Playing for Keeps (11 page)

Olivia nodded. “Closeness to the part is called perception of yourself in the part and the part in you. This will be an important aspect of your acting process. It isn’t just about executing the lines or the physical action, Noah. It’s about your own inner feelings and taking over the role of Ben as if it was your own life. We’ll go over the methods and tools you’ll need to use to fulfill the obligations of the material.”

“I really do want to bring Ben’s character to life on the stage.”

“The fact that you understand the theme of Madison’s play is key,” she told him and then paused.

“But?”

“Always remember that you are bringing your vision of the play to the audience. You can understand your part and sympathize with the character, but you also need to put yourself in Ben’s place so that you will act as he would.” Olivia leaned over and tapped his chest. “Use your own feelings, and when you speak the lines they will be coming from your heart alone, not even from Madison’s.” She settled back in her chair. “Does that make sense?”

Noah nodded. “On the soap I memorized the lines but never really put myself into the role of Jesse Drake. I pretended, but I didn’t really feel as if I was him. But I get it. I just hope I can do it.”

Olivia took a sip of her tea. “The big difference between the art of an actor and all other arts is that in all other arts the artist creates when he is inspired or in the mood. Actors in the theater must call forth inspiration during the actual hours of the performance. Not always an easy task.”

“The-show-must-go-on kind of thing?”

“Exactly. And I’m sure you experienced some of that during your baseball career. You had to go out there and play ball and give it your all whether you felt like it or not.”

Noah nodded. “As a relief pitcher I had to be ready at a moment’s notice and of course come into the game during a stressful situation.”

“So you understand.”

“Absolutely. I didn’t realize there were so many parallels.”

“To tell you the truth, me neither!” She seemed excited about the revelation and waved her slice of pizza in the air. “And, Noah, to be a truly great actor you have to draw from your life experiences.”

“Oh, I have plenty of that . . .”

“Then you use affective memory recall.”

“Um, explain, please?”

“This is an emotional preparation technique used to reactivate an emotional or psychological experience from a past event and then trick your psyche into thinking it is the present.”

“How in the world do you do that?”

“You answer the questions that you ask yourself with your senses, not with words.”

Noah leaned back in his chair. “Oh, boy . . .”

“Hey, we’ll do some exercises, and after a while it will come as second nature. As an athlete you have a couple of key things going for you that will help you. First, you have to believe in yourself and be confident onstage. If not, you will never convince the audience. As a professional pitcher you have to have this same kind of belief in your ability or you would never get the ball over the plate.”

“True again.” Noah nodded in agreement.

“As a pro athlete you have had amazing life experiences. And to be a great actor you have to live life a little over-the-top. Know what’s going on around you. Understand human nature. What did you feel when you were on the mound pitching?”

“I had to get into the head of the batter. Outsmart him.” He tapped his head. “Yeah, and understand human nature.”

“The sign of a great actor. I bet that every move you made on that mound had a motive. A reason for the particular action.”

Noah nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

“That’s how it is in a play. Every movement across the stage has a reason. Your actions should be based on inner feelings. For homework I want you to go through the entire play, find the right physical actions, and imagine yourself executing them from start to finish. This will help you grasp the role concretely and you will sense a real kinship with Ben.”

“Okay. It sounds like an interesting exercise and I get why it will help.”

“Great! I’m going to do the same thing with the role of Amy. It’s the first step in merging with and living with your part. Make a list of physical actions you would do if you found yourself in the same situation as Ben. It really brings the character to life.”

Noah put another slice of pizza on his plate and then offered Olivia one. She seemed to feel more at ease with him, and he found her knowledge fascinating. “I’ll be honest. I’m intimidated by live theater.”

Olivia leaned forward. “Noah, you’ve been performing before a crowd almost all of your life.”

“Oh, this is way different.”

