Melissa Explains It All: Tales From My Abnormally Normal Life (14 page)

Chapter 9

AN A FOR EFFORT

At eighteen years old, I’d left my proverbial nests—a stable and happy television family on
Clarissa
and a regal new home in the Jersey suburbs with a new stepdad and baby sister. I was now responsible for myself and legally deemed an adult, but I also felt the extra pressure to decide whether I should continue on my current show-business path, take a break, or quit the industry altogether. I could totally see myself as one of those child stars who, as an adult, becomes a lawyer or an art dealer—why not? So I did what most high school grads do when they need to buy some time while discovering what comes next. I went to college.

When I was biking through France after
Clarissa
ended, with those rich brats from Long Island, I was trying to get over my first painful breakup. But I also had an aha moment that helped nudge me toward the coed route. From time to time, the other kids and I took breaks to rest our sore crotches by doing other outdoorsy things like ride horses, ski in the Alps, and sunbathe in Cannes. In this spirit, our group went rafting one afternoon and encountered a whirlpool. Since the swirling water made the raft circle for a while instead of rush down the rapids, our leader said that if anyone wanted to challenge themselves by jumping out of the boat, scaling a rock wall, and then leaping off a cliff with a thirty-foot drop, now would be the time to do it. The rafts would wait until we climbed the wall and found our way through the trees to the rocky ledge, and then once we saw the boats begin to move downriver, we’d need to jump in the vicinity of the rafts. Here, our leaders would then safely pull us back into the boats. Of course, there was a catch to all this—once you left the raft, it couldn’t head back upstream to grab you if you chickened out; the river only flowed in one direction. I was terrified of this dare, but I went for it (I was the only girl who did, too). I had a hard time scrambling to the top, and I hesitated when I got to the ledge. But then I just cleared my head, held my nose, and jumped into the unknown. Scary, rushing waters be damned.

It was like that Alanis Morissette song, “Thank You”:
The moment I jumped off of it
/
Was the moment I touched down.

I mention this because I always wanted to go to college, although I had other options in the acting world, and going outside my showbiz comfort zone was daunting. But like when I jumped off that cliff, my instincts told me that life wouldn’t be complete without satisfying this urge. I liked the rush that came with learning new things and having fresh ideas—a feeling I remembered, and missed, from my public school days. So in the fall of 1994, I took a leap of faith and became a freshman at New York University. A lot of TV stars move on to feature films to feel the thrill of exploring new characters and psyches, and my decision to go to college wasn’t so different. I needed a new adventure after
Clarissa,
and becoming a student could be my most exhilarating role yet.

I didn’t choose my future alma mater based on much research, or college visits, or prestigious alumni. Rather, I put all of my eggs in one basket and applied only to NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts (I later transferred to their Gallatin School of Individualized Study). When I moved to New York City during my parents’ divorce, I spent a lot of time gazing out our town house window and watching the school’s purple trolley go by. I think it’s remarkable when we let the past juxtapose with the modern world—as with cable cars on a busy San Francisco street or cobblestone walks next to Manhattan’s West Side Highway—so I became obsessed with watching this old-fashioned bus shuttle students around town. It also reminded me of Mr. Rogers. “It’s a beautiful day in Greenwich Village…” always played in my head as it drove away.

But you know what my Bible study friends say: if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans. I sent in my tuition check to NYU, and just a few weeks before I was to start classes, I was offered an ABC TV movie called
Family Reunion: A Relative Nightmare.
This starred the late Norman Fell (Mr. Roper from
Three’s Company
), Alley Mills (Norma in
The Wonder Years
), and Jo Anne Worley (from
Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In
). It was also the first time my agent had contacted me, instead of Mom, about a role and announced how much I’d be paid for the part. (When I did
Clarissa,
I never asked what I made and nobody ever told me; even now, I’m not clear on the numbers, but I don’t care. I did it for fun.) So the movie seemed like a dream scenario: it was a short gig, I was being treated like an adult, and I was offered a nice chunk of money I could put toward college. I also thought the role was sexy. It called for a mysterious runaway who captures the attention of a young boy who’s about to attend his annual family reunion, and I’d been gunning to play an enigmatic outsider for a while. On the other hand, I also feared that if I took this job and postponed my first semester, I might get distracted by acting and drop the academic ball altogether.

