A.L. (Alternative Life)
by Karen Mitani
The lights came up on the vast soundstage as Mara approached the set. A cozy living room. A kitchen glimmering with stainless steel appliances and a large center island. A dining room with a beautiful oak table. Off to the left, a child’s bedroom, unicorns and rainbows decorating the three existing walls.
Mara waited expectantly on the boundary where the reinforced concrete of the soundstage met the rich hardwood of the kitchen. A huge digital clock hung on the wall just beneath the lighting grids. Its white segmented numbers read 24:00:00.
She tried not to fidget in the silence. The motion-controlled cameras were static on their motorized rigs and robotic arms, yet she knew they were focused on her.
“Good morning, Mara,” a disembodied voice boomed.
It startled her every time. “Good morning.”
“Ready to begin?”
“Yes.”
“Alternative Life 11021. Mara Slone. Day four.”
The numbers of the giant clock began counting down. 23:59:59. 23:59:58. As Mara turned and headed toward the child’s bedroom, the cameras came to life and followed her with an electrical hum.
A mop of sandy-brown curls poked out from beneath a pink duvet on the child’s bed. Tiny lights twinkled on the wall. Mara sat on the edge of the mattress. On cue, the slumbering child opened her eyes.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Mara said.
“What are we doing today?” Rachel looked down at Mara’s prosthetic leg. Wardrobe had outfitted her in a dress that stopped above the knee. The four-year-old had seen the prosthesis earlier in the week, but whenever it was visible, Mara caught her stealing curious glances.
“You’re going to help me bake a cake for Daddy’s birthday.”
“But I didn’t get him a present.” She looked away from Mara’s leg and sat up.
“You can draw something for him with your magic markers. He’ll like that.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“Are you hungry?”
The child nodded. Taking her hand, Mara helped Rachel out of bed, and they walked to the kitchen. Cameras followed them to the illuminated breakfast bar.
As Mara lifted Rachel into one of the chairs, her eyes sought out the thick-browed woman sitting in the dark wings of the set’s perimeter. The light of the woman’s phone illuminated her face as she ignored the scene in the kitchen. Mara handed Rachel markers and some paper.
Eggs sizzled in a cast iron pan as Josh entered the kitchen. Mara’s stomach fluttered a little. He looked handsome in his charcoal suit, and he was wearing the red paisley tie she liked.
“How are my favorite girls this morning?” he said, tousling Rachel’s curls.
“Don’t look! I’m making you something but it’s a surprise.”
“For your birthday,” Mara said quickly. “Happy birthday, Josh.”
He paused for a split second. She’d caught him off guard. Like a pro, his surprise melted into a warm smile.
“Thank you, honey.”
“I’ll make dinner. Something special.”
She crossed her prosthetic behind her calf, feeling self-conscious with it exposed. She supposed it didn’t matter. They used CGI in post-production to replace it with a normal leg.
Josh kissed her cheek. Mara inhaled his earthy scent: smoke and cedarwood. His dark eyes met hers.
“I can’t wait.”
***
The clock flicked from 12:00:01 to 12:00:00 and stopped. Auxiliary lights switched on and cameras powered down. The thick-eyebrowed woman collected the child from the bedroom where she feigned sleep and they disappeared through a far door. Sam, the actor playing Josh, rose from the couch where he sat with Mara, stretched, and left the set.
The illusion dissolved around her, shattering like a dream.
***
Mara waited alone in a plush armchair in the green room as early evening sunshine beamed through the large windows. She was dressed in the jeans and pintuck top she wore to the studio that morning. Sam came in wearing cargo shorts and a linen button down. She’d requested good-looking, but he was beyond her expectations: Hollywood gorgeous.
Sitting across from her, he smiled. “Great day.”
“Sorry about springing the birthday on you like that. I know we never discussed it.”
“No, it was excellent.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the table between them. “One thing I enjoy the most about this gig is the spontaneity. The chance for the unexpected.”
Mara twisted her silver ring.
“I hope it wasn’t too much there, at the end.”
He shook his head with a laugh. “Not at all.”
This was their last confab in the green room. She enjoyed meeting with Sam as himself at the end of each day, occasionally seeing some of him in his character Josh when they were on set together. The genuine smile, the kind eyes that locked with hers and held there. Although, that had been another thing she’d requested.
“Well,” she said, “tomorrow is Day Five. My last day. I don’t have anything specific in mind. Just a nice last day.”
“Okay, you got it.”
His phone buzzed and she stood to leave. At the door, she turned back.
“When you said your ‘favorite girls’ today. That was nice. Thank you, Sam.”
Before he could respond, she hurried out.
***
“Mara, wait up!”
Mara cut through the studio parking lot. Sam jogged up, his hair flopping over his forehead.
“Sorry to chase after you.” He ran a hand through his locks to messy perfection. “Technically, I’m not supposed to talk to you outside the studio. So, if you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me to get lost.”
Mara remembered such a stipulation in the contract she signed. Something about distracting from the client’s immersion. The actors couldn’t talk to her unless she okayed it.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all. To be honest, I usually don’t have any interest in speaking to our typical clients, but you won your A.L. through that lottery Modest Means held, didn’t you?”
