Chapter Four

Sophia

Despite the twists and turns my on-stage relationship takes with Ryan, at least we get a happy ending together. The same can’t be said for any of the off-screen relationships I’ve had in my life so far, Jack the last in an embarrassingly long line of men that have turned very quickly into regrettable mistakes. Not only has he stolen my money - I feel like an absolute idiot for lending it to him in the first place - he also seems to have replaced me, twice over already.

I guess it’s my own fault for not realising how much of a player he was the first time we hooked up, and he spent half the night on his cell phone chatting to whom I thought were female friends of his.

Sometimes I wish this whole thing with Ryan were real, because he makes other men look like pathetic imposters, and I’m not just talking about his character in this play either. He’s hot, sweet and such easy company, there’s no doubt he’d make an even more perfect off-screen boyfriend than he does an on-stage husband.

That’s a fantasy I can’t afford to indulge myself in, however. Not only does Ryan have a bit of a reputation as a ladies man - I’ve never seen it myself but he definitely has the looks to break about a million hearts in one go - I’m just about done with players.

It’s not only that either, after my visa is officially up in June, and unless I find some other way to stay in this country, I’m going to be on my way back home.

I can’t get sponsorship to stay here through the production company, there’s no way I can afford to continue studying - I was lucky enough to get accepted for the scholarship in the first place - and if I get a job anywhere else, I’m not going to have enough time to concentrate on my acting.

I’ve got about three months left to enjoy myself, so unless some kind of miracle falls into my lap before my time is officially up, when Ryan and my fake relationship comes to an end on the last night of our production, it’s going to be best if that’s the last we see of each other.

Which is a shame, because despite everything else I’ve just said, I think I’m beginning to really like him.

“More rage, Sophia”, Marshall says. “I want the audience to feel the pain you’re going through.”

This whole play is a passion project of Marshall's, that he freely admits is a reinterpretation of one of his previous relationships, adjusted to give both players a brand new and very happy ending. In this scene, I’ve just found out that Ryan, who Marshall still hasn’t given a character name to yet, has been cheating on me.

It feels weird both because I could never imagine this happening with Ryan, who despite a reputation as a heartbreaker does not, as far as I can tell, have a reputation as a cheat, and because this has happened to me more than once before. Those relationship mistakes I told you about earlier? One of them was staying far too long with someone who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants around other women.

“Go crazy”, Marshall adds. “I want there to be gasps in the audience. Hit him if you like.”

“Don’t hit me, please”, Ryan says. “Not until the opening night at least.”

I smile at him. “You deserve it”, I say. “Nobody cheats on Sophia Moreaux and gets away with it.”

“She meant nothing to me”, Ryan adlibs. “Really, I’d give anything to take her back. You’re worth more than a million of her, I promise you that.”

“Less hammy please, Ryan”, Marshall interjects. “It doesn’t suit you. Okay, from the top again.”

It’s one of several dinner scenes that serve as focal points to the revelation of critical information in the story. There’s the realisation that Ryan has been cheating on me, the revelation of my pregnancy, and several other make up and break up moments that shift the story back and forward on its axis, and we’ve been practising little else for the last couple of days.

I pretend to serve food from an imaginary pot onto a plate that isn’t there. Ryan is silent, and nervous, the atmosphere thick with tension. I serve myself and sit down, the silence palpable between us. Ryan’s eyes come to mine momentarily before they drop back down to his non-existent plate. He’s good at this and he’s getting better. I can almost feel the regret bleeding off him.

“I-”, Ryan begins, but I don’t allow him to get any further before I’m up again, the table knocked over and the imaginary crockery spilled all over the floor.

“How dare you?” I seeth slowly, pretending Ryan is Thierry, my first love and the man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants after he’d got me acquainted with it.

“I made a mistake”, Ryan says, his eyes back at mine and welling with tears. “Please forgive me.”

“I hate you”, I say, so strongly I almost feel guilty.

Ryan reaches for me with shaking hands but I smack them away fiercely. “Sophia”, he blubbers.