But … I ended up taking the job. I really struggled with the decision, but ultimately it was good money and NYU wasn’t going anywhere. The movie began shooting the day after Mom’s wedding to Leslie, so I left for the airport still wearing my bubble-gum-pink bridesmaid dress. Four weeks later, I was back in New York.
Okay
, I thought.
Let’s try this college thing again
.

Because I’ve always bunked with guardians or siblings, I didn’t want to live alone on campus. So I moved into the coed dorms, which happened to be literally one block away from our old town house and made me miss my colorful bedroom. At NYU, I slept in a lofted bunk bed, with my desk and dresser squished underneath. I plastered what little wall space I had with snowboarding posters. I also had two roommates, Lara and Marianna, who’d already been roommates for a semester without me. The best part of the deal was that we shared a private bathroom, since many of the NYU dorms are converted apartment complexes or hotels.

At least dorm living lent itself to a stress-free social life. I hung out with Lara, watched the sun set over the Hudson River, dyed my hair different shades of red, and went to Knicks games with my girl Jessie, who I’d befriended during my sister Emily’s run with
Tommy.
At the time, Viacom owned Madison Square Garden and Nickelodeon, which produced
Clarissa,
so I could always score floor seats to watch John Starks shoot three-pointers and Patrick Ewing sweat all over the court. I also did bong hits with the guys in the dorm room next door, which is about as stereotypically collegiate as it gets, huh? (By this point, I was enough of a big girl to reconsider Mom’s drug advice.) When I was going to NYU was probably the only time between the ages of ten and twenty-five that I liked being around people my age. I think it helped that college kids are so busy trying to find their way that they didn’t pay much attention to how, or if, I was finding mine.

What I loved most about being a student, though, was how relaxing and orderly it felt to eat a bagel every day on my walk to class or to know there’d always be an organized activity if I got bored. I was amused by college fashion too—or the lack thereof. I’ve heard about kids at other schools wearing pajamas to class, but NYU trendsetters took their lax attitude to new levels. I could literally wear boots, slippers, or shoes made from pizza boxes on my way to a Golden Age of Eastern European Directors class and nobody would look twice. People also didn’t care that I was “Clarissa,” unless they were spreading rumors that she gave some guy a blow job in a closet. (This was never true but still comes up occasionally when I bump into NYU students on the street.) To my peers, I was just Melissa, the short blonde who acted sometimes, but mostly danced on tables and went to women’s rights rallies in D.C. I also took my sister Trisha to my first and last frat party, but it was no
Animal House.
The only thing I learned is that I like my beer to be lukewarm and flat. No, really, I do.

Though college let me curiously glimpse a whole new world, I kept getting drawn back into my old one. In January of 1995, two weeks into my first semester, I took a job in Salt Lake City, Utah, for two weeks to guest star on
Touched by an Angel
—and it was a learning experience in its own right. I’d never seen the show, so my interpretation of the character fell short of the producer’s expectations. In fact, he called me into his office to talk about it, since I wasn’t “reaching deep enough” into my character to keep up with the other dramatic actresses on set. Until now, my TV roles had been mostly comedic, and I wasn’t prepared for scenes about impending rape (from Jack Black, of all actors) or an emotionally tormenting fight with the character’s mom. I hadn’t done that kind of acting since the play
Beside Herself,
when I was twelve years old. I was so humiliated, I burst into tears when I left his office and called Mom for a little TLC. I eventually nailed the kind of earnest acting my producer needed, but I always think of this experience when I start a new project. It urges me to really do my homework.

Between frustrating takes, I became friends with a sympathetic ski bum PA named Hoot, who later introduced me to his buddy James when I came back to visit him in Park City during winter recess. James and I began dating—I was a sucker for his tall, thin frame and giant, kind eyes. Funny how on the set of a show about angels and God, I experienced a little divine intervention myself. I can’t help but wonder if the real reason life gave me the opportunity to do a guest role on that drama series was that it would lead me to my next boyfriend.

*   *   *

In September of 1994, Mom was on the playground with Brian and Emily when a fellow mother gave her the Halloween issue of
Sabrina the Teenage Witch,
published once a year by Archie Comics. She and her friend talked about how I’d be perfect to play the character in a movie or television show—the character’s age, spunk, and hair color were clearly a match—and a week later, Mom licensed the rights to the characters Sabrina, her boyfriend Harvey, Salem the talking cat, and aunts Hilda and Zelda for just one dollar. Mom then sold
Sabrina the Teenage Witch
as a TV movie to Showtime for a whole lot more. Just as I was about to begin my second semester in the fall of ’95, we hopped a plane to Vancouver instead.

