Page 92 of Take It Till You Make It
We fall asleep holding hands.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Cut. No!”Hank rubs his face aggressively, knocking his glasses to the floor. An assistant scoops them up and hands them back. “This scene isn’t working.”
Though it isn’t the last scene of the movie, it is the last scene for us to shoot in order to wrap the movie, so it feels rather ironic that we can’t get it right. It isn’t actually because of bad acting, missed cues, or bad comedic timing. There is literally something wrong with the scene. I understand what Hank is saying but can’t identify the problem either. Something I’m usually good at.
Hank has rewritten lines, restaged the players, and changed the props. Nothing has worked.
“Arabelle,” Hank snaps. “What do you think?”
I’m so shocked that he’s asking me outright. Though I’ve pretty much restructured my entire character, he’s never once asked me to do it. “Uh, I haven’t been able to identify it either. Can I watch a replay with you?” I close one eye when I ask, because I’m afraid he’s going to laugh at my request. Who do I think I am, asking to watch a replay?
“Sure, come on over.” Hank makes a grand gesture with his arm.
I have to extract myself from the bicycle I’m riding in the scene, where I run into a rut and end up falling and taking out Chandra and Sally. I’ve fallen so many times, I feel like I should demand hazard pay. Chandra gets a stunt double to do her fall, and Sally only needed to film a couple of falls. Special effects can crop and splice it in from there, but they insist my fall needs to be genuine. Go me!
Hank is so serious when I step up to the viewfinder on his camera. “Technically, the scene is playing out perfectly. So, what is wrong?”
We both focus on the viewfinder. My stomach is knotted with nerves. If I don’t find anything to suggest, will I look like an idiot? The scene plays out. We are all in the park. Jeff and his dad are riding ahead of us. Christa and Lidia are arguing as they trail behind. Stella brings up the rear until she decides she’s sick of listening to them argue and puts on a burst of speed to go around them and catch up with the guys, but she falls and takes them all down. It’s the first time both families have gone on an outing together since Lidia started dating Jeff’s dad.
“Oh my gosh,” I say.
Hank takes a double-take between me and the viewfinder. “What? What did you see?”
I smirk at Hank. “I’m in the scene.”
He opens his mouth, but then closes it. Finally, he says, “Yes, I’m aware.”
“What does every single scene I’m in have in common that this one doesn’t?”
I see his mind cataloging all my scenes. I figured out long ago that he stores these scenes inside his head just as they are filmed. Not stringing them together as a movie, at least he hasn’t yet. His gaze hops from me to the viewfinder, and I can see his eyes growing wider as he sifts through the films in his mind. “Oh my gosh, you’re right.”
He turns his attention to the script in his lap. He makes so many notes as we work during the day, they give him a fresh script each day. I wonder which assistant has the unlucky job of deciphering his scribbles. I’m watching him write, and I can’t read what it says.
“Okay, Stella needs to say something quippy, but…I’m not finding a good opportunity for it.”
I point to his script. “What if I say, 'Hey, what about me?’ or something like that right there? Would that be enough to keep it consistently “Stella-y”?”
He nods. “Yeah, if we shoot it right.” More notes get scribbled in the margins, and he gives direction to the cameraman, then winks at me. “Let’s surprise everyone with it.”
I grin at Hank but return to my place on set with no expression on my face. Crispin is desperately trying to catch my eye, but if I look at him, he’ll know I’m up to something, so I busy myself getting ready to ride my bike again.
Hank calls action, and we all start riding. The mobile camera comes up beside me to capture my frustration and my burst of speed. I ride into the spot that stops my bike and bucks me off – the ground is cushioned, so I’m actually fine, just tired of falling off a bike. I execute the perfect pratfall from my bike and end up on my bottom, knees bent, rubbing a spot on my knee. The movie gods are with me today because even my helmet is askew. I look up at where my sister and Mom will fall when the scene is put together, completely, imagining Jeff’s dad attending to my mom and Jeff fussing over Christa, and I hold my hands in the air. My tone is bratty and whiny. “Hey, what about me?”
Everybody laughs.
“Cut!” Hank calls. “That was perfect, Ari. Thank you for figuring that one out. You’ll be sitting in my seat one day. I have no doubt.”
I climb to my feet, removing my helmet from my sweaty head. “Thanks, Hank. That means a lot to me.” And it really does. I think I really will want to direct one day.
Hank climbs off his seat, and everyone stiffens. He never gets out of his seat. He grins and slams his hands together in a loud clap. “Ladies and gentlemen, that’s a wrap.”
A cheer goes up. Though I’m smiling, my stomach just fell to the ground. We’re actually done filming the movie. Now, it’s time for me to get on with my life.
Crispin wraps an arm around me and bends to whisper in my ear. “You don’t have to know your future. You can take the day to celebrate.”
I look at him and laugh. “How did you know I was freaking out about that?”
