Later that evening, when I got home from work, I sent Sinbad a short text thanking him for lunch and told him that it was nice to see his smiling face again.  He responded immediately:

 

“Even my pleasure.  :)”

 

It was a good way to end the day, and I determined that I wouldn’t contact him again until I was ready for my smoking lesson in about two weeks time.  Always keep ‘em wanting more, right? 

 

The first week flew by with all the filmings I was doing and preparing to do.  I even turned down one role, because I thought the script was stupid, and I just didn’t want to do it.  I was getting so many quality offers that I felt I could afford to pass this one up.  There was one I was really looking forward to doing, an artsy type of film with long still shots filled with emotion and no dialog until the second half of the film.  The script was brilliant, evocative, beautiful.  This was one that I was going to be proud of having done… one that would eventually go on my video resume and lead to bigger and better gigs.  I wanted to devote my energies to doing my best on this one.

 

Then, less than a week before the shoot, I got an email from the director:

 

“I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t find another actor in your age range, so, because of time constraints, I had to go with a younger couple.  I hope this won’t damage our relation.”

 

Damn!  When she’d originally offered me the role, she’d said that she’d seen an exercise that I did in Meisner class with another actor from the class.  She liked how we worked together and wanted to cast us both.  He must have turned it down.  Fuck!

 

I knew the guy, Mr. Coque, had been extremely busy producing a film of his own, but he would be done with that by the time we were shooting this film.  Why did he turn down such a beautiful script?

 

I had a feeling I knew why.  The first time I ever rehearsed with Mr. Coque (a hyper, middle aged American who’s always high on pot which affects him in the same way that cocaine affects most people), he told me that I had the same name as his ex-wife.  And then, he said that I reminded him of her.  I’ve since heard him talking about his ex-wife, and, believe me… he was not giving me a compliment. 

 

And in December, shortly after I’d joined the acting class, he produced a film of sorts that involved most of the other students in the class.  Since I was new on the block, I wasn’t expecting to be involved.  But a few days before the shoot, he contacted me and asked if I could come and operate a camera and some other stuff.  I told him that I’d have to rearrange my schedule, because I was seeing my best friend off to the airport for her move back to Australia, and I had another friend coming in for a visit from Slovakia, so could he let me know exactly when he would need me.  He gave me a schedule, and I went to great lengths to rearrange my schedule to accommodate it.

 

Then, when I talked to him to confirm the times, he said,

 

“Sounds like you have a lot going on, and my flat (where the shoot was going to be) isn’t that big, so I won’t be needing you.”

 

It was one of those “why didn’t you tell me before I turned my world inside-out for you” kind of moments, but I let it slide, because I was actually relieved because I really did have a lot going on.

 

After the January break, one day, I arranged a pre-class rehearsal with another American student from the class… 19-year-old Tiny Tim.  We agreed to meet at the pub across the street from the class about an hour before.  When I arrived, Tiny Tim wasn’t there yet, but I saw Mr. Coque sitting at a table and joined him.  I was starving, and knew I couldn’t make it through our three-hour class without eating, so I ordered some scrambled eggs.  Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Tiny Tim who, after greeting me briefly, sat at the table and literally turned his back on me and began a lively conversation with Mr. Coque about a new film project that they wanted to plan.

 

They were both getting very excited, brainstorming different ideas and talking about how they could involve different members of the class.  Mr. Coque’s level of animation was escalating to the point that I thought he was going to catch on fire.

 

“Yeah, yeah… and we can have X doing this, and Y doing that, and Z doing the other.”

 

I watched this conversation from the vantage point of an outsider.  I was obviously not included in these plans.  In fact, I was not even visible… or was I?  A couple of times, while they were naming off different girls in the class that would be involved, they would become suddenly aware of my silent presence (I hadn’t even brought a book to read, and if I hadn’t ordered a meal… which was taking forever to get there… I would have gotten up and walked out). 