“Get out of my house before I do something I regret”, I say almost in a whisper, tears running freely down my cheeks now.

“If I can just explain”, Ryan says urgently, reaching for me again.

“Get out”, I yell, so ferociously that Ryan flinches away from me in shock. “Get out”, I say again, much more quietly this time, the words swallowed almost to silence by my sobs.

Ryan takes a last look at me, turns and steps down the stage steps.

“Wow”, Marshall says, applauding his appreciation. “That was about a hundred times better.”

Ryan climbs back on stage with a smile on his face. “Thank you for not hitting me”, he says. “You looked like you were going to.”

I wipe the tears away from my face and laugh. “If that was real life, I definitely would have done.”

“If that was real life”, Ryan says, “I wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place.”

“That’s the right answer”, I say, trying not to look at him too suggestively.

We take a break while Marshall decides what he wants to go through next, both of us happy to chill out until we’re called into action again. It’s these moments away from the play, when Ryan and I get to talk for real, I wish there were more of.

“So my landlord’s evicting me”, Ryan says. “I got home from the funeral and he was sat there leaning against my front door with this eviction letter in his hands.”

“Oh my God”, I say. “That sucks.”

“I feel pretty bad about it to be honest”, he says. “He’s a decent guy, and I’ve been behind on the rent for a while.”

“What are you going to?” I ask.

Ryan shrugs. “Something’ll come up, I’m sure. What I’m not doing is moving back in with my parents”, he says. “Every time I see them Dad wants to know why I haven’t got a proper job and Mom wants to know why I haven’t got a girlfriend.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Parents are the same wherever you are from”, I say, the coincidence incredible. “I get exactly the same just the other way round. I guess the irony that your job is your girlfriend is lost on them.”

Ryan laughs. “If only it were as easy as that to convince them”, he says, “they might leave me alone.”

“I’d offer you my sofa, but there’s already someone sleeping on it”, I say.

“Jessica still not made up with Dan?” he asks, his memory for the trivialities of my life incredibly impressive.

I shake my head. “Another cheater”, I say jokingly. “Men are all the same after all.”

“Not all men”, Ryan says. “I promise you I’m nothing like my character.”

“That’s refreshing to know”, I say. “Because this imaginary relationship is even more fucked up than my real ones have been.”

“Marshall’s way of forgiving himself”, Ryan says. “At least it’s fun. You get to hit me after all.”

He could have said kiss and I’d be nodding the same. “That part is true”, I say with a smile.

“Anyway”, Ryan goes on. “If we can find my dead great aunt’s will, I might not have to worry about getting chucked out after all.”

“You know you’ll have to share whatever you get with your wife”, I say. “I could do with a brand new wardrobe.”

“That depends on how well you behave”, Ryan says, playing along with the joke. “And how hard you hit me.”

“I can hit you as hard as you like”, I joke, “you just have to say the word.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows while I break into a smile, just to show I’m joking. “Do I get to choose where?” he asks.

“If you’re paying, honey, I’ll hit you wherever you like”, I say in a fake New Jersey accent.

“And you look so sweet and innocent”, Ryan says. “Who would have guessed that behind this quiet and innocent exterior lies a dominatrix waiting desperately to get out?”  

“What can I say?” I say, “acting alone doesn’t pay the bills. And it turns out I like leather way too much.”

“Kinky”, Ryan says, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, and we both fall about laughing.

“Don’t worry”, I say, just to make sure he hasn’t got the wrong idea. “I’m not into that anyway, even if you had enough money to pay me. Spanking maybe, but full on bondage with whips, chains, and safety words? Definitely not.”

“That’s a relief”, Ryan says. “I had wondered what you got up to after rehearsals.”

I laugh. “Nothing as interesting as that”, I say. “Just the usual boring stuff actors get up to when they haven’t got an audience.”

Ryan nods. “Deconstructing the day’s work and going over lines for the next”, he says. “Over and over again. I’ve barely got time to clean my apartment with everything else going on.”

“And people think we lead glamorous lives”, I add. “At least you might not have to worry about that next week.”

