Spur of the Moment (30 page)

“I know. I know.” Ana blinked, which set her tears rolling down her cheeks again. “That's what I'm afraid of. I'm not tough enough, I'm not good enough. I'm just kidding myself, thinking I have talent.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course you have talent. I remember sitting at the audition for Iron Pyrits freshman year, looking at you, thinking, ‘They're only going to take one woman, and it's going to be her.' ”

“That's what I thought about you!”

“And then when you got up there and told us those hilarious stories and were doing all these amazing ballet moves, you blew me away. Then when we both made it and I found out you'd never done any acting or comedy or anything, I couldn't believe it. And don't forget, Ana, you were only one of two chosen out of thirteen who auditioned to make the main stage of Spur of the Moment where you get
paid
as an
actor.
Do you think Steve would have chosen you if you didn't have any talent?”

Ana shrugged. “Maybe I have
some
talent. Just not enough.”

“What you don't have is the courage to really go for it.”

“What! How can you say that? I was the one who thought of putting together the sketch show and got everything together for it.”

“Yeah, but where's your agent? When are you auditioning for parts in commercials and trying out for plays?”

“That's really rich, Marin, considering that you've never done any of that stuff. You just got picked out of Denver and plunked into TV just like that.”

“I was lucky, I know, but now that I know more about this business, how hard it is, I'm really going to work harder at it. You know what I think? I think you're just afraid of succeeding,” Marin said.

“That's ridiculous. No one's afraid of succeeding.”

“You are. You're afraid that if you try really hard, you'll find out maybe you can make it or maybe you can't, but as long as you're here in Denver, putting on a few shows here and there without really having to go out there and audition, you'll never find out for sure whether you have what it takes.”

Ana reeled at the accusation. She had been working her ass off, trying to make it. Hadn't she?

“Think about your feminist cheerleaders,” Marin continued. “You could learn from them. You cheer everyone else on and support everyone else. You believed in Ramiro so much you cheered about him to all the literary agents in New York until you found him one. You said so many great things about Spur you packed the house and landed me an agent. Why don't you try cheering yourself on instead of always tearing yourself down and thinking you're never going to achieve your goals? Why don't you do all the things you'd tell a friend who wanted to make it as a performer to do? You've always said you wanted to try stand-up. Why don't you do it?”

“Because I'd humiliate myself.”

“Even if you don't believe you have talent, pretend you do. You know what they say, ‘Fake it till you make it.' ”

Ana scrunched up her face in confusion. “Who says that?”

Marin shrugged. She was as perplexed as Ana. “You know,
‘they.'
Maybe people in AA or motivational speakers. There are lots of addicts and motivational speakers in L.A. I'm pretty sure there's a correlation. Anyway, the point is, you just do what actors do. You pretend to be the person you want to be until you actually become that person.”

Scott appeared backstage. “Psst, hey, we need you on stage. The performance is the thing, ladies. Enough with the girly heart-to-heart stuff.”

When he ran back on stage to introduce the next scene, Ana wiped away her snot and tears. She sniffled. “I'm so terrified of being ordinary.”

“You're not ordinary, Ana. You're extraordinary.”

“No, you are.”

“No, you are.”

“No, you are.”

“Okay, okay. We're both amazing women. That's why we love each other so much.”

Ana nodded.

Marin pulled her close, hugging her tightly. “Let's get out there,” Marin said.

 

 

L
ater that night Scott was sleeping soundly beside Ana. She couldn't sleep. She just stared at the ceiling. She headed downstairs to make herself warm milk spiked heavily with whiskey. Not on her diet, no, but diets never took into account insomnia, did they?

Jason was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking Maker's Mark. It was extremely unusual for him to be drinking hard liquor, even rarer for him to be drinking by himself.

“Can't sleep either, huh?” Ana said. “Can I have some of that?”

He pushed the bottle over to her. She got a tumbler and filled it with ice. She sat across from him.

“You look pretty glum,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm a failure.”

“Really? How do you figure?”

“What am I doing with my life, Ana? What am I contributing? I read this article today about poverty in Africa. There's this organization that's over there helping to teach Africans how to farm and install wells, that sort of thing. The writer interviewed this African farmer, who proudly showed the reporter his farm. He won't get rich quick, but he won't go hungry and he'll be able to afford to send his kids to school, so maybe they'll have an easier life. I should be over there, helping. Join the Peace Corps or . . . I don't know what.”

“You don't think teaching generations of children about how life works is worthwhile? You have, what, at least a hundred kids a year that you teach, right? Times a career of forty or so years. That's four thousand kids whose lives you've touched. And every night when you get on stage and make people laugh, you don't think that's something? Teaching people about toxic waste and government excess in an entertaining way? You don't think that's a contribution?”

He shrugged.

“Think about Michael Moore. We loved
Bowling for Columbine,
right? Maybe the documentary didn't immediately change the world, but it brought to light some serious issues and made people think about violence in America in a new way. He's just doing what he loves, making movies, but educating and entertaining as he goes. You don't need to join the Peace Corps to make a difference. You can't carry the weight of all of the world's problems on your shoulders. There is only so much one person can do.”

