allegro

Anna remembers when everything was wonderful.

Within two months of their arrival in New York, Anna changed in a way that was doomed from the start but impossible for anyone who knew her before to predict. Then again, actors are notoriously emotional and difficult, and Anna was particularly spoiled with the dreams of her prospects before confidently heading to the big city - a city curious to find how many times she could fail without breaking.

It helped that Anna saw failure in most everything. Simply taking a job as a museum tour guide felt like unforgivable compromise. That means she didn't manage to land any of the 60 acting jobs she had submitted her headshot and resume for in the previous month. Worse, she was never even called in to audition. The few attempts at open calls were depressing eye-openers that never got her a callback. Fail, fail, fail.

After more submissions than she could count, she finally managed to see an agent, one whose office was best described as a real roach motel. Simply being the room and maintaining a shining smile was enough to make her feel like a prostitute. And then the assessment: She was an inch too tall and twenty pounds too heavy. Her look was unconventional, in a completely unmarketable way. Her talking voice was too low for her to convincingly play a teenager, so he would have limited use for her as a client. This was all before he asked to hear her monologue, at which point she was ready to run screaming. She got two sentences in when he told her to take acting lessons and sent her out.

It was growing clear to Anna that she was never as great as everyone said back home - and as Alex kept on saying. Alex still applauded her "tremendous talent" with drumming regularity. She said I love your face. I love your body. I love your mind. I you're your skill. Compliments hurt more and more and Anna's failures became more pronounced.
For Anna, there was only one sensible conclusion: Alex was lying. Anna sought to discover why Alex was lying this way. It means she's cheating. It means she's hiding something. Or maybe she's not lying, and it just means Alex is stupid, or blind, or needy, or just pathetic.

She was helpless, and grabbing at any way to gain control. Work was no good for that. Consider Grant, her overweight greasy supervisor. Grant Wickman with his mildly misogynist manners, his consideration that any woman who wears makeup is a stupid and narcissistic. He was convinced that Anna was only hired because Mr. Rinquist thought she had a tight ass. It didn't help that Mr. Rinquist really did eye Anna's rear end, making very particular not-to-be-misinterpreted-as-sexual-harassment compliments on the days her clothes were most flattering. It didn't matter that Anna had studied art history before switching majors. It didn't matter that her tours mostly resulted in satisfied customers. Grant was sure she was faking it, and he was going to catch her.

And every time he walked by, she really did flub.

Each time he smirked maliciously. After a few months, he started interrupting her tours to correct her. She wanted to kill him, to hit him repeatedly with the most dangerous looking pieces of "found art".

Then Grant got promoted, based mainly on an incident where Mr. Rinquist saw Grant co-opt Anna's tour group with unusual aplomb. This somehow qualified as superb customer service and made him ideal management material. It didn't matter than Grant has actually corrected Anna incorrectly.

She needed to feel good at something.

She needed a little power.

When Toby from work started crassly flirting with her in the caf, she practically threw herself at him. He was passably attractive, though dull and weird. It didn't really matter: he wanted her, so she got to decide: accept or reject. She was so thankful for the chance that the option of rejection was never really considered. Sex with him was simply that: sex. It was once, and it was awful. There was no art to his passion, and she refused to help. She felt cheap and disgusting, but she couldn't have helped it if she tried. Next time, there would be more alcohol. Then maybe something stronger.

Then there was sex with Alex. It was always intense and cathartic immediately after an indiscretion. Otherwise, her own self-loathing made any love-making impossible. She made excuses framed in anger and even came to believe them. She came to despise all the parts of Alex that were once appealing and endearing. She resented Alex's success, then even her incredible photographic talent. She hated the way the right look from Alex still made her weak. She hated Alex's shape, the most vulnerable parts of her curves, the parts that made her too human. She hated all of Alex's attempts to help her; she saw it as pity and burned at the thought. She hated Alex for the way her simple presence reminded Anna of what used to be and how shitty it all became. She hated Alex for trying to make the present look anything other than bleak. Then she hated herself some more.

She still loved Alex. She was trying as hard as she could to make Alex stop loving her for completely selfish reasons.