She shrugged. “Yes, but then again, in baseball you wanted to engage the crowd. You were still entertaining. In theater you have to engage the audience as well. You want them to pull for you much like cheering fans. When you engage the audience you’ll feel it. You wouldn’t pitch as well to an empty stadium, right? You know how it feels to have the crowd on your side. The spectators are a creative participant in the performance. There’s nothing like it!” Her face flushed with excitement, and she reached over and put her hand on his forearm. While there wasn’t anything sexual or even flirty about the gesture, Noah was acutely aware of her small hand resting on his skin, and when she pulled away he wanted to reach over and put her hand right back.

“I sure know the rush of playing before an excited crowd.”

She nodded briskly. “You want them not to just sit there and watch but to have an emotional experience. Talk about it all the way home.” Her smile had him smiling, and the sparkle in her eyes made her pretty face glow. “Noah,
Just One Thing
is excellent work! We have to do it justice.”

Feeling compelled to touch her, Noah reached over and put his big hand over her smaller one and left it there. Her eyes widened just slightly, and her quick intake of breath told him that Madison was right. There was chemistry between them that couldn’t be denied. But Noah knew he had to be careful. Olivia was a sweet, trusting soul and could easily be hurt. He needed to put his emotion into the play and try to keep his distance otherwise.

Lofty plan . . . he just didn’t know if he could do it.

O
livia crumbled crackers into her bowl of vegetable soup and then dipped her spoon into the savory broth. Between school and rehearsals with Noah she hadn’t been to Myra’s Diner very often lately, and she had been missing her favorite country classics. After taking a generous bite, she looked up from her perch on a swivel stool at the front counter and motioned for Jessica Robinson to come over.

“Something wrong, Olivia?” Jessica tucked a lock of dark gold hair behind her ear and leaned one hip against the counter.

“On the contrary.” Olivia pointed her spoon at the steaming bowl. “This soup is divine.”

“Why, thank you,” Jessica replied with a grin. “And by the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you that you look so cute without the bun. I never knew you had such a pretty natural wave.”

“It was your daughter’s doing.” Olivia angled her head at Madison, who was sitting next to her.

“Oh, if I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that particular phrase.” Jessica shook her head at Madison, who gave her mother a look. “She still manages to stir up trouble.”

“I learned from the master,” Madison shot back. “‘Say what you mean and mean what you say,’” she mimicked, but then grinned at her mother. “You taught me to speak my mind and to stand up for myself. Gets me into hot water sometimes.”

“It’s better than getting taken advantage of, and it seems to have served you well,” Jessica responded and blew her daughter a kiss. “Like mother, like daughter?”

Madison nodded. “With a big dose of Aunt Myra tossed into the mix. Speaking my mind and a little bit wacky.” She put the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Heaven help me.”

Olivia watched the exchange with envy. When Olivia was just a little girl, her own mother had gone off to study art in Savannah while her father supported her and funded her dream, only to learn that she was having an affair with a professor. She never returned to what she referred to as a stifling small-town existence. Although Olivia’s father didn’t know it, a few years ago her mother had tried to contact her, but Olivia couldn’t push past the pain and had refused her call. She wondered if her mother’s rejection of her life and home had made her, Olivia, even more protective of Cricket Creek, but she shook off the hurt like she always did and took another bite of her soup.

“Hey, Mom. Olivia is right. The soup rocks. Did you do something different?”

Jessica shrugged her slim shoulders. “Maybe. You know me—a little of this, a pinch of that, and then taste as I go. Sometimes I add leftover vegetables of the day so as not to waste them.”

Olivia arched her eyebrows. “Instead of ‘the soup rocks’ . . . it’s really rock soup.”

Madison nodded. “I get it. Like the fable?”

After swallowing another bite, Olivia nodded in agreement. “Yes, it started with the fable about the soldier using a rock to get villagers to add ingredients to his rock soup, but it’s now used to describe soup made from anything you find in your pantry.”

“You two are too much.” Jessica laughed, but then she said thoughtfully, “Y’know . . . I think I’m going to call the vegetable soup ‘Rock Soup’ on the new menu for Wine and Diner. I’ve been trying to come up with fun things to add and I like that! Maybe we can think of some other similar stories or fables. But to answer your question, daughter-who-thinks-microwaving-is-cooking, the basic ingredients are the same, but every batch has its own personality.”