Mara stifled a snort at the nonprofit’s moniker. Modest Means. Just a fancy way of saying low income, needy, poor.
“Yeah, I got lucky.” She felt awkward knowing he knew about her circumstances. Maybe the studio had a point about not engaging with the actors outside of the world she’d created.
“Anyway,” he said, pulling car keys from his pocket. A yellowish-orange orb dangled from the keychain. “I just wanted to say congratulations. I hope so far, it’s been everything you wanted.”
“Thanks.”
He jiggled the keychain. “Can I give you a lift?”
“No, thank you. I have a stop to make,” she lied. She certainly didn’t want him to see where she lived.
“See you tomorrow.” He walked backwards, looking at her. “It’ll be a good day. I’ve really enjoyed your A.L., Mara. It’s been a refreshing change of pace.”
He smiled and trotted across the parking lot. She caught herself staring after him and hurried off in the opposite direction.
***
Mara heated a can of tomato soup and grilled a Kraft cheese sandwich on her small stovetop, then settled in with her dinner on the futon, which also doubled as her bed. Since losing her accounting job to AI the year before, she cleaned houses as a temp when work was available. She was thankful to still have her own little place, even though her bathroom door was a curtain and she could lean over and open the fridge from her bed. It wasn’t as if anyone visited.
Entering the lottery for the A.L. had been a cinch; anyone with an annual income of under twenty-five thousand was eligible to participate for free. Winning it was the trick. It was a cliche as old as happily ever after, but it was truly the first thing she’d ever won in her life. She was interviewed for the six o’clock news, bright lights and exuberant hosts. Strangers offered her a lot of money to buy it as A.L. immersions were a luxury mainly the rich could afford. Five days of any life you could imagine. Some people were aggressive, others desperate. She’d had to deactivate her social media accounts so they’d leave her alone.
Her phone pinged. She dropped her sandwich and opened her email. A new message read Alternative Life – Day 4. Opening it, she clicked a link.
That day’s events unfolded before her, filtered and polished, on the small screen. She walked through the beautiful house to Rachel’s bedroom on two flesh and bone legs. There were options for looking younger, blonder, thinner, curvier, but she only requested the leg be altered. As she watched her leg move through the rooms, she could almost feel it beneath her, a phantom ache. A different sort of ache as she watched the child trustingly take her hand, as Josh smiled and kissed her cheek at breakfast.
As the day continued, she and Rachel baked Josh’s birthday cake, giggling as they ended up covered in flour. In the living room, they hung colorful paper streamers and a sign that read Happy Birthday! She had come up with the idea lying in bed the night before, felt a special occasion might create opportunities.
She skipped ahead to the three of them enjoying dinner together as a family. They lowered the lights and sang Happy Birthday as Mara brought in the frosted cake aglow with candles. Josh laughed and Rachel clapped as he blew them out.
Skipping ahead again: the child in bed, she and Josh on the couch sipping wine in front of the stone fireplace. Her head on his shoulder, his fingers softly running through her hair. Her heart raced as it did then as he tilted up her chin.
It was surreal to watch them kiss. She longed for what she viewed before her: the excitement, the opportunity for love and passion, a connection with someone. Yet it was herself on the screen, it was her, undamaged, in the leading man’s embrace. It had happened; she had audiovisual documentation of it for all time. It was what she’d signed up for. The perfect family. The perfect life.
Her sandwich congealed beside her as the day faded to black.
***
Mara ducked into a coffee shop on her way to the studio. She couldn’t justify a seven-dollar beverage, but the heat was already sweltering at 7 AM, and they’d give her water if she bought the ten-cent cup.
“Mara.” A familiar voice behind her.
She turned to find Sam, sweaty in a cycling top and shorts. His upper lip glistened as he smiled.
“Hi,” she blurted, caught off guard.
“Ready for your last day?” He ordered a large, iced coffee.
“Yeah,” she said, feeling foolish and tongue-tied.
She lingered awkwardly as he waited for his drink. Obviously, he’d rode his bike. What would she do, double on the handlebars?
“I’ll see you there,” she said.
“Hold up, we can walk together.”
She walked alongside him as he pushed his bike, conscious of her slight limp as they made their way down the sidewalk.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, her cup sweating in the heat.
“Sure.”
“What did you mean yesterday when you said your ‘typical clients?’ Am I not typical?”
He laughed. “No, you are not. A.L. is for living out fantasies, right? Well, most clients are already stupid rich and can pretty much have anything money can buy. So, they use A.L. to do the things it can’t. Some pretty unsavory stuff most of the time.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not allowed to discuss specifics of other A.L.s, sorry. Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”
That meant he couldn’t tell anyone about their make out session on the couch the day before. And only she got a copy of the video. Not that he’d want to brag to anyone about scoring with a broke girl with one leg.
“I guess mine is kind of boring.”
“No, it’s great. Honestly. It’s nice to be involved in something meaningful for a change.”
