#amlet

THE MAGIC IF

 -I don’t like it at all.- she barely holds back a laugh, looking away from the frown of her boyfriend. -Among all the dramas, you had to choose just that one?- he drives her crazy when he shows jealous. He's too soft, it reminds her of what Kevin did with Derek, only that she didn’t think that also one like his current boy could do such paranoia.

-Do you know it's just fake?- it's not the first time they've dealt with a similar theme. -It's not me the one that will kiss Carl, Ophelia and Hamlet will make love.- she takes his hands and sits down next to him on the bed. -Luke, do you think I could ever be attracted, I mean seriously attracted, by another man, when I got all this well of God available?- the man's pouting melts when he hears her use that explicit and provocative flirting tone.

-I'm not the only man in the universe, unfortunately.- he replies, chuckling. -And I don’t want another guy to put his dirty hands on you. I really had to find a theater lover, damned?- she hits him on the shoulder.

After all the dramas that I forced you to see with me you haven’t yet understood that it's all a wonderful illusion?- inside him he knows that the woman is right, but this doesn’t change the elementary fact that he is jealous about the idea that she kisses another man, whether it's for fake or not. But how can the engaged couples, the wives of the actors handle these things? And those who have to play even more burning scenes? Better not to think about it. Fortunately for him, her is just a hobby. -Everything depends on the magic if. You know that game you were doing as children, let's pretend that... and we became trees, little birds, whatever we wanted? It is essentially based on that. I have to think, eat, move as if I were Ophelia, I have to get into her head. And when I go on stage, I'm not your girlfriend anymore, I'm not Penelope, I'm not a computer analyst. I cease to be myself to leave my body to another being, a spirit that after almost five hundred years still has much to say.- Luke looks at her with a confused expression.

-This thing stinks as mysticism. What does it mean that you have another into you? You are... possessed?- he pronounces this adjective with a strange, almost frightened, indeed horrified tone. Too many years of Catholic upbringing bring with them such traps, things that can hardly be understood by those who grew up in such a different culture, like the American one. This is why many people had failed to understand why the priest who was the protagonist of I confessed hadn’t said what he had been told by the real killer and preferred to carry this weight on his shoulders, rather than breaking this so-called seal of the confessional. Hitchcock was European and Catholic. But she is wandering also in her thoughts; Penelope strives to return to reality.

-In fact yes, some scholars and men of the theater speak of possession.- he opens up even more his wonderful brown eyes and for a moment Penelope is lost, contemplating them. -I imagine that you have never heard of Luigi Pirandello.- his vague expression confirms her thought. -It was a writer and man of Italian theater, at the turn of the twentieth century. Yet I'm sure that at least once you've heard someone say "There are more masks than faces, on the street" or something like that... well, it's one of his quotes.- Luke can’t help but be fascinated by the enthusiastic tone with which she explains everything inherent in the world of theater. It had already been a shock to find that long ago she had been part of a company, with the express purpose of exorcising the murder attempt she had suffered. And certainly, he hadn’t reassured when he had described in detail the plot of that show.

-And how do you know an Italian writer and playwright of the last century?- he raises an eyebrow. It is clear that he couldn’t hold back his jealousy. Anything to do with Italy makes him automatically think of Kevin, the mysterious man with whom his Penelope had spent at least four years. And as long as he doesn’t know him, he will remain a shadow and appear to him far more threatening than he really is.

-Well, one person in my company mentioned it and... you know how I am, so curious, so I did a search on the Internet at home and then I went to one of those bookstores in the suburbs, those full of dust... and I took all the American editions of his novels and plays. It's really very fascinating.- he nods, looking at her as she settles the collar of her dress. In addition to being an actress, she has the task of the seamstress, given her passion for sewing as well. Her hands move skillful and precise.

-Are you sure that Ophelia had such neckline?- she can’t help herself, but she laughs at his frown. She feels him behind her and turning in his direction. -I would have definitely preferred if you had followed the original script...- he mumbles.

-Hey, Luke, you know what?- he shakes his head. -Carl can’t come to every rehearsal, so, you know... I'll have to practice with another man.- immediately he frowns, not understanding where she wants to go. -Do you think you are willing to make this sacrifice?- she smiles mischievously, playing with the necklace that ends exactly between her breasts.

-Uh, I... yes, I think I can do it. But I'm terribly slow to learn the lines. We will have to repeat the scenes many, but many times...- he approaches the female face. Penelope chuckles, while their noses touch each other. She closes her eyes, as she kisses him, her head full of their gasping breaths that in a moment fog up the glass of the mirror, given the poor size of the improvised dressing room in which they are. She struggles to hold back as much as possible, but then she feels his hand, this time yes, very cold, palpate her breasts and just can’t contain a moan of pleasure.

Someone knocks at the door, making them jump. -Hey, you two, in there!- a deep, male voice. Even Luke recognizes him, he plays Horatio. -Did you have cuddle each other enough? In five minutes, we have to start the rehearsals.- and then steps that means he is gone. Both burst out laughing, looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds and starting over.

-Are you satisfied now? I will not be able to look at any of them anymore.- but she is not really angry as she would to seem. -In a moment the whole building will know everything.- he seems much less worried.

-Well, you can say we were just trying to dig into your unconscious, to shape a believable character.- Luke shrugs. -It seems perfectly normal, many movie actors working in this way.- she doesn’t know whether to punch him or start kissing him again.

-You... you are tremendous. And you wanted to make me believe you didn’t know anything about theater! Method hot actor or cold actor? Stanislavskij or Diderot? The eternal conflict!- but man doesn’t understand a single word. -Leave to lose.- she takes him by the hand, dragging him. -We have to go on stage.-