Day 1 - Part 1

(William’s perspective)

“Sorry, Mr. K, your show has been CANCELED!” arm mimicking an axe.

“SORRY, Mr. K, your show has been canceled,” head down and sullen.

“Sorry, Mr. K, but YOUR show has been canceled!” Chest out, proud.

“Sorry, Mr. K, YOU have been…” hands around script strangling pages.

I stopped practicing my line mid-sentence as I heard someone pull out the chair from the desk next to me. Taking in the surprisingly pleasant scent of perfume, I could tell it was a woman without looking. I took in the scent trying to imagine what she looked like. I sat very still while painting a portrait in my mind. She was blonde. No… Strawberry-blonde. Her eyes were green and she had freckles. She was slim and quite tall,  5’ 9” give or take an inch. Her lips were pouty and her eyes were bright.

I didn’t dare turn in fear of ruining the image I had built in my head. I’d done this before — trying to imagine what someone looks like from the sound of their voice, or the scent of their perfume. I was always wrong, and I was always disappointed.

My thoughts were interrupted by the clattering of a pen to the floor. From the corner of my eye, I could see it resting between our desks. My mind did the back and forth wondering if it was close enough that I would be rude not to pick it up — or if I could get away with ignoring it. While pondering, I saw a hand stretching toward the pen in an effort to retrieve it. I gave in.

“Thank you!” she said as I reached up to hand her the pen. When she took it, I saw her for the first time. In that moment the vision I had created faded into history. Sitting before me was a woman that made my vision a candle against the sun — and my voice abandoned me. I was grateful to just be able to get out a weak grunt and nod of my head in response before quickly turning back to face the front of the room.

I could feel the heat in my face as it must have turned three shades of red. Simultaneously, my mouth went dry, and my stomach twisted. I could only hope that she wouldn’t try to talk…

“My name is Helen,” I heard her say. I turned my crimson face toward her and choked out, “I’m William. Cool pen!”

(Helen’s perspective)

I walked into the room with a bit of anticipation and great fear. It was my first day of acting class. I’d done some commercials and some local plays when I was living in Missouri, but my agent said it would be a good idea for me to have some classes under my belt — particularly after moving to California. He also said that making contacts was half the job.

I scanned the room for a place to sit. There were eight rows of desks with five seats in each row. Most of them were still empty — a benefit of being early. My goal wasn’t an empty seat, though. My goal was a friend. It’s hard enough taking these classes, much less doing it alone. I was drawn to the left side of the room where a couple of young guys were chatting away. They were both easy eights, and I took one step in their direction.

I shook my head. “No. No boyfriends. Need to focus on this class. I’m just looking for a friend,” I reminded myself and kept looking.

On the right side of the room was a group of three women chatting away.

“Too difficult to join a group,” I thought to myself.

I checked out the middle of the room. There was one guy sitting a couple of rows back from the front. “Hmm… late-30s? No romantic threat. Alone? No group to break into. Choking paper? Bit weird, but I’ll give it a shot,” I concluded. I walked up to the desk next to him and sat down.

I put my backpack under my desk. The paper-choking stopped. He just kind of sat there looking at the stage. “Time to make a friend,” I said under my breath and struck up a conversation. Well — I dropped my pen, which generally does the trick. At first, he just sat there, so I prompted him, pretending to try to reach for it. It took him longer than I thought it would, but he reached over and picked it up for me. As he returned it to me, I sized him up. I might have been wrong about the late 30s, but definitely mid-30s. Not unattractive. Bright blue eyes, with wispy blond hair. He had a gentle face, and he was bashful — definitely the shy type. He turned back around quickly after he handed me his pencil, but I needed a friend and I wasn’t giving up. He was as good a choice as any — and after looking around again, I was sure he was better than most.

“So I’m Helen,” I said. He said his name was William and told me that he liked my pen. I admit I’ve never heard that before. I couldn’t tell if it was a pick-up line or if he was lost for words. Judging from the crimson in his face, I would guess the latter.

“So have you been acting long?”I persisted.

“About 30 minutes,” he replied.

I grinned, and was about to ask him another question when several more students came into class and took their seats. The instructor bounded up to the stage, and I was out of time.

