The Double

𝒮𝒾𝓍

Duna's assistant, Ira, takes me aside, and by four in the afternoon, I'm exhausted, my hand cramped from writing notes on little Irvine notepads with black Irvine pens. Ira is an unsmiling, infinite encyclopedia of all things Duna. I have notes on what the actress refuses to eat, what designers she wears, her favorite words and phrases. even more mind-blowing is the knowledge that all this is necessary because there are enough people in the world who know Lee Duna would never, ever touch an orange vegetable that to eat a carrot would make the news. I'm filled with shock at how little of Duna's life is private and awe that I think I can pull this off.

Eventually Ira excuses herself to take care of some business so I'm alone as I shake out my hand and watch another plane lift off from the airport. My exhilaration of earlier has bottomed out to stunned disbelief over what I've gotten myself into. I look at the positives: I'm making money and it's frankly far more interesting than lying in bed surfing job boards. If life hands you lemons and all that.

In the afternoon summer light, sailboats swoop over the ocean, tipping this way and that with the wind. That's what I thought movie-star life was: leisure, beach holidays, and shopping. I forgot the work that got them there. Ira mentioned that Duna hasn't been on a real vacation in four years; even when she takes breaks, she appears at events and prepares for roles. Her life sounds stifling and it's surprise she wants a breather.

Well, it's what she chose, and when I turn from the window to grab an artisanal yuzu-infused sparkling water from the full-size but inconspicuous refrigerator, I decide it has its benefits.

Sipping the water straight from the can, I flip through my notes. There are pages upon pages, and even looking at them depresses me. None of my usual to-do-lists are up for this level of organization, but I need one to make this happen. I get stressed without those lists, those checks. I need the perfect system to organize this.

Make your own, then. Anna's words dance in front of me in bright-pink neon. I put the drink down. I've been creating a planning-system wish lists for ages, but it never once occurred to me that instead of trying to make other processes fit my life, I could make my own.

Now that the idea has been planted, I want to try it. What can go wrong, after all? I mess up a to-do list? Even I can deal with that.

"Are you ready to leave?" Ira comes into the room. "Ms. Lee will be too busy to see you again."

"I'm ready."

We decided I'd move over to the Irvine the day after next. In the meantime, I have notes to go over and a long list of Duna's English and subtitled Korean interviews to watch and read. Duna in news footage. A complete biography of Duna's life. A full filmography.

I look at the list now and wrinkle my nose. This is a lot of content to consume, even for the most dedicated couch potato. "Do I have to know all of them?"

"I've starred the most important," Ira says. "Those you must watch immediately. People quote lines from the movies at Ms. Lee."

When I get back in two days, Ira will have a schedule for me. we've decided to explain my presence at the hotel saying I'm a local makeup artist and family friend, and Duna is doing my auntie a favor by letting me work on her to build my clientele. Until then, I'm free to go home and binge on Lee Duna trivia, have Anna come over (twice a week, which is more than usual but it's been a very strange few days), and think about how I'm going to deal with Taehyung.

I put on my sunglasses and leave, Ira shutting the door firmly behind me.

Down the lobby, no one looks twice and the familiar veil of inconspicuousness falls over me. Will that change by next week? I think it will and I feel my chin rise. There's a Suzy there who's tired of being overlooked, even though it's entirely of my own doing. Is that the real reason I took this job?