Unscripted love

26. On One Leg

October 2018

Can

Look ahead. Move forward. Forget the pain.

I've been repeating these words to myself for days, weeks.

Six weeks. I brood over my pain in secret, alone, in the darkness of my flat, a glass of whisky between my fingers.

I remember being a student, laughing at my friends in love and sad, I thought it would never happen to me. So far I'd been quite successful.

I smile cynically at my own distress between sips. My demons resurface. I still believe that alcohol will drive away the pain.

You know what it's like now buddy.

If only I knew why. Why? Why did you do it? Why did you do it?

I tried to get answers, but to no avail. The first version remained the same as all those that followed.

Burak and Nasli do their best to take my mind off it. Even Beste takes news, incredulous about her best friend's decision.

I've hit the jackpot! I have to work "almost" every day with THE person in charge, Demet.

And the worst thing is that this grief almost serves my game. We are currently shooting episodes where our characters are in complicated and conflicting situations.

Between two raised eyebrows Cagri can't believe his eyes, we are as good at love as we are at hate...yes.

Off the stage, I alternate between denial, disinterest and even disdain. But even that is a constant struggle. I force myself to be angry with her and at other times I am really angry. I don't understand how she manages to act as if nothing had happened, as if we had always been the friends she pretends we are.

Maybe another reason I suffer so much is that I can't let go...always hoping for a change, a step backwards.

Why do I sometimes feel her so close to cracking up?

Am I completely mixing fiction and reality?

Maybe it's been like this from the beginning?

Fourth glass of whisky. The ice cubes bang against the crystal. My eyes will be swollen in the morning.

Demet

Routines follow one another and are not alike.

Some last longer than others.

I've wrapped my heart in tape and squeezed it so tight that sometimes it feels like it's going to come out of my chest.

Even for an actress it's hard to pretend. No script is written, I've been composing for weeks.

It's the story of my life, of the choices I've made. Always smiling, even on rainy days, always showing your best face and smiling at the happiness that comes from having a life full of promise.

But this look, these eyes that implore me to understand, I find it hard to sustain their intensity.

The ritual of ignorance, the ignorance of having been more, so much more...

***

A final make-up adjustment in my caravan and I take a determined step out in front of the agency where a moving scene between our two characters is to take place.