Yesterday was the first time we were alone in her house; sans siblings, sans parents, sans hired help. Sure, we’ve been alone in a room before, but those times there was always somebody at the other room. This one was definitely different.
We’ve done it about 20 times before. As a movie star, she has a public commitment to promote her shows at malls and other events, and she commissions me to make her minus one accompaniments. We then record her backing vocals at her home. I then mix the tracks and send her a copy which she then uses at her promos. Over that span of time I’ve gotten to know a side of her that she’s never shown her adoring public.
On screen, she’s the epitome of sensual cool. She’s confident, she knows what she wants, and she grabs it by the jugular. I can even name two of her onscreen performances which really moved me. Believe me when I say that I am seldom impressed by a local actor. She was able to do it twice.
It’s not like she hasn’t displayed that sensual cool before. The scandal she was involved in would have caused the average person to want to explain herself, like it did the other woman who was involved in it. But she, she just kept silent the whole time. Anyone who may have branded her a dirty slut would certainly be impressed by her reaction (or lack thereof) to what was supposed to be the most catastrophic event of her life. That quiet, confident woman is the one everyone has gotten to know.
However, whenever I’m alone with her, she’s this giddy school girl who seems unsure of what to do. She admits that I intimidate her and she asks me not to look at her while we’re recording, a habit that I’m wont to do and can’t help doing.
Before takes, she has these anxious moments where she shakes both her hands to limber up and she lets out this droning voice as if to convince herself that she’s a good singer. Her voice isn’t half bad, mind you. And she’s gotten better over the length of time we’ve been recording. Still, that anxiousness within her has remained.
Every time we record, I see an endearing puerility that gets under my skin. And it gets there each and every time. Yesterday, it got deeper than it ever has. Perhaps it was because there were only two of us that we were forced to let all our guards way down, just like being the last people on earth. You have to relate. How else would you survive?
I’m not saying that I didn’t like what was happening. I’m just uncomfortable with conversations. And when you’re alone with a person, you can’t help but ask prying questions about her, which is something I’m definitely not wont to do
But surprisingly, talking with her got easier by the minute. We talked about food, life, music, movies, music, and Justin Bieber. And Music. And Grayson Chance.
On the way home, she asked me, “Were you always this thin?” I told her yes, and that I thought eating was such a chore. I told her how I thought it was the most unproductive thing I do and if I could do without it, I won’t do it. She told me, “Weird ka talaga.” She then asked if I wanted to eat because she was treating me to a McDonald’s drive thru. I told her I’ll just have fries and a Coke. She asked if I wanted a Float. I told her no, and that combining ice cream with soda didn’t make sense to me. Again she remarked, “Weird ka talaga.”
Somehow, at day’s end, that was the farthest from what I really felt.
