Set Life || a Short Story

I straighten, my elbows resting on the edge of a table covered by a blue cloth. The pattern on the sheet is like woven textile and complements the scattered puzzle pieces of every color. I see two matching zebra pieces and press them together. The edges fit perfectly.

"Don't get too far ahead, Hosanna," one of the grips says as I find another zebra piece, "we haven't started the shot yet, and the puzzle's only supposed to be half-done."

I laugh and shrug.  "I can't help it.  All these pieces just waiting to be put together."  But I stop and watch the film crew gathering around me and the other actress, my hands still fiddling with a small puzzle piece between my forefinger and thumb.

One actor—my brother—isn’t going to be filmed in this scene, and he takes a turn helping the grips set up lights.  Other behind-the-scene helpers put up the lights, hold diffusers, and arrange the scene perfectly as the camera op and director give them guidance.  The lights and stands are arranged, making the tan wall behind me free of shadows.  The puzzle pieces look even more vibrant on the blue tablecloth.  I pick one up.

When the director is satisfied with the lighting, a make-up artist comes close and squints at my face and the other actress.  She dabs transparent powder on my nose and forehead.  It already feels like there’s a thick layer of makeup covering my face, but I shut my eyes and let her brush more above my cheekbones.

"Are the lights making me shiny?" I ask, smiling.

Her voice rises with her flashing grin, "No, you just can't help glowing.”  She gives me one last pat of powder.  “You're a star, girl."

The other actress and I laugh.

"Practice run."  The camera op holds his gimbal and sweeps the camera slowly across the scene as I go back to the puzzle.  After he does it several times, he nods to the director.

I tense.  My fellow actress prepares to enter the scene, but my heart is pounding against the lav mic that's tapped to my sternum.  A tiny cord trails down to the transmitter in my back pocket that's hidden.  Every word I say can be heard by the boom operator.  Yeah, it can be embarrassing.  No secrets.

He hoists his boom pole onto his shoulders.  It's extended past four feet, and he raises it above our heads, checking to make sure it's not in the camera shot.  His long arms stiffen as the mic hesitates above our heads.

The camera op nods.

"Camera rolling."

"Sound speed."

I take a deep breath.  As I lower my eyes to the puzzle again, my fingers clasp around one of the pieces.  It's not a zebra but instead some odd, grey texture. An elephant?

"Scene 13 alpha take 1."  The clapperboard snaps, making my ears ring.  The 2nd AC steps away, holding the board, and pauses.

No one says a word.

Memorized lines rush through my brain.  I try to sort them, to remember which goes first, where I look, how I say every word.  They’re like the puzzle, mixed and strewn all over the tablecloth.

I release my breath in a quick prayer.  This scene belongs to God. It's all His.  "Help me, please."

"Three, two, one... action!"

The actress—my pretend sister—pulls up to the table in front of me, but I ignore her for a moment.  My fingers fiddle with the puzzle pieces.  I find two that connect, and they slip together like old friends meeting once again.

But I raise my eyes, my throat tightening.  "Why were you yelling?"

She doesn't meet my gaze.  "I don't want to talk about it."

It's the climax scene for my character, and somehow, I forget who I am.  I forget that I'm an actress, and instead I become Noelle.  At that puzzle table, I stare into my sister's face.  She pretends to work on the puzzle with me, but there's no effort.  She goes through the motions, and I know her secrets. I know how it's hurting her, hurting our family, hurting me.

My fists clench around the suffocating puzzle piece.  I try to control my breath, but it chokes when I say my next lines.  I'm not supposed to cry—it's not in the script—but I feel the emotion clutching in my throat.  Because somehow, right now, I'm Noelle.

The lines rush out of my mouth.  We argue, and my words hurt her as I try to "realistically" show her the truth.  As she finally turns to leave the table, I watch until I reach down for another piece.  It doesn’t have a partner, matching piece.  But it's still part of the overarching picture.  It has a place in the story.

"And cut."

I look up, almost surprised.  There's the camera, still turned towards me.  The boom pole lowers, but I forgot that it was there.  Lost in that moment, it all disappeared.  It was just me and my sister, our words flying and stumbling at times.  Our hearts broken and hurting.

I take a deep breath.  I'm not Noelle anymore, but she lingers inside me.  As the camera sets up for another take, I go back to being Hosanna.  Until the next shot.

The camera moves to another angle, and we retake the scene. Then again.  Alpha, bravo, charlie, delta, echo...  The clapperboard keeps snapping, and I say my lines again, lost in the moment.

At the last "cut", the director nods.

"That's a wrap for today."

I slip off my chair, leave the puzzle.  After the entire day of filming for 10 hours, we hurry to pack our bags and exit the house towards our row of vehicles.

I start our truck and pull onto the road.  My actor brother sits beside me as we pass the dotted, yellow lines and turn corners.

But I can’t stop thinking about the puzzle scene, about how I had become caught up in the moment.  Somehow, that feeling of being completely lost in something bigger than myself still hesitates within me.  I never thought acting was my passion.  But maybe—somehow—it is part of who I am.

We will come back the next day and act.  And the day after that.  But I don’t think it will be the same as the moment I forgot the mic, camera, and lights and got caught up in the story.

I guess it's called set life.

Last week, I spent at least 50 hours working on a short film with a crew of incredibly talented people.  We laughed, made mistakes, worked together.  And somehow, I felt like we became a family in those five days.

And even though it was time consuming and left me little breaks to be in His quiet presence, I still knew that He was God.  With every shot, I committed myself to Him.  When my stomach churned with stress, I let Him be my strength.  And He was (and is) always enough.

I miss set life.  But instead of being sad that it's over, I'm rejoicing that it happened.

And now you, dear friend.  What are your rejoicing in?  Do you consider yourself an actress?  If you've never made a movie, what aspects of filming stood out to you in my short story?

Friend, you are being loved.

 

The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime,

And in the night His song shall be with me—

A prayer to the God of my life.

- Psalm 42:8

~♥~