Why is it so hard to say no to everyone except myself? No, Fangli, I’m not going to pretend to be you. No, Sam, I’m not going to try to act in your promo. No, Todd, I’m not going to let you intimidate me. Why am I so worried about what these people, all of whom are or were using me for their own ends without a care, think about me? I no longer live on the plains where ostracism from the group will cause me to starve. None of them care what I think about them.
My phone buzzes. It’s Sam. Here.
I answer the door. “Isn’t it easier to knock? Also, this is a bad idea.”
“Texting is equally easy and then you don’t need to look through the peephole. If you don’t like the plan, I’m happy to hear an idea that results in us getting this shot today with Fangli or an appropriate designate.” He points to the connecting door. “I went in to see her.”
“And?”
“After some begging and threats, neither of which felt good or comfortable to do, Fangli agreed to see someone who makes emergency house calls. She’ll be here in two hours.”
“You did the right thing.”
He closes his eyes and leans down to rest his cheek on my head as if I’m a pillow. I freeze. “I hope so.”
When he straightens up, I leap across to the sink to fill a glass of water with the eagerness of someone escaping a desert. Be normal, Gracie. I grip the glass with numb fingers, hearing Sam speak in the disembodied, unintelligible voice of a Charlie Brown adult.
“And that should be it,” concludes Sam. I haven’t heard a thing.
At least Fangli will get help, which means I can stop being worried for her and transfer my full distress back onto me.
“Sam, I can’t act.”
“You’ve been acting for over two weeks, as I pointed out before. Are you listening? You’re not even listening.”
I’m spiraling. “That’s not acting. I’m mimicking.”
“Semantics and if you can do it there, then do it here.”
“It won’t work,” I say immediately. “The makeup people will know I’m not her. They have to see my face up close.”
“Luckily, Mei has a new woman in for today who’s never met you. Nor has anyone on this crew.”
That’s convenient, but still. “It’s a bad idea,” I repeat. “It won’t work.”
“Why not?” He asks this as though earnestly interested in my answer.
Why not? Just because doesn’t seem like the best answer but I also can’t think of another one. Thinking an option won’t work is the default mode of the Defeatists, which I’ve always considered to be my people. What if for once I thought it might?
I can copy Fangli. I can pretend to be her because I have been. If I can do that in real life, I can pretend to act as her acting, couldn’t I? These mental gymnastics are exhausting and it’s not made any better when I suddenly understand why I haven’t dismissed Sam out of hand. It’s because deep down, I want to try, the same way I wanted to try to be Fangli’s double. I want to see if I can do it. The denials are mostly face-saving, so if I screw it up, I can point back as an I told you so.
I’m so tired of lying to myself.
I look at the script and back at Sam. “Tell me what to expect.”
He’s a good teacher and coaches me through the process. First we read it through, only the lines. Then the lines with the feeling. I channel my inner Fangli to do this. The final step is the acting. Sam stops me almost immediately.
“You’re thinking too hard about how to be like the character,” he tells me. “You need to feel it, to be the character. Close your eyes.”
I close them but not all the way.
He makes an impatient sound. “Close them.”
Then he comes behind me and puts his hands over my eyes, blocking out the light. His voice comes close to my ear. “Right now, you’re not Gracie. You’re not Fangli. You’re Lin, a waitress in a run-down restaurant who wanted better things. You’re in love with a man who you know will leave but you want him, even though you’re supposed to marry someone else—a cruel man your family chose. Jimmy is an escape, even if it’s only for the day. You’re conflicted but here, in this moment: All. You. Want. Is. Him.”
He takes away his hands, and when I look at him, he’s Jimmy, my salvation.
“Why are you here?” I know Fangli’s voice and I pitch mine the same as she would, light but low.
“I can’t leave this unfinished.”