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I read the script, then I read the book. Then I cried. It's the sort of book I want to keep with me forever, while at the same time tossing it hard across the room so it hits the wall and breaks, the way it broke something in me. I begged Joe to let me be Cecilia, and he said no. Briony, he said. I was very angry with him. I loved Cecilia, her cool, snobby way, her unlikely passion and devotion to something she can't have. But he made a good case and next time we spoke I said I would play Briony. I said play the second time, rather than be. Joe shook his head, no. I had made a brilliant case, too. I was to be Cecilia, the woman rather than the girl, for the very first time.
I can't see the full story, what Ian intended it to be. I admire Romola very much for doing so, I could never capture Briony the way she has. I don't care about her, I only see Cecilia and Robbie. I understand her, her crime wasn't wicked. It wasn't her fault all things happened on the same night. I think because I feel that way, I could never do the character justice, and Romola has.
Cecilia wears a green dress that night. It holds great significance, it's the only garment she has that doesn't make her feel like a child, and it's new. Too fancy for a casual dinner party, she wears it regardless. I don't know how Ian knew a dress could do this. It wasn't until I reach that part of the book I started paying attention, and fell in love with Cecilia. Of course Robbie loves her, she's delightfully imperfect, this vision of perfection.
I said, "By the time we made love, I was already in love," and then I cringed. It sounds so phony. It's like that sometimes, though. Define fucking, define making love and then it gets jumbled and you have no idea what's going on until well after the fact. Fucking turned to love and love turned to indifference and you just can't tell what the outcome will be, you can't. In the library they made a decision. They just didn't know it would be put to the test so quickly, they thought they had time to confirm their decision. And they were young and innocent enough to be optimistic.
They wear out their memories of that night. Ever done that? Played something wonderful over and over in your mind until it loses its colour, taste, everything. Words that seemed so strong the first few hundred times fade and mean nothing, eventually. Robbie memorized her letters but the only line that mattered was the one she always ended with, "I'll wait for you. Come back." Then that faded, too. He could only stand idle by and watch it happen, helpless in the face of his own emotions. The letters kept coming but her smell was gone, her face. I can never remember the faces of those closest to me, they're always blurry like the air above, fueling the fire. Being in love is a lonely occupation, and Cecilia knew only that. And I wanted to be Cecilia.
I have a nasty habit of skimming the second to last page of any book I'm reading, especially if it's boring. I figure that way I won't cheat myself cos it's not the very last. No such luck this time. The second to last page explains it all.