 

“Yeah, yeah… and X and Y and Z…” they turned to look at me… “and Kruu, of course.  Oh yeah, and Kruu.  And we’re not just saying that because you’re sitting here.”

 

Yeah, right.  Cocksuckers.

 

After about half an hour of this, I began to think my eggs would never get there, and began to look around restlessly, contemplating leaving without them.  There wasn’t much time left before class anyway.  Surprisingly, the two assholes noticed my unrest.  One of them said,

 

“Kruu wants her rehearsal.”

 

I said,

 

“I want food.  Where are my damned eggs?”

 

The eggs finally arrived, and I scarfed them down in a matter of minutes and got up to leave.  Tiny Tim spoke to me for the first time in 40 minutes. 

 

“Hey, we didn’t mean to ignore you, but we’re just really excited about this project.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re both pretty fucking rude.”  The acting method that we’re learning is based on having truthful moments where the main rule is “fuck polite.”  You don’t hold anything back.  Getting used to expressing everything that’s on the inside during these twice-a-week class exercises, plus additional rehearsals during the week, has the effect of freeing up our inhibitions, and the tendency is to let some “moments of truth” out in real life, too… especially with each other. 

 

Tiny Tim rose to his own defense, but I couldn’t let him get away with it…

 

“Look at the body language!”  He’d spent an entire 40 minutes with his back turned to me, at a table for three. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he simpered.

 

“That’s a fake apology!”

 

“That’s a fake apology,” he admitted. 

 

“Woohoo… Kruu’s going to get her rehearsal in after all,” chuckled Mr. Coque.

 

“Kruu’s going to get the hell out of here,” I said, and I walked out. 

 

I doubt if this little scene had much effect on Mr. Coque, but I noticed a huge change in Tiny Tim’s attitude toward me.  The young son of American missionaries, who was usually friendly to everyone, suddenly acted as if I didn’t exist.  If I walked into class with one of the other students, it seemed that he would make a point of saying hello to them and ignoring me.  He even went so far as to not answer when I greeted him on occasion, and on the rare occasion that we worked together in class, he was especially cruel to me and seemed to relish it.  He seemed to have a need to take me down.

 

Mr. Coque’s attitude toward me, however, didn’t seem to change.  He wasn’t overly friendly, but he occasionally asked me to join the group in the pub after class, just like anyone else.  There seemed to be some walls up in our exercises, but that happens to everyone.

 

In the months that followed, I occasionally heard some rumblings about this film project that Mr. Coque was putting together.  Once in class, and another time at the pub, he joked with me about what kind of a part I could play.  He saw me as a psychologist with a past… maybe an ex-stripper or something like that.  Could I do that?  Sure I could. 

 

As the film project started to become more of a reality, it became apparent that I wasn’t going to be involved in it.  Mr. Coque said to me at one point,

 

“I even wrote a part for you... I had it in there.” 

“I know you did.” 

 

I didn’t think too much of it at the time.  I wasn’t really clear on what he was doing or why he was doing it anyway.  And I had just gotten my first real film role and was busy getting ready for that.

 

One day in class, Mr. Coque was absent, and our teacher asked if anyone knew where he was.  Somebody said they thought he was probably busy getting ready for this film project.  Our teacher asked about it, because he didn’t know anything about it.  The student explained that Mr. Coque was doing a film project to involve and showcase all the students in the class.  Our teacher was impressed and asked who was going to be in it.

 

Everyone in the class raised their hand… except me.  I was sitting next to Elvis, a young, gorgeous American actor who looks something like a blonde Johnny Depp.  He turned to me and asked,

 

“Aren’t you going to be in it?”

 

“I know nothing about it.”

 

“Fucking Mr. Coque,” said Elvis, feigning empathy.  