Sabrina
the movie was a great experience. I had a special place in my heart for Vancouver ever since shooting
A Christmas Snow
there, and I was excited to be back for a new role. The Sabrina character was bashful, cautious, and just wanted to fit in, which I could relate to, though she developed magical powers on her sixteenth birthday, which I could’ve used in real life. The cast was friendly and easy to work with, and I quickly became close to most of them. Since Sabrina’s powers made her a track star, and I had to wear a bikini in one scene, I spent a lot of time at the gym with my first trainer ever, plus my costar Lalainia Lindbjerg, who played Sabrina’s archnemesis, Katy. I also became close to Michelle Beaudoin, who played Sabrina’s best friend, Marnie. Michelle went on to have a recurring role for a year as Jenny in the ABC
Sabrina
series, too.

Best of all was hanging out with Ryan Reynolds, who played Sabrina’s heartthrob-y crush. Nobody looked as good with wavy blond locks and a thumb ring as Ryan did. Though I was madly in love with James, my boyfriend of six months by then, Ryan and I spent plenty of time together—him showing me Vancouver or driving down to Seattle with me and Michelle for the Bumbershoot Festival. Though Ryan was totally cute and charming, I couldn’t get past the fact that he always seemed to be channeling Jim Carrey’s oddball mannerisms and voices. Even so, he sure knew how to make a girl feel special. On our last day of shooting, Ryan dropped by the set to give me a wrap gift, since he’d completed his part on the movie. He didn’t make a big show of the gesture; he just walked into my trailer, gave me a hug, handed me a box, and then walked out. But when I opened the box to find a gorgeous Bulova watch, I went weak in the knees. On the one hand, I knew that some people gave jewelry as wrap gifts, but on the other, no teenage boy had ever bought me such an expensive present before. Until then, I had suspected Ryan liked me and was flirting, but I never let my head go there. Men were always more into me when I wasn’t single, so I didn’t take him seriously.

His taste in bling, however, did turn me on.

There’s a ridiculous moment in the
Sabrina
movie where Ryan looks at me and says in a throaty, whispered hush, “I think what we need is a little less talk and a little more action.” When I opened Ryan’s gift, I couldn’t agree more with this statement. I ran out of my trailer as Ryan pulled out of the lot, jumped in front of his car’s headlights, and demanded that he get out and talk to me. How dare he hand me a gift as thoughtful as that beautiful watch and then just disappear. Not sure whether to chastise or make out with him next, I decided to plant a big, fat kiss on his mouth without saying a word more. It was very dramatic.

That night, Ryan and I fooled around in my hotel room. I remember that his lips were pretty wonderful, plus he had these big hands and shoulders that completely swallowed my petite frame. It was a terrific distraction from how strongly he smelled of hair product. We made a plan for Ryan to visit me in New York a few weeks later, even though I felt bad about cheating on James the moment I left Ryan’s arms.

The next evening on the phone, I confessed my make-out to James, who was in Utah. I made it sound like Ryan and I had just kissed a little instead of mauling each other all night. I told him I wasn’t sure what I wanted, so Ryan could still visit—I’d hoped to keep options open, in case my instincts were off. After a few sleepless nights without both men, I decided that James was the guy for me.

I didn’t clue Ryan in to any of this until he came to New York. He stayed with me at my stepdad’s tiny studio apartment on the Upper East Side, where I’d been living during my second semester at school. I told Ryan that I wanted to be faithful to James, though we could still make the most of his visit without the touchy-feely stuff. He reacted as if I’d kicked his puppy—surprised, confused, forlorn. The rest of our week was awkward, since Ryan and I wanted different things from the trip and slept on our own sides of the same bed. We didn’t even spoon. All my friends now think I’m nuts for ditching
People
’s 2010 Sexiest Man Alive, but I was in love with James and went on to spend four committed years with him. We had a warm, secure relationship that felt really mature. Around the time of Ryan’s
People
nod, my sister-in-law Sally, a stylist, met Ryan on the set of
The Change-Up
. She told him how she knew me.