Page 26 of My Lucky Star
“We’ve all heard that story many times, but it’s only ever told in hindsight, by someone who made it. Hardly the full picture.” Janie’s mouth curved into a wistful smile.
“I know!” I blinked away tears, feeling like I’d been given more room to breathe, more than I had in months. “Thank you,” I whispered again, thinking of the strange opportunity that had landed in my lap. It wasn’t TV or film or even theatre. This was acting for Instagram, on steroids, but it was a role, and I could treat it as such.
Maybe that would make it feel less weird, too. I’d treat it as another acting job. I would prep, do some vocal exercises, get in the right state of mind, dress for the part...
“About the clothing...”
Janie smiled. “Don’t worry, I have some wardrobe options...” She turned the knobs on her stove, then led me down a wide corridor adorned with pendant lights to a spacious, earth-toned bedroom. Only one side of the king bed looked like it had been slept in, with a tower of books piled on the nightstand. I didn’t know much about her husband, other than that he was filthy rich and seemed to be away a lot. I wondered if they were having problems but couldn’t bring myself to ask.
Janie opened a door to a huge walk-in wardrobe and flicked on the light. I gasped at the display of designer bling, so at odds with her earthy country life.
“I keep my farm clothes in another closet,” she confessed. “This one’s a bit of a... shrine.”
After half an hour of fitting and planning, I had a stack of garment bags so thick I couldn’t properly fold it over my arm and Janie had to help me haul the outfits to my car.
I thanked her with tears in my eyes, but she only waved her hand. “It’s good they’re getting some use. Good luck with the job!”
I drove away with my nerves strung but also lighter than I’d felt in months. Janie knew who I was. She understood the struggle. Maybe I could relax with trying to change myself and accept that I’d always have this yearning. Maybe I could even accept that I missed acting so much I would take a job pretending to be a Turkish actress.
When I made it back to my apartment, I knew what I had to do. After a bit of googling, I found the show –Lucky in Love, starring Cem Erkam and Burcu Yilmaz – with English subtitles.
I made myself a sandwich and a cup of tea and settled in for the afternoon. After two hours and two more cups of tea, I was hooked.
Emre, the character played by Cem, seemed a lot more reserved and serious than the real Cem, but the scenes between him and Burcu kept me glued to my laptop screen, unable to look away. The way Cem looked at his co-star, the way he circled her like a hyena, cornered her, stood impossibly close, his eyes roaming her body like he wanted to eat her... it both disturbed and excited me. Yet, by the third episode, they’d only kissed once. Still, I found my body reacting to every touch.
Immersed in the story, fortified by my third cup of tea, I tried to imitate Burcu’s hand gestures and expressions; her over-the-shoulder death stare, the way she threw her hands in the air in frustration and cupped her face in embarrassment, eyes comically wide when something mortifying happened – at least once every five minutes. Her acting felt a little theatrical, but also fun, fit for romantic comedy.
The real Burcu, the one who hadn’t been out in public for years, might have acted very differently, but I decided not to worry about that. That cutesy on-screen persona was the one the viewers remembered and loved. She was the one I needed to bring back.
Chapter 11
Cem
GRATEFUL TO BE REUNITEDwith my suitcase, I dumped its contents onto my bed, rifling through the pile for the right outfit. It had rained all night and morning, so Emir had asked me to postpone our outing with Aria. We’d rescheduled for 4 p.m., then 5 p.m. and finally 6 p.m. It paid off. The sun had finally appeared, making the street glimmer in the warm evening light.
I popped my head out the open window, inhaling the incredible freshness, my body vibrating. Maybe I was high from too much oxygen. It made me think of all the cigarette smoke and pollution I’d inhaled for years. As much as I craved a good cigar, filling my lungs with pristine air felt amazing, and morally superior.