 

I still wasn’t too down about it, though, because I was involved in my own project.  And less than a week after I’d finished shooting my first film, I got a call from the camera man who had been on the shoot.  He was directing a music video and wanted me to be in it.  Woohoo!  A few days later, I got an email from another director.  She had visited our class and seen me work with Mr. Coque.  She liked what she saw and wanted us both for her film.  This was the beautiful script that I told you about.  Soon after, I got a call from another director who had seen my work while editing the first film.  He wanted me for his action film.  And then, another director had gotten a recommendation from the director of my first film called… it’s spring, and the film students are all working on their final projects, so there was a tidal wave of roles.   And I had little time to worry about Mr. Coque and his film project, even if I did feel that I was being excluded.  I was onto bigger and better things.

 

The exclusion didn’t really hit me until Mr. Coque began filming, and suddenly, all the other students in the class were taken out of circulation, and nobody was available for rehearsals… and this was my primary social group, so I really felt the pinch.  The filming went on for two weeks, which is really unusual for this level of film.  I felt like I was living in some sort of a limbo, but the one thing that kept me going was looking forward to doing that beautiful film and, of course, preparing for it by having a smoking lesson with Sinbad.

 

The shoot was coming up.  We were supposed to start on Friday night, so I thought Thursday would be a good day for a smoking lesson.  I checked the weather, and Thursday was going to be great… warm and sunny… a welcome change from the cold rain and drizzle that we’d been experiencing.  The only problem was that it was a national holiday.  That was good in a way, because I wouldn’t have to work, and could spend more time with Sinbad.  But, Czech are notorious for taking advantage of their holidays for getting out of the city.  I hoped that wouldn’t be the place with Sinbad.  I didn’t know how much chance I had of him making time for me on a national holiday, but I thought I’d give it a shot.  So, I texted him on Sunday night:

 

“Thursday looks like a nice day for a smoking lesson outside and maybe a picnic.  Do you have time to help me?”

 

He was quick to respond:

 

“Sounds great.  How about 5:30-6:00.  Sorry, it’s only time I have.  I are working during day building house.”

 

Hmmm… I hoped he meant that he wanted to meet at 5:30 or 6:00 and not from 5:30 to 6:00.

 

Me:

 

“Wow!  You’re building a house?  Where?  You are multitalented, aren’t you?  OK, C U at 5:30 or 6:00.”

 

Him:

 

“Thank you for saying that I’m multitalented, but it’s not me but designer who have talent.   I’m just helping.  :)”

 

I left it at that, assuming that one of us would get in touch with the other to firm things up some time before Thursday.

 

Meanwhile, the director of the beautiful film had had to cancel a couple of meetings with me because of having to help out with camera work on other projects, and I had been unavailable for a couple of days, because I had to go to Vienna for my visa application (the subject of an upcoming post), so I got in touch with her on Monday to see when we could get together and talk about the film.  And that was when I got the email saying that she couldn’t find another actor in my age group and had had to go with a younger couple.

 

I was devastated.  I can’t even describe how much I was looking forward to doing that film.  So, obviously, Mr. Coque had turned down the role.  It’s hard to imagine him turning anything down.  Even if he was busy, he seems to thrive on overdrive.  After his recent film project, which at times had felt like it was conceived just as a means of excluding me from the “cool crowd,” like junior high all over again, I began to suspect Mr. Coque’s motives.  I wondered if he had turned down the role because he knew he’d be playing opposite me, as my tender and caring significant other, and there was a scene where he’d have to lift my nude body out of the bathtub…   Or had he accepted the role and just refused to work with me?  Had someone else been cast opposite him? 

 

I began to turn this scenario over in my head, and I was infuriated.  I knew he wasn’t fond of me, and excluding me from his little film project was one thing, but sabotaging my career was going too far! 

 

And then, suddenly, I realized that I no longer had a reason to learn how to smoke… or get together with Sinbad!  Now, my world was really turning upside down.  I began to do a tailspin into depression.  But… fuck it!  I was going to have my smoking lesson anyway.  Sinbad didn’t have to know about the cancellation just yet. 

