Mellow Dramatic

It's just to talk about the new script, she tells herself as she walks out of her door to meet with him, knowing very well that she'll end up in his bed. The hallway is brightly lit as usual, and she promptly puts on her sunglasses. This is perfectly normal behavior, she calms herself. This is not a disguise of any sort, and I am allowed to leave the apartment, aren't I? But she averts her eyes when she walks past her doorman.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee.” This one never misses a chance for small talk.

“Hello, Brandon.” She tries to act as if she's in a hurry.

“In a hurry today, huh? Have a good day!”

“Thanks, you too.” And she's out the front door.

She wants to stand and take a second to breathe deeply, but the flow of Manhattan pedestrians waits for no one, and she merges into the human traffic.

It was only a month ago when she started on this same path toward the audition room located inside a studio space in Midtown. It was for a flattering lead role in a short film, a pop star character who found friendship in unexpected places. It was exciting to be considered for an early-twenty/teenager role when Sophia Lee is in her late twenties and has been married for six years already.

Only two people were hosting the auditions, one of them being him, the Writer/Director; and the other one the Art Director, who she found out later, is also his long-term girlfriend.

She performed the sides that she had prepared and ended the scene with both of them smiling approvingly at her.

“We'll be in touch.” He said as she got ready to leave the room.

“Of course.” She flashed her most charming smile as she noticed a spark in his hazel eyes.

“I think I did a good job, and it's looking good.” She reported to her agent on the phone as she walked out of the building, feeling positively giddy.

She received an email from him the next day, subject line: “Loved your audition”. He asked if she was interested in reading the whole script, and she replied enthusiastically.

After she had read the script she wrote him an email filled with praises. Perhaps she had fallen in love with the script first.

Her praises were well received, and before she knew it, she was sitting inside a coffee shop telling him across the table about how much she loved the script. He asked her for her opinions on the character choices. He told her he wanted to make some edits before the actual filming. He asked her if they could brainstorm on how to fine-tune the script together.

“Does that mean I got the part?” She asked coyly.

“Yes. I believe so.” He smiled.

“Email my agent and make us an offer.” Play it cool, she reminded herself and tried to ignore the buzzing sensation that started in her body, in her stomach.

On the first day of shooting, his girlfriend, the Art Director, came to her makeup chair to check on her.

“You look so awesome!” She exclaimed, and that made Sophia happy.

“Ryan is so excited to be making this short film. And thank you so much for helping him out with the script here and there! It's always nice to get the actor's input, especially when it comes to character choices, am I right?” The way she said his name with such casual intimacy stung Sophia a little.

Get a hold of yourself, she said to herself in the mirror, this is just excitement for the new role and the new people, so what if you find him attractive, it will pass soon just like any other fleeting crush.

But during lunch, the actors were talking about the popular Scrabble-like game app, “Words with Friends”.

“I could whoop all of your butts!” She teased them proudly. She is the current champion amongst her friends, and she wins over her “scored 1600-on-SAT” husband every time.

And that night, she received an invitation, “Ryan Johnson has invited you to play a game! Accept challenge?”

She instantly accepted the invitation.

“I didn't know you like to play word games.” He typed in the direct messaging box.

“Lol I don't think we've talked about it.”

“How was the first day for you?”

“It was great! Everyone on set is so nice, especially your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, she is great.”

That felt like a prick that poked her gut, even though she knew she was walking right into it.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Ten, eleven years? All my life basically lol.”

“How sweet.”

“And you? Are you single?”

“I have a husband.”

“Oh wow. How long?”

“A while, too lol we married young.”

“It's good to be able to find our person when we are young, I think.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” Her husband has always been the rock of her life. She would never deny that, even in the middle of a psychological infidelity episode.

Ryan beat her by a lot in their first game, and she was genuinely shocked. She started another game with him immediately, and just when the shooting day was about over, she lost catastrophically again. And so she started another new game, this time paying much more attention than the last two, but still, the result was the same.

“How are you kicking my butt?!” She said to him.

He flashed a sneaky smile, “Yeah, 'Words with Friends' is a hard one to play with me.”

Sophia felt her entire body's chemistry change. It was as if her cells were buzzing and threatening to leave her body; they wanted to be close to him, to his body, and they wanted to feel his cells buzzing against them.

They kept on continuing their games and chatted in the direct messaging box.

On the last day of filming, she had to do a photo shoot for the role, and the script required her to be naked except for the bed sheets that would cover her sensitive areas. When she looked over at him as the photographer clicked on, she thought she saw hunger in his eyes.

Later, when he was walking up to her from behind, she turned to ask him, “Was the photo shoot alright?”

“Yeah, it was great.”

“I kind of feel like I didn't get to pose enough to show my cleavage.”

“If you're up for it, I'd love to come to check out your cleavage anytime.” He said in the most casual manner possible and walked off.

What...was that? Sophia was stunned. Did he just say...WHAT? That was incredibly brazen...and hot. She had to remind herself to keep breathing.

“What did you just say to me?” She typed in their direct messaging box.

“I meant it.”

“Ha ha.”

“I'll have the apartment to myself tomorrow. You should come over.”

What is happening? Her head was spinning.

“Have you done this before?” She asked.

“No. Not at all.” and then, “Have you?”

“No. Not even close.” She replied.

The first time Sophia walked up the stairs that led to his apartment, she paused in the middle and stared into the hallway. She was about to cross a threshold, a line that she had thought she would never cross, and she was deliberately inviting chaos into her life. This is not me, she said to herself, but her legs found life and brought her straight to in front of his door.