“Don’t remind me”, Ryan says. “Being homeless might seriously affect our relationship. You might not want to marry me after all.”

“Maybe you could stay here”, I say, only half-joking this time. “There’s practically a full apartment made up.”

“I think that might be a little too weird”, Ryan says. “Even though I’m sure Marshall would endorse it.”

“I’d probably still marry you anyway”, I say thoughtfully. “After all, I’m likely to be homeless too as well.”

“I’m gutted you’re not going to be around after the production is over”, Ryan says. “It’s going to feel weird when we’re not fighting, getting married, having dinner or sleeping in the same bed anymore.”

“You’ll be relieved, I’m sure”, I say. “No more screaming, crying, hitting or the kind of safe word bondage that you have to get a special licence for.”

I smile and Ryan returns it. “Maybe we should get Marshall to consider a few extra scenes, turn the steaminess up a notch”, he says. “It is a bit vanilla after all.”

“It is Marshall after all”, I say. “He doesn’t look like he’s the kind of guy that knows any other position but missionary.”

Ryan looks over at Marshall, who’s talking to the prop guys about the next scene, and then back over to me. Somehow we’ve got onto the subject of sex, and I can feel tingles up my spine because of it.

“I don’t know”, Ryan says. “Marshall could be exactly the kind of dark horse that’s into all of that stuff. I guess it’s not that kind of play, though, even with that massive bed.”

“Can you imagine Marshall’s reaction if we went off-script and pretended we were doing it under the covers?” I say, partly just to see how Ryan reacts.

“He’d flip his lid”, he says, laughing nervously and bringing color to his cheeks. “Especially if we did it on opening night. This is supposed to be for families after all.”

“No sex until marriage”, I say.

“Exactly”, Ryan confirms. “Even though you end up pregnant.”

“That was brought in by the storks, everyone knows that. It was an immaculate conception, a baby miracle.”

Ryan narrows his eyes at me. “Maybe it just wasn’t mine”, he guesses.

I gasp theatrically. “Are you accusing me of foul play?” I say.

“Well if the boot fits”, he says, puffing up his chest.

“One minute”, Marshall calls over.

“Have you ever done that?” I ask.

“Done what? Gone off script or got someone pregnant?”

“Get a script where you had to do it”, I say. “You know.”

“I had to do it once in a short film I made at college, that was the only time. They gave us both flesh coloured underwear and we had to grind against each other for about two hours until they decided they’d got enough footage. It wasn’t glamorous. I’ve never done it on stage. How about you?”

There is a subtlety to the way he asks the question as though he’s only doing so because I’ve asked him, and might not want to know the answer.

“You mean apart from bondage?” I begin.

“Apart from all the bondage”, Ryan says with a huge smile on his face.

I shake my head. “I’d be way too embarrassed, I think. And I know what you’re thinking, French girls take their clothes off all the time in films—.”

“I wasn’t thinking that”, Ryan interjects. “I’m far too chivalrous, and besides which, I’ve never seen Emmanuelle.”

I push his shoulder jokingly, and I think it’s the first time outside of our roles that I’ve touched him. “If I knew someone well enough”, I say quickly to cover it, “I could do it, but if it was someone I’d just met, it would be far too weird.”

“And if Marshall suddenly changed the script—?” Ryan says, in a way that makes it impossible for me to tell whether it’s something he’d want to do or not.

“Thankfully that’s not going to happen”, I say, and immediately realize how that might come across. “Not because I wouldn’t want to”, I say, trying to dig myself out and only succeeding in digging myself in further, “for me, I mean”, I finish, but Ryan’s already looking at me with eyes about as wide as trash can lids.

“O—kay”, he says. “But don’t worry, Marshall isn’t likely to ask you to put on those flesh colored panties and recreate Emmanuelle just yet, remember we haven’t even kissed.

“Time”, Marshall calls out, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve somehow done the opposite of what I wanted to.

Fuck I think, wishing that expletive were a question instead, and follow Ryan to the stage.