 

Still, depression was setting in, and there was nothing I could do about it.  And I didn’t even want to be around that acting class, so on Monday night, I texted the teacher and told him I couldn’t make it because I wasn’t feeling well.  That was true.  My resistance was really going down, and I planned to be in bed by eight. 

 

But first, I had to have a quick meeting with the Ice Man at 7 to discuss a business idea he had.  Our brief meeting turned into a wave of enthusiasm for a new project he had in mind, and I accompanied him to meet with the other people who would be involved, and I ended up not getting home until eleven.  So much for resting up, but it had been worth it, because after all the feelings of exclusion that I had been experiencing in acting class (exclusively at the hands of the American males in class… more on that in another post), it was nice to finally be treated as a human being by somebody.  These guys (they were all guys) seemed to enjoy my company and I even felt attractive around them.  You have no idea how undesirable and pariah-like my fellow acting students had made me feel.

 

And another thing that buoyed my spirits was that I still had Thursday to look forward to.  On Tuesday morning, I found a text message from Sinbad that had been sent at like one in the morning. 

 

“I don’t remember if I sent you message about our meeting on Tuesday.  I can meet you at 6.  Sorry, this is only time I can..  BTW, thank you for saying I’m multitalented, but it’s architect’s talent, not mine.  :)”

 

Oh shit!  He had gotten the days mixed up.  Understandable, given the similarities between the words “Tuesday” and “Thursday,” but I wouldn’t be home from work on Tuesday until after 7… and I’d be really tired… and it would be too late to have a picnic… it just wasn’t what I’d planned.  I texted back:

 

“Our meeting was for Thursday, not Tuesday.  :)”

 

Sinbad:

 

“Work day  :(”

 

I pondered that one.  I knew that Thursday was a holiday, and it’s really rare to see a Czech working on a holiday.  I wondered if he had made other holiday plans and just didn’t want to tell me for some reason.  Or maybe he just forgot that Thursday was a holiday.  I didn’t want to challenge him, but I did want to remind him.  Maybe a smiley face would soften my message:

 

“Thursday is a holiday.  :)”

 

His explanation:

 

“So sorry.  All my weekends, which starts on Thursday this week, are turned into work days.  :(  I could meet you on Wednesday?”

 

Me:

 

“And I have acting class on Wednesday until 10 p.m.  Oh well.  Good night.  :)”

 

And so, I gave up.   

 

Later that same day (Tuesday), as I was coming home from work on the tram, I wondered why I had been so stubborn about not getting together with Sinbad after work.  Something was better than nothing.  I could still get together with him.  I contemplated calling and telling him that my class had been cancelled (although I hadn’t had a later class scheduled, but how else to explain why I was suddenly free).  But, I was so exhausted and depressed, that the lure of my own bed and being alone in it was too appealing.  I opted for sleep.

 

Which was a mistake, because Ms. L arrived with my new temporary flatmate, a famous, visiting actress from London (maybe I’ll reveal her identity after she’s gone), and they were up chatting loudly in the room next to mine half the night.  It wasn’t until I texted Ms. L and told her I had a 7:30 a.m. class that things finally quieted down, and I could get some sleep. 

 

Wednesday night after acting class, a bunch of us went to the beer garden in Letna Park overlooking the river.  The weather was just starting to get almost warm enough for that, but it was still a bit chilly.  Paulina, a friendly Polish girl who has always been very nice to me (I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… God bless the Polish!), was whining about the cold, and the guys, rather than offering their jackets, very kindly suggested a variety of alcoholic beverages that would keep her warm.  She settled on beer with a Becherovka chaser.   For myself, I chose white wine, which came in a plastic cup, filled to the brim.

