Shattered Chemistry

SC : The Play

The vision was there, but the execution was M.I.A. Only three weeks left before the opening show and Harper just couldn't act. Don't get me wrong, she had the aura and presence I was looking for, but there was something awkward about her movements and delivery that just wasn't working. Every time we ran through her scenes, I could now help but wince at her delivery.

"This is not working," I remarked. For every passing moment, I could feel my forehead creases deepen from frowning.

"I know, Owen. I am fully aware. I've been telling you for a week now that I can't do this. Why are you still pushing me?" Harper responded, more annoyed than should be.

"I was desperate," I blurted out, feeling a surge of frustration that I had been keeping bottled up for too long. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at me. I knew they were all aware of the problem, but it was still uncomfortable to be the one to bring it up. "At the time, you were the only candidate who fit the physical presence of the character," I explained.

There was a tense moment of silence before I continued. "But it's been a week of rehearsals now, Harper. You should have a better idea of how to play the part by now. It's just not working."

"Well, that's it for your show now, then?" She remarked.

"No. Just..." I couldn't think of whatever solution that could help her.

"Just what? I am doing my best here, Owen. Maybe the problem isn't just me," she said with a tinge of annoyance.

"What? What are you implying now, Harper? That my direction is the problem here?" I retorted, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could. "We both agreed on the vision for this. I've been working tirelessly to make it a reality. But I can't do it alone, Harper. I need you to step up. Please."

Harper looked away, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought she was going to walk out and quit. But after what felt like an eternity, Harper finally turned back to me, her eyes locking onto mine. "Okay, I'll try," she murmured, her voice low and husky and I couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have her say those words in a different context. A shiver ran down my spine at the sound of it. I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as her words ignited a strange feeling inside me

Before anyone would notice how I reacted, I turned around and said, "Meet me after rehearsals later, Harper," I said, trying to make my voice low and intense. We can work on your scenes together." As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how they might sound. I cleared my throat and turned to the rest of the cast. "Okay, everyone, let's proceed to the next scene, please," I added, trying to sound more composed than I felt.

The hours leading up to the end of rehearsals were a blur for me. There was something about the way Harper looked at me that made my thoughts hazy and my mind cloudy. I wasn't thinking straight. Now, I can't avoid the inevitability of having to work with her alone. The mere thought of being in close proximity to her made my heart race and my palms sweat. Working with her in the presence of others was already distracting enough, but now, whatever it is that I am feeling, was too much to handle.

I mindlessly shuffled through the papers on the desk, my thoughts wandering aimlessly. Suddenly, Harper appeared in front of me, her voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Something on your mind, Owen?" she asked, her eyes locked onto mine. There it is again, the way she said my name is enough to fog my brain.

"Uh, no," I stuttered. "Nothing. Let's start with your first scene, act one scene three."

"Okay." Harper fished through her backpack for her copy of the script.

My mind kept wandering to her presence, her aura. It was too distracting, and I couldn't focus. I found myself over-explaining how to act to her, feeling the need to prove myself to her. But as soon as she gave me that look, the one that screamed "please stop mansplaining," I snapped out of it and stopped myself mid-sentence.