The leaves on the ground were not yet black from being tread upon. The early days of fall settled on the city center in Prague easily, like a soft exhale leaving the body.
A thin line of manicured trees lined the bystander walkway opposite the canal. Delicate leaves still clung onto the craggy branches despite their curled and brown edges.
The salient landscape stood in stark juxtaposition with the uptick in your heart rate and the rapid clack of heels against the pavement. If you were not in such a hurry, you might have been able to appreciate the city you’d yearned to see your entire life.
A manicured nail taps against the glass screen of your phone impatiently as you attempt to decipher the directions to the location of your shoot. The hasty text had been sent in a manner that felt almost thoughtless, the contact in Prague redirecting you to a location that allegedly felt “more authentic” for the promotional shoot.
The air was colored with the heavy sigh that escaped your lips as you zoomed in on the map on your phone. It was hardly surprising that there would be an intricate web of individuals involved in the managerial and artistic process for the film. But today, their mismanagement happened to come at your expense.
Shit. There was no way you would make it there on time now.
In all honesty, expecting you to navigate the foreign city alone as an American- for work or not within only a few hours of your arrival was madness.
Sure, your name was only just being added as a co-star beside bigger names, but both were printed in the same black serifed font on your trailers. You wondered with a tinge of irritation if your male co-star would have been expected to navigate the city alone as well or if he’d been pampered endlessly, waited on hand and foot like his behavior on set seemed to suggest.
Gender gaps in the film industry were no secret. You had had some inkling of how you might be treated prior to entering your first movie contract. But now you weren’t sure that the preconceptions you had held even measured up to the pernicious truth.
Male directors had a particularly potent manner of exercising their power on set and in drawing up contracts. Far too many fledgling actresses buoyed by hope became infected by the guise of an innocuous smile and the promise of a curated script.
Like so many others, this life had been something you had striven for. You had spent hours pouring over scripts, slipping into characters and their lived experiences and then shedding them like a mask only to put on a new one.
You had found yourself in scripts long ago and by now the process came as naturally as breathing. You would begin with the emotional psyche of a character and then your demeanor would consequently reflect it.
The biggest hurdle to date was that you desired agency over your work. You wanted dignity in your workplace and respect. At least enough to not be given half assed directions to a shoot that your entire career depended on. You wanted-
Not bothering to look up from the maze of intersecting streets on your phone, you inadvertently barreled into a figure exiting a sidestreet with a surprised yelp.
By some miracle both of you manage to keep your feet beneath you and your phone doesn’t go flying onto the pavement. But as you take a breath you’re left with a creeping sense of humiliation. An apology scrambles to the tip of your tongue as the person you inadvertently ran into turns their body to face you.
It’s a woman. She is about your height and somehow manages to look down her elegant nose at you from where she stands.
The initial shock of being run into fades and her expression settling into bemusement rather than the sharp judgement that she’d initially regarded you with.
Her lip tugs upward as she addresses you in english. “In a hurry, honey?”
A semblance of an apology tumbles off your lips in which you attempt to detail how lost you’d gotten in the city, that you're a foreigner, the importance of the shoot for your career. As you carry on you feel that your explanation is somehow falling on deaf ears as her smile widens. She’s enjoying how flustered you are and you stop yourself mid sentence, realizing it's pointless to keep blabbering on.
A chuckle follows your silence, the woman is clearly pleased that you’ve caught on. “I’m Stella.”
The syllables tumble off her lips in a lilting manner, an accent you can’t quite place coloring each syllable.
Stella grins as you introduce yourself.
“Ah, that’s pretty. You mentioned that you’re an actress, yes?”
“That’s right.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Been in anything I’ve seen?”
How should you know what she’s seen? “Maybe.” You admit after a moment of consideration.
Stella’s mouth turns up again in that curious manner. “Considering you’ve just run into me and could have sustained serious bodily harm to yourself and consequently your career. I feel bound to make it up to you. Let me take you to your shoot.”
Remotely you register that you blink in surprise and an astonished what leaves your lips. Stella chuckles, the sound smooth and she nods to a parked car across the street.
“I have a driver. I could always drive you myself but I prefer to give the person I’m interested in my full attention.”
You spare a glance between the woman before you and the car and before you can answer verbally, you’ve already taken a step in the direction of the vehicle.
