"Exhausted. Gerald had us do seventeen takes of the same scene today because he said my 'emotional aura' wasn't aligned with the lighting."
"Your... emotional aura?"
"Direct quote. He also made us all do trust falls before filming because he wanted to 'cultivate ensemble energy.'"
I bit back a laugh. "Did it work?"
"One of the stunt guys caught me. Very bonding. Very weird." He paused, and I could hear him shifting, probably settling into bed. "Tell me about your day. Please. I need to hear about something normal."
"Nonna called me today because she couldn't figure out how to 'follow you on the Instagram.' Turns out she was trying to friend-request your IMDb page. She's very upset it won't accept her."
He laughed loudly, and the sound made me so happy. I continued, “And, apparently, Thanksgiving planning started today. In July. There was a forty-five-minute argument about whether shrimp goes in the gumbo or if that's 'an abomination against Cajun ancestors.'"
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. Uncle Ray was on team shrimp. Aunt Delores was team chicken-and-sausage-only. Things got heated. Someone invoked Nonna's authority, but she refused to weigh in, said it would 'cause a family civil war.'"
He laughed. "Please tell me it ended peacefully."
"It did not. They brought samples to Muses today. Made everyone do a blind taste test."
"You're kidding."
"I wish I were. They had labels. 'Gumbo A' and 'Gumbo B.' They took notes. Uncle Ray brought a clipboard, Luke. Aclipboard."
"Which one won?"
"That's the thing—everyone loved both. Said they couldn't choose. So now we're having two gumbos at Thanksgiving."
"I love your family so much."
"They're insane."
"They're perfect." His voice softened. "I miss them. I miss you."
"I miss you too." I pulled my knees up to my chest. "But hey, we're doing okay, right? This whole long-distance thing?"
"We're crushing it," he said. "Though I have to admit, talking on the phone isn't quite the same as having you here."
"I know." I closed my eyes, trying to picture him. "But we'll figure it out."
We talked for another hour, about everything and nothing. He told me about the other actors, about the insane schedule, about how Gerald kept insisting they do "character work" that involved interpretive dance. I told him about my writing, about the chapter I was stuck on, about how Nonna had asked me again if she needed to "get the Facebook" to follow his career.
"Okay, so walk me through the plot point you're stuck on," he said finally. "Maybe I can help."
"You're tired. You don't have to?—"
"Anna. I want to. Tell me."
So I did. I explained the scene I'd been wrestling with for days, how my main character needed to make a choice but neither option felt right, how I'd written myself into a corner.
"What if," Luke said slowly, "she doesn't choose? What if the whole point is that she's stuck because she's waiting for permission to want both things? Like, maybe the answer isn't choosing between them, but figuring out how to have both on her own terms?"
I sat up straighter. "Oh my gosh."
"What?"
"That's it. That's exactly it." I was already reaching for my laptop. "Luke Fisher, you're a genius."
