Life Among the Pastures

Dear Gregory

After auditions, I received a call a few days later that they made a final decision to cast me as Nina Fortner in the film Monster. Like you, I had trouble sleeping in the last few days because my mind spun in too many circles from auditions that it deprived my sleep. Am I going to get in? Did I mess up during auditions? After the news of my acceptance reached me, I finally could sleep in peace---away from the turmoil that was going on within the world and seclude myself from the ever-running cycle of human ignorance. During auditions, there was an Asian lady competing against me to be cast as Nina Fortner. I watched the performance in awe since she looked omnipotent when she got in character, and I was betting that she would get the role. In front of the director, the way she spoke and the emotions expressed in the slightest of movements conveyed the depths to the character that I simply could not duplicate.

But then, the director ushered her to come heather and the film staff behind the panel exchanged some brief words with her.  I wouldn't say the brief exchange was by any means reassurance or compliments since she wore a face of defeat when she came out.
"What happened?" I asked her after reading her face.

"They're not looking for Asians for this role," she simply said and walked off on the path of shame, leaving my face in utter disbelief. At that moment, the distant sprinkles of memory in high school took form in my head. I always wondered why Midori always sat alone throughout high school. Maybe she wanted to be alone, I thought foolishly until her grades began to decline after freshman year. She excelled in math but was given the cold shoulder by her peers and still was ostracized from everyone else in a predominantly white, Catholic school. One of the kids would gossip about her in secrecy, saying, "Well, she's Asian after all," when she was lavished with praises by the teacher. This went on over the years, and I assume she noticed those things from her peers, but she showed no indication to try to respond to those provocations. After that, math became her worst subject.

After we met on the roof of the school, we continued to meet a couple of times. During lunch, she would bring food from home in the form of cute, little lunch trays that consisted of food made with her motherly affection from home. She said her mother made the best onigiri, seaweed rice balls, and would happily share it with me. I exchanged the home-made cheesy pasta with her onigiris. It was definitely no better than her onigiris, but she still ate the pasta in a delightful manner as satisfaction lit across her face---not because she liked the pasta, but because she's made a "friend".
Few weeks later, she started bringing in plain sandwiches and a Caprisun, and stopped bringing over any cultural foods. I asked her why, she simply said that she was tired of eating Japanese food every day for lunch. I nodded off and didn't think much about it until it turned out that that wasn't the case. I was in the bathroom when I eavesdropped on a clique of girls babbling on about the odor that lingered during lunch. One of them pointed out that the smell came from the foreign food that Midori would always bring to school. They also said that she was apparently having a lunch companion, so after that, I dissociated myself from Midori for a few weeks until the rumors died down.

Maybe that was why Midori decided to move to Japan because she had enough with the school. What was saddening was that during one of the shootings of my debut film, I received the news that Midori took her own life. I'm sorry, Greg. I am weak, so call me whatever you want. I'm simply just not as brave as you are, going against the grain of the ignorant beings in this world.

When I found your book resting against my foot, I took it home and decided to finally crack open a book for some insight into literary intellect, hopefully. After reclining against my bed sheets in the apartment, my eyelids could not simply open to witness the words on the page throughout the whole book and was overtaken by sleep. Like in your letter, the pastures were in my dream, but I saw physical cows in the distance that slowly approached me from the ridges on the edge of the green earth. When the herd of cows came to a halt before my feet, their heads bowed reverently until their noses touched the brims of the sharp grass.

What do you think these dreams are supposed to be, Greg?