“That's not the only thing.”

“What?”

“There's Marin. Her being with Jay. It's killing me. She seems so . . . serious about him. She's been with other guys before, but she was never serious. I could keep believing she would eventually figure out we should be together. I'm realizing now we're never going to be together. Even if things don't work out with Jay. We're just not right for each other. I'm not her type, and I never will be.” He took a long sip of his drink and poured himself another. “And I'm embarrassed that I'm depressed over a stupid crush. There are so many things wrong with this world, and I've been feeling sorry for myself over a crush, wallowing in depression for the past three weeks.”

At “crush,” Jason's voice cracked, as if the weight of his feelings for Marin were truly crushing him. It broke Ana's heart.

Ana moved her chair so it was right next to his and hugged him. Then she pulled away so she could face him. “I can't believe you think loving someone is no big deal. Why do you think war and poverty and injustice are so painful? Because people we love die or are injured and their pain is our pain and their loss is our loss. Love is no trifling matter. It's no small thing. It's everything.”

Jason looked into her eyes, leaned in, and kissed her.

“What the hell are you doing!” Ana jerked away.

“Sorry, it just came over me.”

Ana didn't know how to process this. She kept shaking her head, as if she were having a conversation in her head, “What was he thinking?” “I have no idea.” “What was he thinking?” “I have no idea.”

“Maybe it makes sense, you and I being together,” Jason said. “We've always been the responsible, grown up members of the group.”

“Jason, you know I'm with Scott now. I can't believe you just did that.”

He stared at her.

“Look, I know you're depressed about Marin, but you can't expect me to be your distraction while you try to get over her,” she said.

“That's not it at all. Ana, you've liked me for six years. Everyone knows it.”

“Of course I like you, Jason. I love you. I love everyone in this house. And yes, I had a crush on you for six years, but I'm really happy with Scott. I'm really happy. I haven't felt like this with anybody since . . . I don't know that I've ever felt like this with anybody.”

“Don't you think you owe it to yourself to give us a try?” He started getting all excited, the way he did when he'd come up with an idea he felt certain would solve all the world's problems, or at least some of them. “Just one date. What could it hurt?”

“God, I don't know, Scott's feelings? My relationship with him?”

“You said I needed to stand up for myself. Take what I want. I want you.”

“Jason, you've been drinking. You probably won't even remember this conversation in the morning. You should really go to bed now.”

Ana scurried up the stairs back to her bedroom and slid next to Scott. Should she tell him about the kiss? But actors have to kiss each other all the time. What was a kiss among actors, and a drunken one at that?

Scott would be furious with Jason. There was no reason to start a conflict between them.

She wouldn't say anything.

So why did she feel like she was lying?

 

 

A
ll day at work, Ana thought about what Jason had said. Of course she was still attracted to him, but she'd come to realize that things between her and Jason could never work out. They were just too different. Anyway, she knew he really hadn't fallen out of love with Marin. He hated dating as much as the rest of them did, and so he went for one of his closest friends—ignoring the fact she was dating his best friend. Still, Ana thought about what he said about giving him one date. She had pined for him for six years. No, no, what was she thinking? She loved Scott.

She couldn't shut off the internal dialogue, the questions about her feelings about Scott and Jason over the years. Could she have been just as happy with Jason as with Scott? Could emotions really be switched on and off so quickly? She'd idealized Jason and imagined a perfect love to have something to dream about, something to distract her from her humdrum reality. Whatever she'd once felt for Jason no longer mattered. She loved Scott. There were no doubts in her mind.

W
hen she got home from work, Jason was at his usual post grading papers at the kitchen table. “Hey,” she said. “Where is everybody?” She dropped her bags and slipped her coat off. She went to the fridge to get a glass of Crystal Light peach tea.

“Ramiro's out with Nick, Marin's with Jay, and Scott's in his room.”

Ana drank her tea, put the glass in the dishwasher, and gasped when she turned around—Jason was standing right there, she'd nearly run into him.

“Did you think about what I said last night?” he said quietly. He stood so close to her she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. She looked at his full lips. What would it be like to kiss them?

What was wrong with her? She had a boyfriend whom she loved.

“Of course not. It's ridiculous.”

“I have. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't believe I didn't think of it before.”

“Earth to Jason. Remember Scott? He's your best friend. What are you thinking?”

“He'll understand. You and I, we're meant to be together. I just couldn't see it.”

“Jason, until the day before yesterday, you were certain you and Marin were destined to be together. Don't you think it's a little weird that suddenly you think you and I are supposed to be together? Maybe you're going crazy from loneliness or horniness or something. Get it together, man!”

“Just one date. You owe it to yourself to give me one date. Six years you've wanted to be with me. Don't you deserve to see if we're really supposed to be together?”

“I'm going upstairs now. To my
boyfriend,
Scott.”

Ana marched upstairs to Scott's room where he was working on an abstract painting.

Ana gave him a kiss. “What's it a picture of?”