“Is that a yes?” Stella’s voice cuts through your deliberation. “I’m quite familiar with the city and can ensure you arrive on time.”
“Yes,” you answer, throwing her a backwards glance.
The driver pulls out of the parking spot as soon as the woman recites the address you show her on your phone.
He appears indifferent to your presence in the car, as if he has driven around many people before which makes you feel more at ease and less reckless in your decision making. After all, you did not know this woman. What if your decision was the result of a stress induced stroke?
No, that just sounded stupid and paranoid.
The driver fumbles with the volume dial for the radio as you and the woman buckle in, the smooth notes of a saxophone melody- some jazz musician you hadn’t heard before settle into the background. It’s an elegant sound that matches the upscale upholstery of the car you’re strapped into.
Stella types a quick message on her phone and then turns to face you. Now that you’re not stammering for a response your eyes sweep over the woman opposite you. Blonde hair dusts her shoulders in a polished manner. Her eye contact is direct, almost commanding attention and intimidating but you don’t avert your eyes from her blue and gray speckled gaze.
“Tell me about this shoot.” Stella inquires politely, folding her hands in her lap and turning to face you.
“It’s a promotion for the film I’m in.” You explain, adjusting your posture. “I’m playing Amphitrite.”
“The goddess of the sea,” she nods in recognition, each word passing her lips thoughtfully. “She was the captor of the hearts of both men and women.”
“You know your mythology.”
Her riposte is a satisfied smirk. “I’ve been called a well read woman before. I’m always looking for an opportunity to impress a beautiful woman. However I’m almost certain it takes more than being well-read in mythology to impress a prolific actress like you.”
Her words catch you somewhat off guard. “So you have seen my films?”
Her grin sharpens. “Of course I have, honey.”
A beat of satisfied silence passes and then she drums her nails against the window ledge. “Tell me, why is it that you’ve been left without proper directions in a foreign country for a shoot that’s vital to the future of your career?”.
“It’s complicated.” You answer, though the automatic answer sounds hollow even to your ears.
A brow raises as she leans closer. “That so? Enlighten me.”
Where could you even begin? You worry your lip between your teeth momentarily and twist one of your favorite rings- the one you got in Hawaii on a trip before embarking on your acting journey- while contemplating.
“It’s a male dominated industry.”
Your words echo the sentiment of many women. The truth tasted bitter on your tongue as it was something you had been reticent about for far too long; a fact you’d never vocally expressed for fear of judgment or reprimand.
You twist the ring on your finger again, hesitant to meet Stella’s gaze. You can tell she’s somewhat older and hope that that doesn’t drive a wedge between your experiences. Yet, perhaps sensing this, Stella waits for you to look at her again.
Your eyes flick up and meet hers, seeing only understanding in her expression. “So it’s incompetence, this situation you’re in.” She concludes. “How original for men.”
The jazz melody ended and transitioned smoothly into a familiar piano piece that leaves you racking your memory for where to place it.
“I work in a male dominated industry too,” Stella explains not unkindly. “Keep in mind that the media thrives on diving women into neat categories in order to maintain a sense of power over them. Some of those categories defame the reputations of women, others exalt a woman’s ability to reduce herself to obedience.
“Never alter yourself to suit the cursory desire of a man. Male desire is a fleeting thing. It may wear the face of a virgin until he finds himself hungry for a whore. Other times men seek vampires and succubi to satisfy their lust. It is an incessant, endless pit that countless women step into without ever realizing it. You might ask, how can I avoid it?”
Blue eyes fix on yours, flicking over your face indulgently. “You remain resolute. You listen to that voice inside to dictate what you choose to present as. If you want to beat them at their own game, fine. You’re an actress, use your skills to become what the industry desires and play the role required of you. Yet, with that talent, you can also slip into that inner voice of yours, and negotiate with them, command respect. You have every ability to take control of your future and show the world and all of the women looking up to you what it is to be female unapologetically. You have this ability because you exist.”
Remotely you register the car passing over a railroad track. Your hand tenses against the seat resisting the urge to hold onto something in case you become jostled around. If you were in your car or if your older sister were driving you might have moved several inches in any given direction. However, you remain still, the quality of the car proving itself.
The air in the car has become electric, incensed by Stella giving words to the feelings which have always lived inside of you. Before you can even open your mouth to speak, Stella chuckles.
