ROMEO'S HEART

Ethan - At First Sight

Westchester, New York

Auditions for The Grove

I look into her eyes and try to feel ... something. Any glimmer of connection that will help prove to Erika I'm not an emotional black hole.

Olivia and I are practicing the mirror exercise. She holds up her hand and moves it slowly to the side. I mimic her as I breathe. My emotional EKG is a flat line. It seems appropriate, considering this fucking exercise is going to be the death of me. It's the one thing standing between me and something I'm still able to get passionate about. I've auditioned for The Grove twice now and been knocked back both times because of this exercise. So now I'm desperate to nail it, before I strike out for the third and final time.

It sucks that I can feel Olivia willing me to do well, even though I treat her like crap. I'm aware it's not fair to her, but that's what I do. Punish other people for my pain. Play the bad guy, because there's not enough good in me anymore to even pretend.

"Picture your chest opening up," Olivia says as she continues to move. "Like there's a giant spotlight inside you, and it's shining into my chest. That's how I feel when I'm performing Juliet. I mean, Liam is head over heels for some girl who he refuses to name, but when he's playing Romeo, he loves me, totally and completely. That's what Erika is looking for in this exercise."

"Sappy stage love?"

She rolls her eyes. "Opening yourself to the other person. Connecting with them."

She should know. She auditioned last year and got in. I'd like to say I'm a big enough man to not resent her for that, but I can't. Of course, I didn't even know her back then. We met a few months ago, when we both auditioned for the Tribeca Shakespeare Festival's production of Romeo and Juliet. She got Juliet, I got Mercutio, and now we're in our final week of rehearsal before opening night.

I don't know when we officially started dating, or even if what we're doing could be called dating. We got drunk one night after rehearsals and made out, and it sort of went from there. She's a nice enough girl, but she wants more than I can give. Story of my life with women recently.

It's pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that I'm an asshole. I don't try to hide it. Yet I have more girls trying to be with me now than when I was still mostly decent. It's like they're begging to get hurt.

And I do hurt them. Every time, without fail.

Still, it's not like they don't know what's going on. I'm honest with them from the start. I tell them I'm not interested in a girlfriend. I make it very clear I don't want a relationship. Occasional make-out sessions and sex is all I'm looking for, and even then it's more like I'm an android play-acting at being human. Physical pleasure is the only thing these days that convinces me I'm still capable of feeling anything other than anger. As soon as girls start pressuring me for more, I dump them. Short. Sharp. Definite.

Painful for them, freeing for me.

No wonder Erika keeps flunking me. Not many roles out there for man-shaped pieces of shit.

I bring my attention back to the exercise and focus on the image of opening up my chest to reveal my "light." A heart light. Great. Now I'm fucking ET. In my mind, it's a sputtering flashlight in a dank, drafty cave.

I'd laugh at my lameness if I wasn't so fucking terrified.

Come on, Holt. There's got to be something in that shriveled organ you call a heart. One little corner of normalcy. That's all you need to display. A small oasis of sensation in your endless desert of numb.