 

The place was packed, and everyone was in good spirits.  I asked Elvis about his plans for the future.  He said that Prague was drying up for the acting scene.  There had only been three or four feature films done there in the past year (most recently “Solomon Kane” in which both of our acting teachers had had roles).  He said the places to be were Romania and Bulgaria, and that was probably where he was headed in the fall.  I was surprised by that.  Prague has provided lovely backdrops for Hollywood and other films for a long time now, but I guess it’s no longer a cheap place to shoot a film, and the filmmakers are taking advantage of more economical markets.

 

Soon, Paulina was ready for another beer and another Becherovka.  I had gulped my wine down, mostly because it didn’t taste very good, so I didn’t exactly want to savor the flavor.  And for some reason, I felt like getting drunk.  That’s not something that I usually do, but since I didn’t have to work the next day, I threw caution to the wind and went for another tumbler of wine.  As we walked over to the bar, Paulina gave me a squeeze and said,

 

“I like you soooooooooo much… I just had to tell you.”

 

Leave it to Paulina to make me feel good about myself.  God bless the Polish. 

 

She got to talking about some guy that she wanted to schtup, and asked me how progress was going with Sinbad.  I told her how tired I’d been lately, and how I could have seen Sinbad on Tuesday night, but I was so tired that I even turned down that opportunity.  I told her I was sure there would be other opportunities.  But I wasn’t really so sure.  There had been no answer to my last text, and I didn’t have any ready-made excuses for getting together with him.

 

We stayed out so late that we had to take the night tram home.  I had had three tumblers of wine, so I was really feeling it.  For the first time, I felt like I belonged in that seamy underworld of partiers who ride the night trams.  The only difference was that I didn’t have a guy attached to my lips and various other body parts.

 

I think I stumbled into the flat at around 1 a.m., and the famous actress greeted me with an apology for having swiped my bottle of white wine from the fridge.  We had a lovely conversation as I swayed back and forth on my heels.  Then, I absconded to my room and perused soulcast for a few minutes, commenting on one of e_t’s posts and saying that I was too drunk to write any more.  I finally crashed about an hour later.

 

On Thursday, my free day, a day I’d so been looking forward to, I woke up to warmth and sunshine… and a pounding headache and churning stomach!  I was hung over.   Crap!  I felt so bad that even the thought of reading a book turned my stomach.  I tried to wait out the wave, but it wasn’t going away.  I took some vitamin C, because I remembered that I’d read that alcohol depletes your body’s vitamin C supply.  But I still felt like crap hours later.  It was getting more and more difficult to ride out the waves of nausea. 

 

I crawled onto the internet and googled “wine hangover remedy” and found a page that took a scientific approach to the topic… and recommended attending AA meetings if I frequently found myself needing to consult this page.  Well, things hadn’t gone that far yet, but I made a mental note not to let the Prague party atmosphere take over my life.

 

I had to skip the “before drinking” and “during drinking” sections… too late for that.  I wrote a list of the things I would need to start feeling better:

 

Aspirin:  none in the house, and all pharmacies closed because of the holiday.  Crap!

Multi-vitamin:  Got it.

Vitamin C and Vitamin B:  Got it.

Eggs:  Got ‘em, but the thought of eating them makes me want to heave

Bananas:  Got ‘em

Fruit juice:  Maybe I can duck out to the non-stop potravinny for some later on

Loads of water:  Every time I took a drink it wanted to come back up.

 

A word to the wise:  Never, and I do mean never… drink wine at a beer garden!

 

I went back to bed and slowly tried to introduce these remedies into my system, alternating rest with each attempt.  I looked out the window from time to time, regretting the sunshine that I was missing.  Regretting a lot of shit.  Regretting, regretting, regretting, and feeling oh so sorry for myself. 

 

Around one in the afternoon, I was finally feeling human enough to get up.  I turned on my phone, and there was a message from Sinbad:

 

“Good news!  My Friday’s work got cancelled, so free day for me.  How about we meet in the afternoon?”

 

Suddenly, I had a reason to live again!   

 

To be continued…