(William’s perspective)

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Acting 101.375. I’m Raoul Richards. Today, I’m going to get to know you a little better, and assess any natural talents you may possess. This includes singing, dancing, and pantomiming — well, not pantomiming, unless you’re really good at it. Anyway, before I get to know you, you need to get to know each other. I’m going to give you thirty minutes to find a partner and get to know each other. You will be working with them throughout this course — not exclusively, but close, so choose wisely. Oh, and preferably someone that you won’t mind kissing.”

“Did he say kiss,” I thought to myself. “I’m 39. No one here will want to kiss me, acting or not.” I quickly scanned the room. I was clearly the oldest there, and I don’t think the next in line was any closer than ten years younger than me. As I scanned the room, it was clear that no one was looking in my direction. I began looking around when I suddenly felt a hand on my wrist.

“I’m sorry, Harold. I already have a partner.” I turned around. Helen had taken my arm and was telling another man that she was with me.

“Hi, I’m Tom.” I heard and turned around again. “Would you like to be my partner?” I looked at Helen who was pleading with her eyes. I turned back to Tom. “Sorry. I already have a partner.” He shrugged and walked off in another direction. Helen’s Harold remained.

“No, you’re going to be my partner,” he said as he looked at the clock. “You have about five minutes to figure that out. Which shouldn’t be too difficult. Look at that guy. He’s got to be at least fifteen years older than you. It’ll be like kissing your dad.”

I could tell Helen was uncomfortable, but didn’t know what to say. I turned to Harold and said, “You know, Harold, I’m not her dad, but I am an actor. How about I play her dad, and you play the guy that couldn’t take a hint.” He looked me up and down twice and slowly turned to find someone else.

Helen looked at me and apologized. “I’m sorry for volunteering you to be my partner, but he was creeping me out.” I thought about my near fate and answered her. “No worries. I’m afraid you got the short end of the stick anyway. I’m 39.”

“Don’t worry about it, William. I’m going to be 37,” she said with a grin.

I knew she was kidding, but it was a nice way to temper my disappointment. I wouldn’t have put her over 23, but it did make me feel a little less like a creep.

(Helen’s perspective)

The room filled up quickly when it was time to begin. The teacher was on stage and speaking before some of the students had found a seat. I could hear him talking, but my mind wandered to the room itself. It was an old warehouse — nice for having enough space to do what we wanted, but it was going to be hot during the middle part of the day. The class was only for 8 weeks over the summer. The ceiling fans and the ventilation from the broken windows helped, but it was going to get warm pretty quickly.

It wasn’t long, and he was telling us to choose partners. I’m always up for meeting someone new, but then he said something about kissing. That took about 75% of the class out of my preferred choices. Even though William seemed like a nice guy, kissing someone that much older than me would seem a bit weird. I looked around the room. My eyes returned to the couple of guys near the door that might have worked, so I started toward them. Before I had taken two steps, another man was standing in front of me, blocking my way. “Hi! I’m Harold, and I’ll be your partner for this class,” he said.

“Um, no,” I replied as I backed up toward my desk. “You won’t be my partner.”

“Come on. You know I will. We only have thirty minutes, and I’m not letting you get past me to those guys over there,” Harold said as he nodded in the direction that I was headed.

“I wasn’t headed that way anyway. Why would I be going over there when I already have a partner?”

“Exactly.”

I reached behind me and grabbed William’s arm. “William is my partner.” Harold’s eyes widened, but he was not deterred. He tried to pull my hand off of William’s arm about the same time William turned around. He made some comment about William’s age, and William persuaded him to leave. Even though he had left, I was guessing this wasn’t the last I would hear of Harold.

“Thanks,” I told William. “I’m sorry for volunteering you like that, but I didn’t want to have to kick Harry’s ass on the first day.”

“No worries,” he replied and smiled, “He’s probably harmless, but either way, you’re getting the short end of the stick. I’m 39.”

I smiled, “It’s okay. I’m going to be 37.”

“Really?!” he asked in surprise. “I wouldn’t have put you over 23.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll take a little while to get there, but I have every intention of being 37 some day.”

William gave a crooked smile as I admitted I was 24. He seemed like a nice guy. I was glad we met, but I confess I’m not all that confident about having to kiss him. On the flip side of things, I sure as hell wasn’t kissing Harry.

We found a spot to sit down, and I asked him to tell me his story.