As for Tim and Hope?
Anna has a hard time trusting anyone, and Tim and Hope were no exception. They also made no attempt she could decipher to fix that. No one is really that nice. She was sure they were intentionally making her feel like an awful person. She was jealous of Hope in ways she couldn't put into words, though it was clearly tied up in her ease, her humor, her natural confidence, the fact she looked good in everything without trying. And it was clear that Alex adored her, she lit up with Hope in a way Anna simply didn't see or trust from Alex except when it was directed towards someone else.


She remembers when James called. She didn't recognize his voice. He was coming to NYC, he wanted to see his big sister, he wanted to see the sights, oh by the way Natasha says hi, he wanted to go clubbing, he'll be here in two weeks, could he sleep on the couch? She remembered handsome awkward James and the way he blushed and swelled that time when he saw her kiss his sister. She remembered how much he loved her acting. She forgot that she once thought little of him.

She honestly forgot to tell Alex that he was coming.

Alex was out on a shoot when James arrived. He brought weed. He brought really good weed. We'll get to that later. Anna decided to take him out for a drink now that he's all good and legal. They talk, they laugh. She orders a drink. He reminds her of how things used to be, but it a way that lets her live in it. Remember that time? Oh yes. She orders another drink. And how is Alex? She's good. Let's not talk about Alex right now. He has grown up so much in the past six months. As the talk, he leans in closer. She touches her leg when he makes her giggle. She never really noticed his eyes before. She orders another drink. He tells her that Lizzie, that bitch, is jealous that Anne and Alex got out to the city while she's stuck in Wisconsin. Anne feels wonderful. She orders another drink. He tells her, in a conspiratorial whisper, what he thought of her the first time he saw her. Even in her inebriated daze, she grabs onto the control that he has given to her. Why don't we go back to the apartment and smoke a bit?

He always wanted her. Now he's gonna get her.

She remembers the moment she heard the knob twist. She remembers not being able to move. She remembers the screaming, and getting hit by a small ceramic statue she had given Alex as a gift in another lifetime. She remembers being terrified and relieved in the same breath. She remembers tossing things in suitcases and screaming at James. She remembers closing the door and screaming at it. She remembers being completely cold. She doesn't remember the crying.

She was completely broken, but no one was going to know it unless they saw her act.

Apparently, you need equal parts heartbreak, desperation, and soul-death to make it in the city. It helps tremendously if you truly stop caring what anyone thinks. Over the next month, every audition was heart-wrenching and perfect. She got cast in a play. An agent saw her and thought she was unconventional in a truly marketable way; she just needed a new hair color. Then she'll be screen material.

She colored her hair. She changed her wardrobe. She changed neighborhoods. She told Grant to shove it. She made a completely new set of fake friends. She met rich people. She did an independent film. She met more people, her past was slightly revised. Her heart was half closed, and what was left she needed for her craft. She remembered the right names. She was on her way to "starlet"; she'd have to go West Coast soon. She enjoyed anything that let her forget what she thought of herself.
But nothing really did.

She shot another movie. This one was bigger. She would be on the poster. This could "make her."

She was playing a model.

Thoughts of Alex followed her daily. Every fake line from disingenuous people changes the truth of history. Each day the Alex of old seems more honest, more true. There is greater and greater loss.

This movie was the sort of indy made for the Academy, but to get it the attention it deserved, it needed a provocative poster. At least, that's what the guys in marketing said. The director thought of the poster for "Secretary" showing back of legs and bum only. We'll be just like that, only different he said. The guys from marketing were thrilled. It struck Anna that this image had nothing to do with the movie, but hey, it's inspiration, right?

An up-and-coming photographer was hired for the shoot. A "what-if" passed through Anna's mind, then built upon itself. Though she didn't think it likely that Alex would be that photographer, she couldn't help but dream. She imagined crafting entirely new and moving ways to say "I'm sorry." She pictured Alex's smile. She dwelled in the potential ins and outs of such a reunion. When Anna met an up-and-coming sports celebrity the following week, she smiled earnestly for the first time in months, simply because his sense of humour reminded her of Alex. Anna slept with him high off the notion of how she would fix things.

