Typing in Circles : A Jesse Eisenberg fanfiction

2

     The house smelled of coffee. I looked around the living room, and kitchen, for what seemed to be the thirtieth time this evening. It was around 7pm. I propped myself up on to the kitchen counter, inspecting it while giving my feet a rest. The microwave caught my eye. I never ate my popcorn. I sighed, smiling to myself over my stupidity. I decided it wasn't worth having now. I chuckled to myself, like a dork, as I threw it out. Then, well, the doorbell rang.
     I took a deep breath before opening the door. A tall, bald, but husky, man stood in the doorway. I moved out of the way to let him in. He had a nice smile, pearly white teeth. His gait seemed jolly and he was dressed nicely in a suit. He spun on his heel to face the doorway as, who I assumed was the actor he referred to, walked in. His gait wasn't as confident and he wasn't all that tall either. On his nose sat thin brimmed glasses and he was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a blazer over a shirt. It brought a smile to my face to see the contrast in men standing in my living room. Good thing too, I needed the most genuine smile I could conjure up to greet these guys.

"Hi! Hello, Mr. Steele!" The bald man shook my hand. I smiled up at him. He had to be at least six foot. I suddenly felt really short at 5'4. He turned to the man in the glasses. "This here, this is Jesse." I held my hand to him. He took it quickly, shook it gently, and then shoved his hands back in to his jean pockets.
"Nice to meet you both." I kept the smile. "Please, take a seat somewhere. I made coffee! Would you like some?" I looked at both of them.
"I'd love a cup! A little cream, only one sugar." He paused. "You know, if you have it!" Mr. Steele mentioned enthused.
"No, no thank you. I can't drink coffee. It makes me even more fidgety than I already am." He gave me an awkward smile and then took a seat on the couch.

     I made my way to the kitchen and felt my hands clamming. Was I nervous? Of course I was nervous. I took a mug out from the cabinet and poured a cup of the coffee. The aroma wondered up to my nostrils. I took a deep, steady, breath. Exhaling, I tried to focus on only the smell. When my anxiety starts to act up, the best way to overcome it quickly is to ground myself in to one of my senses.

"Mr. Steele?" I yelled from the kitchen. "Would you like a snack? I have some cookies in here."
"No! No thank you. Jesse would you like some?"
"No, no I'm alright."

     I made up Mr. Steele's coffee the way he had asked and grabbed a napkin to set it on. Carefully, as if I were walking on a tightrope, I brought his coffee in to the living room. I set it on the small table closest to him, and took a seat on a small chair I pulled up closer to them.

"So, Evelyn. Tell me, why I haven't seen any of this play's drafts?"
"To be honest, I'm not quite sure how you even found it. I've been sending it to industries here in New York, not in London."
"You must be aware that I have connections here as well, right?" He stifled a small chuckle.
"Right, of course." I nodded, subconsciously rubbing my fingers together.

     I watched Mr. Steele as he sipped on his coffee. He sat up straight, both feet planted on the ground. He leaned forward just slightly. Jesse sat with his legs crossed, his hands on one knee. I shifted a bit in my own seat. It was making me self-conscious about how I was sitting.

"Ah! This coffee is delicious! It really hits the spot. Thank you." I nodded to him with a small smile. "Anyway, I'd like to help you get your play produced here in New York. I thought a nice place for its debut would be at the Cherry Lane Theater. Have you heard of it?"

"Of course! It's a cute little place, fit for an intimate audience." Jesse nodded at my response.
"Well what do you think? Would you be interested?"
"Who would say no?" I asked playfully.
"Hopefully not you." He sipped on his coffee. "Jesse here is an actor. He writes his own plays. Phenomenal writer if you ask me." Jesse shook his head timidly, readjusting his posture nervously.
"The world is full of writer's better than myself." He assured me. "But thank you."
"Funny, you say the same thing when people compliment your movie roles."
"Well, you know." He pressed his lips together, widening his eyes. I smiled.
"Anyway, Evelyn. Don't listen to him. He's too intelligent to argue with, but take my word for it. He has visions, and your play is the type of genre he enjoys working with."
"Really?" I must have sounded surprised, because they both appeared surprised to hear my response's tone?
"Really. We were in London for a while because Jesse wrote an incredible play. It was a very personal, and exploratory, comedy."
"I played Ben." Jesse informed me.
"Yes, he played Ben. Nobody really likes Ben, but everyone likes Jesse." Jesse's smile became coy and almost dismissive as he rolled his eyes.
"I would have loved to have seen it!" The tone in my voice changed from confused to chipper instantly.
"Perhaps you'll get to see the next one." Mr. Steele nudged Jesse's arm playfully. "Anywho, Jesse is free for a bit and agreed to help direct your play."
"Mine? Really? You read it?"
"I did. Twice so far actually. It's very poignant, witty. I enjoyed it a lot. The humor was desiccated, the kind I prefer." One of his hands waved a little in place as he spoke. I felt warm, a flattered type of warm.
"Thank you. That...means more to me than it may seem."
"It always does." Mr. Steele jumped in. "Now, Jesse has helped to direct his own plays. He'll be directing his own short story's movie portrayal as well but--"
"You write novellas too?" I questioned intrigued.
"Jesse doesn't like to talk about it." Mr. Steele jumped back in with a chuckle. "Don't tell me you write stories too?"
"I wish. That's where  I started. I always tried to, but would end up with a bazillion separate documents that don't relate to each other at all written in first person."
"They don't have to though, to make a collection." Jesse chimed in.
"Back it up." Mr. Steele took over again. I couldn't help but laugh lightly. "What I was saying is, this will be the first project Jesse helps to direct that isn't his own. He's been directed in movies, and he's directed his own works, but has yet to collaborate. Here's his chance, and yours."
"You want me to direct this thing?" I questioned.
"Absolutely." Jesse added. "I wouldn't opt to do this without the original author! They know what they've envisioned better than the rest of us."
"I...right, okay, sure." I nodded.
"But Jesse refuses to jump in to this immediately."
"That'd be an unfortunate blind spot, don't you think?"
"Not really, no." Mr. Steele sighed.
"I do. I'm sure there are fragments of her in the play. I want it to stay as true to her original visualizations as possible. To help with that, I have to remotely have an idea of what she's like on some level."

     His hand waved around a bit again. I watched it. He was right. At least, I thought so. I could tell he was both introverted and observant. I felt the palms of my hands begin to sweat copiously. I budged in my seat yet again. The idea made me nervous. I felt almost as if I had to be extra cautious of how I spoke, sat, and all around expressed myself. He had to have an eye for details.  I must have been wrapped up in my own thoughts longer than I thought. Before I knew it I was walking them to the door.

"It was nice meeting you Evelyn..."
"Corrigan!" I stated to Jesse.

"Corrigan. I assure you I'll try to remember that." He nodded to himself. "Eisenberg, by the way. Jesse Eisenberg." I felt my head tilt.

"I can promise you, I'll most likely forget that."
He chuckled. "That's comforting actually."

"Yeah?"
"Yeah, usually people don't. Makes it hard to, you know, live." He joked.
"Damn, now I'll have to remember it Mr. Eisenberg."
"Oh please no. Call me Jesse."