“Hi,” He greeted her with a shyness that she hadn't seen before.

“Hi,” And just like that, she lost and let her body win the toggle war against her brain.

“I just...took a shower...figured it's the polite thing to do?” His nervousness was showing, and she wanted nothing but to toss herself against his chiseled chest.

“It's the least you can do.” She teased and sat down on the couch.

“I figured.” He laughed and sat down next to her.

The tension in the air had reached its limit and there was no more room for words.

He leaned in and started kissing her.

Electricity jolted through her body, prompting her to mount him, and with their lips and tongues still intertwined, his hands glided down to below her waist, he grabbed her firmly and picked her up.

They moved into his bedroom.

When it was over, she didn't know what to say or to do.

“You have a nice body,” she said quietly.

He smiled and kissed her again. “I'm starting on a new script. I'd like it if you can brainstorm with me again.”

Afterward, when she got home, she felt confronted by the reality of her apartment, or rather, of her and her devoted husband's apartment. Their combined experiences materialized and scattered all throughout the shared space. This was the cozy corner of the world that they'd had together for the past six years, and suddenly she felt as if she didn't belong there anymore.

It was an awful feeling. And it was made much worse when her husband came home.

I'm a cheater now, she said to herself. A full-blown cheater.

But the pull that he had on her proved to be stronger than her guilt, as she ended up in between his sheets again when they were supposed to be discussing his new script.

“We really shouldn't be doing this.” She said, but she didn't want to move her head that was resting on his chest.

“I know.” He replied but also did not break apart from their cuddling.

“You know?” She laughed lightly. “What does that even mean?”

“I never thought I would be a cheater.” He said quietly. “I thought I had every aspect of my life in order, and stuff like cheating was just...beneath me.”

“I get it.” She started rubbing his chest. “I feel the exact. Same. Way.”

“I never thought I would feel this way about another person again.” He continued. “But now that I do, I don't know, I don't want to let go? Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” Her heart was fluttering from his words, and she couldn't help but let her lips fly up to meet his.

But the guilt that consumed her the first time was even worse the second time she got home. She struggled to keep up the normal conversations with her husband; She struggled to look him in the eyes.

I wonder how he's coping, she thought, is he able to pretend everything is normal with his girlfriend? The mental image of them together brought a sour and foul taste to her mouth, followed by more shameful feelings. I must end this, she felt determined, I have always been in control of myself, I am the master of my own emotions, and I CAN convince myself to forget about all this.

And those are the words she is repeating to herself right now as she gets out of the subway station near his apartment. Their apartment, she reminds herself, know your place, Sophia.

“This is the last time I'm coming here.” She announces as she walks through their door, and sits formally at their tiny dining table for two. “Let's talk about your new script.”

He observes her, lets out a sigh, and sits down across the table. “Can we talk about this?”

“What is there to say? This is wrong. We both know it.”

“I don't think I can leave my girlfriend.”

“I'm not asking you to.”

“It would uproot my whole life.”

“Did you think I could divorce my husband?”

He falls silent. She sighs.

“I feel very strongly about you.” He looks into her eyes. She tries to stop her heart from melting.

“We need to get our lives back in order.” She replies softly. “You have your person, and I have mine. We were...on track, but now...”

“Well, maybe we shouldn't be so obsessed about our lives being in order.” He interrupts her. “Maybe we had it all wrong with all the plannings. Maybe we should throw all caution to the wind and be more...flexible.”

“Ryan...” She looks deeply into his hazel eyes, feeling the waves of sorrow in her heart. “We are not flexible enough to leave what we've already planned for ourselves. This will not end well.”

“I've never met anyone who connects with me so well artistically.” He reaches out to hold her hands. She lets him.

“Same.” Her sadness is welling up in her eyes, and she deflects, “I've also never met anyone who can beat me so much in word games.”

They share a chuckle. Their hands holding tight.

“At least now we know...this other version of ourselves.” She says with a wry smile. “Not so noble anymore now, are we?”

“Maybe...” His gaze intensifies, “Maybe we can be...ignoble, one last time?”

She leans in and kisses him.

When she is finally back in front of her apartment building on the Upper West Side, she allows herself a deep breath before walking through the front door.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lee.” The doorman greets her as he opens the door.

“Good afternoon, Brandon.”

In the elevator, she finally feels the mild sense of relief that follows the intense feeling of loss. She has made a mistake but she has also corrected her path before she gets too lost; She feels, guiltily, a sense of rebirth.

Standing in the foyer, Sophia looks around their beautiful three-bedroom apartment that catches a glimpse of Central Park and remembers the small one-bedroom Ryan shares with his girlfriend in a walk-up building on Avenue A. She lets out a self-deprecating laugh. We are not flexible enough to leave what we've already planned for ourselves, her own words to Ryan ring through her head.

She sits on her favorite leather armchair and holds herself, her body still remembering his touch and she can still smell his scent on her neck. Tears start falling down her eyes, she misses him already.

Burying her face into the cashmere throw blanket on the armchair, she feels comforted by the ultra-softness of her favorite blanket. Ryan would never be able to afford this blanket, she thinks to herself quietly, or her armchair, or the dress that she is wearing; she sits up and embraces her own judgmental bitterness. This is the lifestyle that I want, and this is who I am, she declares to herself.

Then she pulls out her phone, deletes “Words with Friends”, and goes to take a shower.

Her husband will be home soon.