eating. Are we done with this area of conversation?"

She's always resistant to talking about her recovery, but this is something else. Something more. "Ally, what's up? You're defensive."

"You always think I'm defensive."

"Talk to me. I want to hear it."

"There's nothing to say. I've been busy. I've been less than perfect about my recovery work. But it's fine. It's not a big deal that I've been skipping lunch."

My stomach drops. Alyssa is skipping meals.

She clears her throat, and I bring my gaze back to the little image of her on-screen. "It's really not a big deal," she says. "I've been too nervous to eat during rehearsals. So I have some coffee and that's that."

"You're too nervous to eat but coffee is fine?"

"Luke, it's not a big deal."

"It sounds like a big deal."

"You pushed me to move here," she says. "You pushed this on me. Don't be a fucking pussy about it now."

"Ally..."

She folds her arms. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I'm trying to handle this the best I can, okay?"

"Why do you have to handle it on your own? Why can't you talk to me about it?"

"I don't know..."

"Tell me what you're feeling. Please. I want to help."

"You'll get scared and run away." Her eyes turn towards the floor. What must be the white sheets spread over the bed.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you will."

I fight a sigh, racking my brain to figure out some way I can convince her I'm not going anywhere.

"Have I ever gotten scared and run away?" I ask.

"No..." She shrinks further into herself. This is only going to put her further on the defensive.

"You don't have to talk to me, but I'd really appreciate it if you did."

"But it's too ugly. It's too much."

"Not for me," I say. "There's no part of you that's too ugly for me. I don't care how deeply you repress things, how ugly you think they are. You're wrong. I love you, every part of you, even the ones that hurt, even the ones that you hide from me."

"You have no idea..."

"But I want to have an idea. I want to know everything about you."

She takes a deep breath, her chest rising dramatically. "You'll think less of me."

"I won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're everything to me, Ally. You're the honey in my tea."

"You drink your tea black."

"And it's okay like that, but it's better with honey. My life is so much better, so much sweeter when you're around."

Her gaze turns towards the camera, towards me. "That's cheesy."

"I know."

She presses her lips together and nods. "Okay. But I don't know where to start."

"Why did you really skip lunch?"

"It was an accident the first time. I was too busy. But then I liked it. It felt familiar. Comfortable." She presses her fingers together. "I know it's stupid. I've been in recovery a long time. And I didn't even usually restrict. But everything with this play is so overwhelming and every time I try to tell you how scared I am, you tell me I can do it."

"Because you can."

"But that doesn't make me feel any less terrified," she says.

"Tell me about it."

"I fight this panic when I get to rehearsals. I want to lock myself in the bathroom. I'm so out of my league and I've never done anything like this. Not on this scale. I can't get on stage. Not in front of two thousand people who are waiting for me to fail."

"It must be miserable to feel like that," I say.

She nods. "I really don't know if I can do this, but how am I supposed to function with all of this doubt drowning me? I can't."

"You can't run away from it."

"I have to. That's the only way I can get through this."

"I know you hate when I try and play therapist."

She nods. "Yeah."

"So what if you started seeing someone again?"

She blinks a tear away, her eyes on the floor. God, I wish I was really there. So I could hold her and kiss her and promise everything would be okay.

"It's not that I don't want to hear it," I say. "I do."

"Okay."

"You can talk to me. About anything. Tell me every ugly thought you have. I'll listen."

She shakes her head. "Not right now. I have to get through this first."

Dammit. We were off to such a great start. "Are you sure?"

"I'm going to go," she says. "I'm really tired."

"Ally..."

"It's not a big deal."

"You just said that you're drowning in doubt."

"But I'm used to it."

A long silence passes. She's sitting there, alone in that little apartment, the New York skyline filling the room with light. And I'm here, in our living room, nothing around me but grass and pavement.

"Do you remember what you said to me after I punched out Ryan?"

Finally she smiles. "That you're a hopeless idiot?"

"Besides that."

She shakes her head. She's still smiling. It's a happy memory, I guess.

"You told me I don't have to handle everything alone. That you want to be there to share the burden with me," I say.

"I do."

"So let me share this burden with you. I want to help you. It would make me so fucking happy to help you."

"I can't, Luke. Not right now. I can't. I'm sorry. But there's too much. I can't afford to fall apart now."

"But I'll be here to help put you back together," I say.

"You won't be here. You'll be in Los Angeles. You have no idea how bad it gets. You have no idea how far I can fall."

"But Ally--"

"I'm sorry, but I have previews and Laurie is visiting Monday. I have to get through this first."

"On one condition."

She groans. "Condition is a fancy way of saying promise."

"Fine. Then you have to make me a promise."

"I could hang up this call right now."

"But you won't."

She frowns. She hates it when I'm right. "Fine. What's the condition?"

"If you feel like you're going to fall, if you feel like you're too overwhelmed, like you want to hurt yourself in any way, you call me. Okay?"

"Fine," she says. She looks away, her expression strong. "But thanks. I appreciate that you're looking out for me."

"I'd do anything for you," I say.

She nods her way through a good-bye. She's so lonely and scared on her own. I have to do more to help her. I have to do more to pull her out of this.