Alive

Chapter 14

Elle

(Saturday, May 11)

The more hours pass, the more I'm convinced I was crazy to worry about Oliver. I don't think there's been much time where he hasn't been talking. Maybe only long enough to glance over a page of my script before he keeps reading. Or, more often, critiquing it. But I don't mind. I'm just relieved. Sitting on my couch, watching him perform for me. Something I'll probably have to pay for someday. The best part is when he starts laughing over a line, busting up like he can't help it. That's when I know it's funny. That he approves.

I wonder how long he can keep going. Whether he ever gets hungry. He's only taken two water breaks, and it's almost dinner time. I don't want him to stop, so I just slip off the couch, watching him from the corner of my eye as I make my way to the kitchen. I'll just heat up some soup. Something easy, using minimal dishes. That's always the goal.

Vegetable beef. The only kind I have left, since it's my least favorite. I'm always guilted into buying it, though, since it has "vegetable" in the title—and this is about the closest I come to liking anything with that label.

"Hey Elle," Oliver says, frowning down at a page as he enters the room. "Right here. Where they're dancing."

"Yeah?" I ask, stirring the soup on the stove like it's not pre-cooked.

"You might want to make the stage direction clearer," he says. "It seems like you have a specific way you want it, right?"

I nod, scanning the page as he holds it up. But I don't know what he means since it's about as step by step as it gets.

"How?" I ask.

"Like," he glances down. "He's spinning her, but then she's suddenly across the stage, doing..." He trails off.

"No," I sigh, turning down the heat on the stove. Then I motion for him to follow me, scooting the couch back a couple feet. "Like this. Watch."

I close my eyes for a second, remembering the scene. Then I open them and start moving. It's almost like ballet, with a contemporary interpretive edge. I'm not very good, completely self-taught, but I keep going. Except then I forget where I was. There's no music or Emeris to help me, either.

"Why'd you stop?" he asks. I meet his eyes, frowning at how wide they are.

"I need music," I say. Then I open my laptop, load the song on YouTube. I hope Oliver doesn't look, but I guess it doesn't matter since he'll hear it in a second.

"Wait," he says, shuffling through a couple pages. "There's no music written in here."

"I know," I say, hovering my finger over the play button. "I don't think I can put this song in it."

"Why?" he asks, practically flying toward the desk. "What's wrong with it?"

"Because," I say. But I just let him read over the title. It'll speak for itself. And there he goes, laughing his butt off.

"A Korean drama," he wheezes from the ground. "That's so like you, Elle."

"This one was really good," I say. He shakes his head, but then nods it, like he can't make up his mind. But he's still laughing.

"Well anyway," I say, speaking over him. "It's definitely copyrighted. I'll find an acceptable piece for the scene at some point. But this one will always be in my head."

Oliver manages to collect himself, red in the face as he nods at me.

"Alright," he says. "Let's see it."