Of course, she reasoned, it's not likely to happen.

But then it did.

It was the shock on Alex's face that threw Anna off so far. None of her plans and imaginings involved this much shock. Anna figured if anyone should be shocked, it should be her: just look at Alex's hair.
She looked good. She looked so good. She looked too good for someone who was also so obviously broken. Anna's world came tumbling down when faced with such a mirror. All she could see was the pain that she herself had not come to terms with.
It hurt so bad. A wave of everything she came to hate overcame her in an instant. All the old resentment took over, fighting with the inspired, perfected image that had been crafted since they parted. She followed Alex outside, completely overwhelmed and determined to take control and make sense of this.

When she opened her mouth to speak, only one thing came out:

"Get up, Alex just fucking shoot me and get it over with."

It sounded better in her head.

She wanted Alex to kiss her. No, hit her. Beat her. Than maybe kiss her. What Alex pushed her to the ground it felt so deserved. It wasn't enough though. Then again, nothing would be.

Surely there was a piece of Anna's mind that realized it was all over. Some part of her could realize the loss and mourn properly, then move on from there. It might not have been wonderful, but it would have been better.

She acted as though she moved on. Life was an act after all; everyone would have bought it if they knew there was something to buy. The sports celebrity, Harold the Golfer, had a starlet girlfriend. She was never as fun or exciting as she was the night they met, but she was gorgeous and sought after, and she was faithful enough. Her drug habits were hip enough. The magazines would surely love them.

She did another movie in New York.

She played a photographer. She tried to kill herself but chickened out.

She sought out Alex's work. She bought Alex's photography, but always though friends and dealers. Her bedroom walls were covered in these pictures. She stared for hours. On some nights, she would sleep in the living room to avoid them, but she'd never take them down. She would enter her numbers but never dial.

Her weight dropped below Hollywood thin.

She had finally decided to see a doctor when she got a message from Jake. Jake, of all people. All it said was, "I have AIDS. Go get tested."

A call would have been nicer, but her response would have been no less mechanical. She got tested. She already knew. She was finally being punished.

She told Harold, who was horrified.
He was negative, but it wouldn't matter. He left, which she appreciated very much.
She realized the news would travel in wider and wider circles. She told Jake first, hoping Alex would find out from him and not a magazine.
She requested that he call instead of text message. He said "Why don't you?"

She hung up.

The story never hit the papers. She couldn't decide if she was surprised. Everyone knew, but no one told. She finished the movie. She was offered an ad campaign: hair color. She turned it down. Everyone thought she was crazy. She realized her career wasn't over as long as she kept working and people kept watching and wanting, and she didn't care. She was doing her penance. She appeared in print ads for a clothing company. The drug cocktail was doing a number on her body which would eventually show, and she didn't care. She was doing her penance. She had no real friends, but one excellent psychotherapist and a good support group. Her new agent was genuinely interested in her choices. She didn't mind him.
She was starting to recognize human kindness, but it only came in flashes. The fakery came standard. It was almost all she did. She was increasingly comfortable with that.

She saw her life with new focus: She was very sick. She was very successful. She missed Alex.

These were stable and unchanging. She could deal with that.

As awards season approached, she did interviews, TV and print. Other people dressed her more and more frequently. She smiled for the camera. Small town Wisconsin girl makes it big in no time at all. What a dream this must all be to you. What do your parents think? Are you seeing anyone? Tell us about the movie. Don't be boring.

On the morning the Golden Globe nominations were to be announced, Anna sat at home alone reading the paper. Because she was killing time, she read every page.


It was there on page 18. Young photographer found dead. Apparent suicide. The name. Oh God, the name.

She went to the bathroom. She swallowed many painkillers.


When the call came and she didn't answer, her agent came to her apartment to tell her the good news. He made it in time to save her life. She spent several weeks in the hospital on suicide watch.

The papers caught that one. Talented and promising young actress attempts suicide on morning of her first major awards nomination. It was just perfect. This girl was just born to be magazine fodder.

This one had a real future ahead of her.