They stopped at a light, the lines on the pavement wavering in the heat. Sam took a swig of his coffee, his damp shirt clinging to his chest. Mara felt a bead of sweat roll down her back.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” he said as they crossed the street. “It’s kind of personal.”
She tensed. When they were on set, she’d made things up. “A.L. Mara” had been a track star in college. She was happily married, a devoted mother, lived in a beautiful house. Money was no issue. She had no good answers to anything he could ask about her real life.
“Sure,” she said, not feeling sure.
“What happened with your leg?”
She felt moderately relieved. She had a decent answer for that one.
“I was born with a congenital deficiency. The best choice was to amputate. It all happened before I can remember.”
They reached the studio. Sam pulled his keys out of a small sling bag around his waist and locked his bike. The orange bobble keychain caught the light.
“What’s that?”
Sam laughed, embarrassed. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I don’t know.”
“A couple years ago, I got a small part in a Jurassic Park movie, Jurassic Earth: Savage Horizon.”
Mara nodded as if she was familiar with it, but all those movies blended together.
“I thought it was my big break. I had two lines. But they ended up cutting my scene before we even filmed it. I was pissed, so I stole this from the prop room.”
He handed her the keychain. A golden orb of amber with a spindly mosquito trapped within.
“My grand act of defiance,” he chuckled. “I keep it to remind myself there’ll be other big breaks.”
Mara peered at the insect imprisoned in the citrine glass. She didn’t laugh. For some there were no big breaks, and the ones you did get weren’t real.
“Look,” Sam said, “it’s none of my business, but I’ve watched some of the final footage of your A.L. I don’t think you need to have them alter your leg. I think you’re fine the way you are.”
The sun slipped behind a cloud, muting the amber.
“You’re right,” Mara said, tossing the keychain at him, “it’s none of your business.”
She hurried toward the building entrance.
“Mara, wait!” Sam called.
She didn’t look back.
***
11:42:19. 11:42:18.
Mara dipped bread into an egg mixture then transferred it dripping into a hot skillet. At the breakfast bar, Rachel played with a stuffed elephant. As the French toast she had promised cooked, Mara watched the child, her child for one more day. But her real name was Harlow, not Rachel, and her real mother was monitoring from the wings twenty feet away.
Mara’s mother’s name had been Rachel. Josh had been an old boyfriend, the one who was sweet to her, who crawled on his hands and knees around the carnival midway searching for beads when her favorite necklace broke. She could have chosen a different name for herself, but she wanted to hear her name on her “husband’s” lips, not someone else’s.
As Mara poured syrup on Rachel’s toast, Josh walked in. Instead of his usual business suit, he wore jeans and a dark T-shirt.
“Good morning,” he said. “I thought I’d stay home from work today, if it’s okay with Mommy.”
“It’s okay with me,” Rachel said, her mouth full.
“You look nice,” he said to Mara.
Wardrobe had put her in pants that morning, but at the last minute, she switched to a knee-length skirt. She wasn’t sure if it had been to spite Josh or herself.
“What will we do?” she asked.
She’d won the Signature A.L., in other words, the cheapest: one set, indoor only.
Josh shrugged. “We can just spend the day together.”
Eggy bread sizzled in the pan behind her.
“Is that what you think I want?”
Josh held a forced smile. Rachel looked at Mara, noticing a tone she didn’t recognize. The lines were blurring. That question was for Sam, not Josh. Cameras hovered around them, focused on their perfectly lit faces.
Josh frowned suddenly.
“The stove!”
Smoke rose from the blackened bread. Rushing to pull the pan off the element, Mara touched the hot metal, yelping. Josh raced over and turned on the cold faucet. She plunged her fingers under the running water. The crew weren’t permitted to interfere unless the situation was life or death, so the cameras zoomed in on Mara’s injury as Harlow’s mother collected the child and ushered her off set.
“I’ll get the first aid kit from the bathroom,” Josh said, leaving her alone. There was no first aid kit, no bathroom. It would take him a while to fetch a real one from the production office.
Mara left the water running and walked off the set, leaving her perfect life behind.
***
The next morning, an email from the studio.
Sam Tuffin requests to contact you. His phone number and email address were attached.
She supposed they needed her permission in writing.
***
Spontaneous enough for you?
The following week, she watched the sunset from the tar-veined roof of her building. Not exactly the penthouse, but close enough.
Her phone buzzed with a reply. Sam.
Hey! I’m so glad to hear from you.
She took a deep breath to tamp down a rush of involuntary pleasure.
I’m an ass and was way out of line. I have no idea what’s best for you and your life and I’m really really sorry I was arrogant enough to suggest I did.
She waited before responding, watching the shadows stretch.
You’re forgiven.
Thank you.
She absolved him; he could go now, free from guilt. Chase his next big break. She had her own to wait for.
I wanted to tell you it was very nice to be a part of your alternative life, Mara.
The sun receded, bathing the city in amber light.
It was nice to be a part of your real one, Sam.
You still are. I hope.
The amber dissolved to cobalt blue. A star flickered, then another.