Madison raised her palms upward in question. “Why would I learn to cook when my mom and aunt own a diner?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Why indeed?”

“Mom, you are the only one I know who gives human qualities to food.”

“There’s a name for that.” Olivia tapped her spoon against her bowl and then brightened. “ ‘Anthropomorphism.’ ”

“Not ‘personification’?” Madison asked.

“I suppose one could argue either one,” Olivia replied. “But I think ‘anthropomorphism’ is more correct.”

“And
that’s
why I went to culinary school instead of college,” Jessica said, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “English makes my head hurt.”

“Oh, Mom, you’re so full of it,” Madison told her. “You’re as smart as they come and you know it. Head chef at a four-star restaurant? Um, you’re no slouch, Mother dear. I’m sure the Chicago Blue Bistro misses you.”

Jessica patted her daughter’s hand. “Ah, but it’s much more fun making Rock Soup.”

“And less stress, I imagine,” Olivia commented while she crunched more crackers into her bowl.

“The remodeling hasn’t been without stress, but Jason and his crew are doing a bang-up job,” Jessica admitted. “The addition is going to be fabulous. Jason even came up with a see-through fireplace to connect the two rooms. I love it!”

“That does sound fabulous.” Olivia slid a glance at Madison, who pretended to be concentrating on her soup, but the color in her cheeks told a different story. “Jason is a good guy and a hard worker.”

“Not to mention easy on the eyes,” Myra added as she came out from the kitchen with a heavy tray of food hoisted on her shoulder. “Makes me want to add another room just to have him around in tight shirts and a tool belt.”

“The scary part is that she’s serious.” Jessica rolled her eyes and then turned her attention to Olivia. “I hope that by expanding and having a bit of a coffee shop and bistro vibe but keeping the comfort food favorites we’ll bring in some folks from the burbs, along with more tourists. I’m even thinking of having music on Friday and Saturday nights, and if things go well we might extend the patio so patrons can dine alfresco. Jason said he can do brick pavers, and Aunt Myra said that your father can add some landscaping.”

“Dad would love that,” Olivia said. “All we need is a reason for both locals and tourists to come back into town. Success will breed success. It will liven up the marina too. I sure miss seeing boats on the river.” Olivia folded her hands on the table. “I know I’ve said it before, but we are so lucky to have you and Madison back here.”

“You got that right!” Myra Robinson announced as she pushed through the kitchen double doors again, this time with two fat slices of apple pie. “It’s good to have my girls back.” She set the plates down in front of Madison and Olivia. “Thought you two could use something sweet.”

Olivia eyed the pie. “Mmmm, I shouldn’t.”

“Oh, go for it,” Madison said. “That’s been my motto lately.” Olivia noticed that Madison’s comment drew a look of interest from Jessica.

Olivia thought of her own “Just do it” motto and grinned. “Mottoes are fun. We should all have one.”

“Wanna hear mine?” Myra asked.

“No!” Jessica answered and then everybody laughed.

“Do you want the pie?” Madison asked again. “Baked fresh this morning.”

“Oh, stop tempting me. I really shouldn’t . . .”

“Well, well.” Myra gave Olivia a wide, sassy grin and flipped her long braid over her shoulder. “Maybe you’re gettin’ some sugar someplace else? Like from a certain hunky baseball player?” She wiggled her hips, making her big hoop earrings dance back and forth. Olivia had always admired Myra’s style, a funky mix of hippie with a Southern flair that only she could pull off.

“Aunt Myra!” Jessica scolded and turned to Olivia. “Don’t mind her. She is such a busybody.”

Myra slapped the thighs of her vintage Levi’s. “Oh, like Olivia isn’t? She’s always trying to hook people up.”

“Tell me about it,” Madison chimed in.

“I don’t know what y’all are talkin’ about.” Olivia tried to appear innocent, without much success.

Myra rolled her eyes. “Your Southern drawl is getting heavy, which could mean only one thing.”