A romance is a tale told by an idiot, full of flowery phrases and stolen kisses, and signifying nothing.
To the fool, the teller of such tales, the fascination lies not with the sexual act: a messy business finishing with a shout and a grimace, but with the dance that brings them there. That eternal game of cat and mouse that brings two seemingly complex people into the hormone-induced dream world we call love. Love causes people to merge until they wed and propagate, or go their woeful ways.
The players in this tale are in fact players themselves — actors in a theater school to be precise.
The lady is our dear friend Isis Freidan, an actress whose quiet demeanor is mitigated by a razor sharp wit she wields without thinking. Is she fair? That depends on your definition. She is neither golden haired, nor lushly rounded, nor rosy. She is tall and lean with pale gold skin and piercing dark eyes. Her breasts and hips are beautifully rounded, her hair is short-ish and dark, and she has the subtle musculature one would imagine of a young Amazon. While normally perceptive, she is woefully unaware that the man she scorns has been obsessing about her for nearly a year.
The man in question is one Seth Draven, ex college football star, and now budding actor. A handsome fellow to be sure, built in a way to rival the gods. With his tall, muscled build, winning smile, dark hair, rich hazel eyes, and abundant talent, Seth knew he had a bright future. His professors had nothing but praise for him, and yet he was frustrated beyond reason, for at twenty-six he found himself in love with the only woman who refused to acknowledge his existence. It had therefore been a delight to be cast as Romeo to her Juliet in the school's big upcoming production.
We, Isis' humble friends, Mel the scriptwriter, Jake the lighting technician, and Minerva, costume and set designer to the school, offer ourselves as your humble guides through this very clichéd courtship. Accept us, for we are your lowly narrators.
So without further ado, let us spin the tale for you...
***
"I don't believe this!" Isis exclaimed one night. She took a long sip of her beer, grimaced and took another swig. Isis loathed beer, but as she never had to pay for a pitcher, she opted not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and swallowed it down. She held out her empty glass and with raised brows Jake refilled it.
"This is a test! This
has
to be test!" Isis declared, jamming her index finger at us.
"Well of course it's a test!" Mel shouted. Of our group she is admittedly the loudest. "Your teachers know you have talent. What they want to know is whether you can live up to that cliché that the truly great actor can play anything with anyone. If you can pretend to be in love with Seth Draven, you can play anything!"
Isis leaned forward, her arm extended, empty glass in hand. We knew by the tilt of her head — and the sluggishness of her movements — that the beer was affecting her. It was a mystery of Isis's biochemistry that we never fully understood. She could do shots and walk away like a pro, but one pint of ale and she was out like a light.
Without a word, Jake poured her another glass.
Isis could not stand Seth Draven — for he was the type of man for whom everything came easily. He'd stormed into acting school — all muscles, charm and dimples — wooing professors and students alike. When he walked into a room, ladies sighed, and professors offered him the best roles and assignments, while Isis had to struggle to be given the time of day. Everything had been handed to him on a silver platter.
Isis had dated his kind before; they regarded ladies like herself as a sort of perverted challenge. Once in their beds, she was quickly forgotten, and woefully tossed aside.
To make matters worse, this man was always picking on her, putting himself in her way when she wished to be alone, and constantly calling her names.
This play was Isis's big chance, and because nothing was easy for her, it should have been no surprise that Seth had been cast as her star-crossed lover.
"What am I going to do?" she whined.
"What you are going to do is hold your tongue, play the part, and thank your lucky stars that you got the lead. You do not play, you do not pass, and someone else takes the glory. It's that simple," Minerva said. Round and curvaceous with rich dark skin, Minerva has the kind of worldly wisdom one would not expect for a twenty something professional. We like to think of her as our own voodoo priestess.
"But there's a lot of kissing in this play," Isis replied sticking out her tongue in disgust. Then, picturing Seth Draven, she poured more beer down her throat, attempting to purge the imaginary taste.
"So imagine he's someone you love," Jake said, refilling her empty glass.
"I don't love anyone that way." Isis's speech was slurring by now.
"Then imagine he's someone you want to fuck!" Mel pronounced, jamming her finger in the air for emphasis.
"Like a celebrity?" Isis asked.
"Sure," Jake shrugged.
"Ok," she was going to pass out any second now, so we figured it was time to give her birthday present.
"If all else fails, just take a swig from this and you'll be fine," Jake said, pulling the silver flask from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. With a smile, he extended a pale, skinny arm and pressed it into her hand.
"Whass this?" she asked, passing a finger over the engraving. Isis was so drunk she needed both hands to keep from dropping it.
"It's the Goddess Isis," Minerva said, pointing to the Egyptian figure etched into the silver.
"We all pitched in and had it made special," Jake said.
"Happy Birthday!" Mel screamed, throwing her arms into the air.
"You guys are the best," Isis said slowly. She laid the flask carefully on the table in front of her, put her head on her arms and promptly passed out.
Her unconsciousness led to a round of rock, paper, scissors to determine who got stuck with the bar tab. Jake lost, and with a grunt and a frown, he pulled out his wallet and laid a few bills on the table. We tucked the flask into her pocket, and managed to drag her out of the bar and back to her apartment.
We dumped her on her bed, and while Jake respectfully turned his back, we got her pants, jacket, and sweater off and tucked her in. Jake got a glass of water and couple of Tylenol and laid them on her bedside table, along with a bucket just in case. We put the flask beside it.
We watched Isis sleep for a few minutes, knowing she was going to be a mess in the morning.
"Out of curiosity, what did ye put in that flask?" Mel asked quietly.
Jake smiled.
"Amaretto,"
"And?"
"A potent aphrodisiac,"
Mel glared at us with wide eyes.
"We're evil," she said.
"No, we just want her to pass," Minerva replied.
"Besides, Seth's a good looking guy, and that girl needs to get laid!" Jake pronounced.
It earned him a nod and a slap upside the head.
"Shall we go out and toast her success?" Mel asked. "The night's still young, after all."
"Yes, let's,"
With our arms interlocked, we scampered off like woodland spirits into the night.
***
