After taking a break for a drink of water, I suggest a drawing exercise to Rama.
Grabbing a tablet of paper and a pencil, I direct him to sit on the quilt with his back against mine so he can’t see what I’m drawing.
“Describe something to me without giving away what it is, and I’ll try to draw it. Don’t make it too difficult, though,” I instructhim.
After humming in thought, Rama launches into a detailed description that I have to quickly follow or risk getting lost. I do the best I can, but what I end up with is a jumble of incongruent lines and shapes that vaguely resembles a small animal. Or maybe a car battery.
When Rama turns around and looks at my endeavor, he bursts into laughter. For a moment I’m stunned anew by the transformation. This man needs to laugh more often.
Pointing at the paper, he asks, “Why is it so small?”
“I don’t recall you telling me to make it large,” I defend. “I drew it exactly as you directed.”
“The first thing I said was to make an upsidedown triangle. Where’s that?”
“Here,” I point to the mess in the middle, and when Rama begins laughing again, I can’t help but join in. Soon tears are rolling down both our faces.
“What the hell you were describing, anyway?” I ask.
“A wolf!” Rama wipes his eyes with the back of his wrist. “B-but you’ve drawn a disabled lobster instead!”
“Just wait. You’ll see how difficult it is,” I warn, handing him the notebook and pencil and turning my back on him. Ruthlessly, I begin describing an owl in the most backward way possible.
“Is there anything you don’t do well?” I ask with a sigh when I see his drawing. Although rough, it’s definitely an owl.
“Plenty,” he says, smile suddenly fading.
Sorry to see him solemn again, I pat him on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve got me beat in the drawing department, that’s for sure.”
We have lunch in the main part of the studio, and the rest of the afternoon is spent with the cast. I can see the discomfort creeping over Rama and make a point to stay close to him and help him get to know the others. It works, and soon he’s laughing and joking with them. Butwhen New, the acting coach, approaches us, he closes up like a clam, edging toward me again.
“New can be a little abrupt,” I tell him during a moment when she’s distracted.
“Everything’s fine,” Rama says, but I can see it isn’t because as soon as New turns her attention back to him, he tenses up again. More than willing to offer him any comfort I can, I stick with him, and time goes by quickly.
The next couple of days after the first workshop are busy for me with school, and it isn’t until Friday evening that I have an opportunity to practice my lines. Kiet has dropped by and reads Rama’s part for me.
“Skip the next scene,” he says. “I love you, buddy, but there’s no way I’m going to say those things to you, much less follow the stage directions. How does Rama do it? Didn’t you say he’s straight?”
“It’s calledacting,” I say, taking the script from Kiet and turning the pages before handing it back. “I don’t want to practice love scenes with you anyway. That would be confusing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Until the series is finished filming, I’m with Rama.”
“I’d thinkthatwould be confusing.”
I shake my head. “We have to remain in our parts.”
“At least they don’t expect you to live together,” Kiet says, referring to the production companies that have been prominent in the news lately. Stiflingly strict, these companies require their actors to share living arrangements for the duration of filming, going so far as to force them to give up their cell phones and basically cut ties with everyone and everything that isn’t related to the series. Thankfully, I have neverhad to work for such a company. Bright had been bad, but not that bad.
We read for a while until, glancing at my watch, I realize how late it is and get to my feet. “Thanks for the help. They’re picking me up in an hour, and I need to finish packing.”
“No problem. See you later.”
Kiet leaves, and I hurry to get my things together for the weekend.
The sun’s sinking below the skyline when I climb into the back of the production company’s van. Maha’s driving, with Tida’s assistant Nahm in the front seat beside him, and Tait and Aran sitting in the middle. A larger bus with the rest of the cast has gone ahead of us.