Page 4 of You Spin Me

Cue dramatic sigh.“You’re my hero.”

You may be wondering: How exactly does a girl who can barely read end up an actress who specializes in Shakespeare? Well, this particular dyslexic girl is a whiz at memorization. Taking one final deep breath—this time to clear my head rather than lure in my prey—I focus all my brain cells on listening as he reads through the scene.

The gods must be smiling on me because my buddy doesn’t get called before I’ve got the words locked in. Now I can use the rest of my wait to analyze the scene and make a few choices. Instinct tells me to play this character straight so that the humor comes from the degree to which she takes herself seriously.

When I hear my name, I follow the assistant into the room wearing my most winning smile because before I get to play the character, I have to play the role of easy-to-work-with and accomplished actress.

“Good afternoon, I’m Jessica Abraham. So nice to meet you.” Handing over my headshot and resume with my left hand keeps my right free to shake the director’s hand. Such a little thing, but it makes a difference to not start the whole thing off with an awkward fumble.

“Thanks for coming in, Jessica. I’m Miles Jacobs, and this is Carol, our stage manager, and her assistant, Larry.” The director is younger than I expected. Mid-thirties, maybe? Short with a pale, rarely-sees-the-outdoors complexion, he’s got kind of a nebbishy air about him.

Either Carol just took a vacation to Florida or she’s got a tanning salon membership, because there’s no way she’s maintained that golden skintone and blonde highlights through a Boston winter. By the way she’s tapping her pencil on the schedule, I’m guessing that she’s dying for a cigarette. She smiles politely and tips her head at Larry, a younger looking black guy. “Larry here will read with you.”

Larry waves. He’s the only one who gives me a real smile.

Miles takes a moment to scan my resume. “You’ve done a lot of classical theater.”

“I’ve been fortunate at Shakespeare Boston.”

He taps a finger on his temple. “That’s why I recognize you. I saw both shows this past summer.” He flips the resume to study my headshot before making eye contact again. “You seemed much younger as Juliet. And you made some choices that surprised me.”

I smile, deciding to take both comments as compliments. “Juliet has a lot more layers than most people think. I tried to find as much humor as I could in the early scenes.”

His attention drops back to my resume.

“I did quite a few more contemporary shows in college,” I mention.

“Brandeis. Cool. My older sister went there.”

“Mine too.” We spend a few minutes playing the do-you-know game. Turns out our sisters were in the same sorority. Always good to make a personal connection, especially in an open call like this one.

Carol doesn’t let us stray too far from the business at hand, however. “Sorry to interrupt, Miles, but you do have a design meeting at seven and you said you wanted a dinner break before that.”Plus, I need a smoke, I can practically hear her saying.

“Right. Thanks, Carol.” When he turns back to me, the relaxed smile I’d coaxed out of him has sadly disappeared. “Alright then, so let’s take it from the top. Whenever you’re ready.”

Even though I have the scene memorized, I hang on to the photocopy. An acting teacher once said that no matter how well-prepared you are, it’s best to have the words at hand. Even if it’s useless for me, it lowers expectations for my audience. The paper reminds them that what I’m performing isn’t a finished product.

My choices seem to play well—I mean, I even get a laugh from Carol—until Miles interrupts me. “Great, thanks. We’ll be in touch.”

Painting my professional smile back on, I do a little curtsy to make things fun. “Right, thank you.”

Once I’m out of the room, though, I can’t help but push my lips out in a pout. I drove all the way up here for that? I didn’t even get to finish the scene! As I layer back up to head out into the cold, I remind myself that it’s important to get out and meet new directors. Even if he doesn’t like me for this part, maybe there’ll be others in the future.

I’m exhausted by the time I get back to Boston, but I drive straight to the dance studio. Two hours of sitting in the car means my body needs to move. By the time the jazz class is over, I’m sweaty and the stress is gone. When I get home to a blinking red light on my answering machine, I don’t even stop to stress about what news the thing might reveal before punching the button. I hope it’s not the guy I went out with last weekend. He was an even bigger jerk than the one in the scene I read this afternoon.

BEEP. Jess, this is mom. Don’t forget, I’m hosting Shabbat dinner tomorrow night. Everyone’s hoping to see you to celebrate your birthday.

She whispers the last word like it’s a state secret. I wish it were so secret that it could be erased, but I dutifully circle the date in my day planner and send up a prayer to the gift gods that my parents will actually give me the Macy’s gift card I asked for. Turning thirty means I need to invest in some serious face creams.

BEEP. Jessica, this is Dr. Robertson. Can you come speak with me tomorrow morning before your classes? Thank you.

Oh dear. Getting called into the principal’s office. Even though I’m a teacher now, it’s as unappetizing a prospect as it was when I was a student. I make a note about that too.

BEEP. Hi, um… this is for Jessica… uhhh, Abraham? This is Courtney? I’m an intern up at Chichester Rep?

Even as my heart beats fast in anticipation, I can’t help thinking that this girl needs a voice coach. Her habit of turning every sentence into a question makes her sound like she’s unsure of her place in the world.

I’m, um, scheduling callbacks forBeyond Therapy? So can you call me at the theater to… do that?

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