Writers 
CHAPTER FOUR
I barely slept.
Not because I was nervous about the meeting. At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
Every time I closed my eyes, Daniel's last words came back to me.
It's about why I chose you.
There were probably a hundred ordinary explanations for that sentence. Maybe he'd seen one of my previous performances. Maybe someone had recommended me. Maybe he simply wanted to explain something about the character.
Still, my mind refused to settle for any of them.
By eight the next morning, I was already dressed and sitting at the dining table, staring at a cup of tea that had gone cold.
My mother walked past me, glanced at the cup, then glanced at me.
“You're not drinking that?”
I looked down.
“I forgot it was there.”
She smiled. “You're thinking too much again.”
“I'm not.”
“You've been stirring the same tea for five minutes.”
I looked at the spoon still in my hand.
Fair enough.
I finally left the house a little after nine. The journey gave me enough time to convince myself that I was being ridiculous.
This was work.
A role.
A meeting.
Nothing more.
By the time I arrived, I'd almost managed to believe myself.
Almost.
The building was quieter than I expected. A few people moved around the reception area, carrying folders and speaking into phones. I gave my name at the desk and was told to wait.
I sat down.
Then stood up.
Then sat down again.
Miriam arrived a few minutes later and dropped into the chair beside me.
“You look like you're waiting for exam results.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled. “You're welcome.”
Before I could answer, a man stepped out of the hallway.
“Dara?”
I stood.
“Yes.”
“Daniel is ready for you.”
I looked at Miriam.
She gave me a small nod.
I followed him down the hallway, trying not to think about the fact that I still had no idea what Daniel wanted to tell me.
His office door was open.
Daniel looked up when I walked in.
“Dara. Come in.”
I stepped inside.
He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.
“Have a seat.”
I sat down.
For a moment, he simply looked at me, and I wondered if I'd made a mistake by coming.
Then he picked up the script sitting on his desk.
“You've read it?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
I hesitated.
“Enough.”
He smiled slightly.
“Good.”
He turned a few pages before looking back at me.
“I want to tell you something about Norah.”
I waited.
“When I first saw your previous performance, I wasn't thinking about this role.”
That caught me off guard.
Daniel leaned back in his chair.
“I was watching the scene, and there was something you did after your character finished speaking. It lasted less than a second.”
I frowned.
“What did I do?”
“You looked like you wanted to say something else.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“Most actors know when the camera is watching them. You forgot about it.”
I looked down at the script.
“And that's why you chose me?”
“Partly.”
There was something about the way he said it that made me look up again.
“There's another reason.”
He closed the script.
“Your character isn't supposed to be easy to understand.”
I listened.
“She keeps things to herself. She doesn't always say what she's feeling. Sometimes the audience has to notice what she isn't saying.”
He paused.
“I think you understand that kind of person.”
I didn't know what to say to that.
Daniel pushed the script slightly toward me.
“That's why I wanted to speak to you before everything starts.”
I looked at the pages.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing yet.”
He smiled.
“Just don't try too hard to become Norah.”
I nodded slowly.
For the first time since he'd called me the night before, I understood.
He hadn't chosen me because I was the loudest person in the room.
He'd chosen me because, somehow, I'd made him notice what I wasn't saying.
And suddenly, the role felt much bigger than a few pages of dialogue.
