TABLE READINGS
"Table Reading at Nate's"
Written by
Heather Rose Dominic
Phil placed a layer of his signature sauce at the bottom of a large baking dish, added noodles and chopped spinach, some Ricotta and more sauce and to complete the first layer of his famous lasagna, a mixture of Mozzarella and Gruyère.
"What inning?” Phil shouted to Nate who was arranging his living room chairs into an abbreviated semi-circle.
"Top of the third,” Nate shouted back, over Rizzuto announcing the next Yankee up to bat. He lifted one of the windows an inch to let in some of the cold winter air and picked up the screenplays that were stacked on an arm of the sofa.
"If people don’t show, we’ll just double up on characters,” said Al as he handed Phil a wedge of cheese, then opened the oven to bring out the first lasagna.
"Right, we can even triple up, or if no one shows, you and I can just read the whole script out loud,” Phil said as he quickly grated Parmesan over the top of the second lasagna.
"I think you’re all set,” said Nate from the doorway of the kitchen. “Have a look.”
Al followed Nate back into the perfectly arranged space to see scripts and highlighter pens on the sofa and chairs and an end table set with cups and spoons for eight.
"We’re ready,” Al said confidently, observing the vibe of the room while still wearing one of Nate’s bright yellow oven mitts.
The doorbell continued to ring as more friends arrived to a warmly lit apartment infused with the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and baking lasagna. Nate was giving a tour of the novels and plays that lined one of his living room walls while two actors who had been in his recent production up in Woodstock, were reminiscing in front of its framed poster. Al and Phil had inadvertently starred in that show one night and had signed the poster at Nate’s request. Another actor was underfoot in Nate’s tiny kitchen offering greatly unwanted baking advice to Phil.
Once seated, each friend was assigned a role and everybody smiled at the thought of playing these characters they all loved from a TV show everyone admired. Al thanked Nate for the use of his home and the actors for their time and mentioned again that the reading was to hear their revised spec for the television series Taxi, titled, “Alex at Sea.”
"New and improved, now with only one location,” added Phil, who got laughs from the room at the commercial like reading of his impromptu joke. Phil continued that he and Al had just got an agent based on their script for The Jeffersons, an episode that had aired back in April. Their friends cheered and Al and Phil stood up to take an exaggerated bow. The actors listened intently as Phil reiterated what their agent had advised; re-writing their strongest spec, without locations, so she could actually try and sell it. This script they felt was their best but “Alex at Sea” was about Alex learning to sail, and the Hudson, where his dream is realized, was a location they couldn’t write out. Yet Al and Phil loved their script and with hope in his voice, Al read the show’s title and they all turned to page one.
After the reading, there was lively discussion as everyone sat with filled plates on their laps and notated scripts, opened within reach. The group went back over the script, line by line, laughing again at some of the funniest bits and imagining how the last scene on the Hudson could be filmed. Phil made note of some of their friends’ best ideas and found agreement, each time, when looking over at Al. When the final joke was read again, it was followed by the same awkward silence that had occurred after the initial read through. Al and Phil had noticed the uncomfortable silence the first time around and now asked their friends what they didn’t like about the ending. One actor replied that he didn’t find the last joke especially funny and everyone quickly agreed. Another actor said the joke evoked a tone of sadness she didn’t like and wished that Alex could have been happier at the end of the show. Everyone agreed with that point as well.
Al had added the new joke only last night when he and Phil were taking a final look at their script. Phil hadn’t really understood the joke but agreed with Al that Alex wouldn’t be entirely happy at the end of their story. Though Alex had fulfilled his dream of sailing his friends along the Hudson, he had missed his sailing certification test that same day and, in the end, knew that he could probably never afford a boat of his own.
The men were walking down Amsterdam from Nate’s brownstone to Al’s apartment on Seventy-eighth and as they walked, they debated taking the wistful joke out of their script. Al tried delivering it a variety of funny ways but thought that if he couldn’t make Phil laugh by the time they got to his stoop, he would give up on the joke.
“Take it out,” said Al, from the sidewalk in front of his building. “It worked up there, maybe you need to be up there to get it,” he joked, looking towards his window.
"I was up there, I still didn’t get it,” Phil laughed.
"Now you laugh,” said Al waving his friend away with a smile. Phil watched Al enter his building, then turned for home where he would type up the revised spec before mailing it to Los Angeles the next morning.
In the weeks after the reading and while they waited to hear back from their agent, Phil was on the road, preventing him and Al from writing together on the weekends. Phil was assisting Nate during the out-of-town tryouts for Nate’s new show and wasn’t expected back until mid-January. Al was picking up extra shifts at the garage and had taught himself how to knit, clearly ignoring the writer’s block that had claimed most of his days since the table reading. Half-written jokes resided in notebooks that Al hardly opened and his inability to write seemed to bring on a procession of equally unpleasant experiences.
Al was leaning back on his bed, half-watching a morning game show, with a bag of frozen peas over his left foot. The phone rang and he deliberated answering it before carefully getting up and knocking over a glass of water in the process.
"I have news,” said Phil from the other end of the phone.
"Phil, I just got home. I had to cover Artie’s shift, I’m getting a cold and I think I just broke a toe. Can we talk later?”
"Which toe?
"Does it matter?
"No, I guess not...which foot?”
"Phil!” Al yelled into the phone.
"Well, throw me the keys or come down.”
"You’re in New York?” asked Al.
"Yes.”
"You’ve been in New York the whole time we’ve been talking?”
"Yes, I’m in New York, I’m downstairs. Your buzzer isn’t working!” Phil shouted over an illuminated parade of passing snow plow trucks.
Al looked out the window, and through the falling snow, saw Phil standing at the corner payphone, waving.
Phil appeared at the top of the stairs just as Al was opening his apartment door.
"That was fast,” Al marveled at the speed with which Phil had ascended the fifth-floor walk-up.
"She loved the script,” Phil said, only slightly out of breath.
"That’s good,” said Al, who was tired but grateful for their agent’s review. “Did she hear anything yet?”
"Not from TAXI but another show called.”
"What other show?”
"It hasn’t aired yet but they liked your joke.”
The two friends stood in the doorway as Al looked out the landing window and smiled.
"You left it in?” Al asked.
"They want to meet us on Monday.”
"Out there?”
"10 a.m.”
"Cup of coffee?”
"Yeah,” said Phil and closed the apartment door behind him.