“Ah, but why am I telling you all this when an intelligent woman like yourself knows it already?”
“That was… Eloquent.” You admit. “Are you a poet?”
Her head tipped back in amused laughter. “No, honey, I’m not a poet.”
“If not a poet then you are very…” you searched for the word, but all of them seemed to fall short.“Mysterious.” You settled, knowing it was hardly ostentatious but also not wanting to overly flatter the woman too soon.
Stella’s eyes melted into something more playful as she caught onto your game as the car drew to a stop.
“We’ve arrived, Ms. Gibson,” the driver announced over the murmur of music. The piano notes swelled almost with prophecy as you both exited the car into the wan autumn afternoon.
It was easy, you realized as soon as you met with the agent on set, to let loose the words that had been harbored within you. You did not want to consider meeting Stella fate because that would be utter folly. What you could admit, however, was that your agent was incompetent and that his mishaps had been holding your career back.
Instead, it was like she had said to you; everything that she had put into words were truths that had already lived inside you. And how could it be wrong for you to demand respect and dignity in your workplace when you sacrificed so much time to it?
“I am perfectly capable of understanding the artistic need to be flexible to new and developing ideas. But when they come at the cost of your own actors, when we are subject to your whims and scheduling, therein lies the problem.”
Your voice was level as you addressed your agent, who had been indolently scrolling on his phone. His finger was still hovering over the screen in mild shock as you continued. He clearly had anticipated you falling in line obediently, to see the entire shoot as a privilege and not something that you would assert your own value over.
“My contract does not state that I’m to follow your half-assed directions like a dog and bend to your will as you see fit. Next time you consider giving me an impossible task at the very last moment, you should be aware that it will be the last conversation that you and I have. I can easily find a new agent. It was sentiment alone that kept you on as mine.”
His mouth gaped and you stepped away before he could even string together a pathetic excuse for an apology.
Stella, who had asked if she could be your companion for the day lingered on the fringes of the room. You exchanged a soft smile before you were escorted away by your hair and makeup team to prepare for the shoot.
As soon as you round the corner you catch fragments of a conversation that between Stella and one of the other makeup artists.
“She is impressive,” Stella observed as if she were stating the weather.
The makeup artist regards her curiously. “Yes, she always has been But, pardon my question ma’am but why-”
“Why am I here? She requested me,” Stella answered. “So I’ll be staying.”
You did not have to see the interaction to know that the makeup artist put together Stella’s implication. The hasty retreat and sumon for you to hurry along to get ready alerted you to that.
The shoot director had an erratic sort of barely contained energy and he bounced from one foot to another animatedly as he gave directions to every member on set. You had only worked with him a few times prior but his anomalous conduct had become somewhat predictable to you. His name evaded your memory but you thought you remembered it as being something Mulder.
You felt yourself slipping into the character of Amphitrite, spine straightening and your chin lifting with inherited audacity. She was a goddess commanding respect, a beloved deity. The silver harpoon which was intended to end her life rested in your hands, a tool created for her destruction reclaimed as an act of both feminine power and defiance.
“That’s beautiful.” The shoot director praised as he leapt about to snap photos. Really for someone his age he appeared almost cartoonishly spry.
“Remember, you’re a sea goddess. You live amongst the sea folk but you stand apart from them. You’re something ethereal and otherworldly. Something… Alien.” The possible man named Mulder’s usual flat affect expression shifted. It was colored in something far more beguiled by the idea of the creature that you are portraying. Perhaps he studied unusual creatures in his spare time. You would not put it past him to have such a hobby.
As you reposition yourself, your eyes meet Stella’s from where she’s watching you indulgently from the wall she’s leaned up against. Her long arms are folded over her chest and she looks rather captivated by the character that you’re embodying. It’s the same way that she looked at you in the car.
A burning blooms on your skin as you feel that heady gaze track you.
It’s only then that you remember the title of the piano concerto that had been played on your drive to the shoot: Chevaliers de Sangreal.
It was a piece composed for one of your favorite films, the DaVinci Code, when the protagonist at last reaches the long awaited conclusion, though impossible, following it to his fate. You had listened to that soundtrack countless nights, it had been your near constant companion all through high school and college.
You still didn’t want to think of the encounter you’d had with Stella as something as foolish as fate, but when your eyes met again, there really didn’t seem to be a better word for it.