From New York with love • seulrene

From New York with love

She looked up at me as she sits on her chair, her make-up halfway done as two people scurry around her doing and styling her sleek light brunette hair.

               “Uhm, yes?” she asked uncertainly, her eyes a bit confused as she searches for the right words to say. She’s not very fluent in English and she usually appears somewhat timid whenever she has to talk to people in it.

               In my line of job, I have worked with countless of actors and actresses and even some famous ones on rare occasions. Because of my work, I sometimes talk to the artists myself so I’m pretty used to it already. I am a script editor. Someone who checks and yes, edits the work of the scriptwriters. In some special circumstances, I personally explain the tone of the script to the actors especially when language barrier is present. Just as it is today.

               I smiled, a practiced one, and stooped down near her chair. She is now a few inches taller than me.

               “I am here to explain the script to you,” I said, making sure that I speak slower than I normally would. “You know, just study the script,” I continued while waving the papers I’m holding.

               She nodded her head but her eyes still reflect confusion. She smiled awkwardly as one of her make-up artists applies lipstick on her thin yet firm lips. I stood up and sat on a chair next to her. For the next twenty minutes, I sat there on the chair just watching her getting her hair done and her make-up done. Finally, after her mascara application, the two assistants stepped away and moved to the other actresses in the set.

               She looked at me apologetically. “I am sorry. It’s long.”

               I smiled and shrugged my head. “Don’t worry about it. Have you memorised your lines?”

               She nodded quickly. Then with slight hesitation, she said, “But I am not really confident.”

               “Don’t worry,” I gave her a copy of the script which she took earnestly. “I will read lines with you and I’ll tell you how exactly you need to say them.”

               She looked relieved and immediately browsed through the papers for her parts.

               I studied her face as she immersed herself on the script. Her lines are very limited and she will usually just smile and pose and act cute in front of the camera. Anyone can deliver her line and act casual with it as there isn’t much there to memorise. But she looked absolutely terrified and nervous about the whole thing. I heard Koreans do take their job seriously so I guess it’s her feeling inadequate that really bothers her a lot.

               “Okay. Let’s do this.”

               The shoot was a success and surprisingly short. Everyone was doing the scenes perfectly and the director was pleased at the pace we finished the set. Even the Korean actress was perfect in delivering her three short lines.

               Speaking of whom, I saw one of the actors, a not so famous playboy who just flirts the whole day every time he’s in the set, talking to her after they did their scene. She was laughing at his probably dumb and stupid jokes but the guy is hot and he knows it. He’s probably feeling adventurous to take home an Asian today, I thought.

               I was born Asian but was raised in the US by my grandparents. My parents died in a car accident when I was very little and I have very limited recollection about them so thinking about parents really does not make me tear up as most would think. I grew up as a very level-headed Asian girl who took up Creative Writing as her major despite protestations from her beloved granny.