As Alex and Jenna began the scene again, Elena heard someone jostling the seats in her row. She turned to find Ms. B scooting sideways along the row of seats. She settled into one of the squeaky seats beside Elena and smiled.
“How are rehearsals going?” she whispered to Elena, her eyes trained on the action unfolding onstage.
“Oh, they’re good. We’re just working out a few kinks.”
“Mmm,” Ms. B nodded, and watched in silence for a while.
“What are you doing here on a Saturday?” Elena asked.
“Oh, just catching up on some grading.”
“You’re checking up on us, aren’t you? Making sure our play doesn’t suck.”
“It’s possible.” Ms. B laughed one of her big booming laughs, then clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from distracting the actors.
Elena made several notes of wrinkles in the stage direction that still needed to be ironed out.
“Okay, you guys, maybe we should take a break. Great job.” Elena never realized putting on a play would require her to be writer, architect, choreographer, coach, and cheer-leader. It was a big job, but she felt as if it suited her.
“We’re going to run up to the store to get something to eat,” Alex called from the stage.
“All right. Bring me back something, will you?” Elena hollered. Alita ran to join Jenna and Alex as they left.
“I have to say I’m a little surprised you didn’t want the lead in your own play,” Ms. B said.
“You’re surprised?” Elena had figured Ms. B of all people would realize how shy she was. She never spoke up in class unless Ms. B called on her.
“Well, you know the material better than anyone.”
“Ms. B, I’m really not outgoing at all. Jenna will do a much better job than I could. I’m just not one of those people who likes a lot of attention.”
Ms. B held Elena’s gaze and nodded slowly. She had a way of looking at kids to let them know she was really listening to what they said, even if she was about to try to change their minds.
“You know, Elena,” she said after a long pause. “Acting is about a lot more than just standing up in front of people and saying, ‘Look at me.’”
“I know.”
“It’s about inhabiting a character’s psyche, being someone other than yourself.” Ms. B was sitting forward in her seat, making big gestures that clinked her sliver bracelets together. “It’s really the ultimate imaginative exercise. You have to become that other person. I just think someone like you, someone who is so creative and imaginative in her writing, might see acting as an extension of that creativity. Some of the best actors are introverts. I know it seems counterintuitive, but it’s true.”
“I guess it’s just not my thing.”
“Okay,” Ms. B scooted back in her chair, looking a little deflated. “If you feel it’s not for you, understand.”
One thing Elena was learning on this adventure in Spain was how to separate her dreams for herself from what other people wanted for her. She hated to let Ms. B down, but acting wasn’t what she wanted for herself.
Ms. B looked as if she was about to say something else when Alex, Jenna, and Alita opened the door, letting a jarringly bright gash of sunlight into the darkened theater.
“We’re back,” Jenna called. “We got cheese, bread, and this fancy sausage from Pamplona.”
“Yeah, we decided to have a picnic,” Alita trilled.
Ms. B shifted in her seat and started to rise. “Well, I’ll leave you to your picnic.” Elena said good-bye and watched her walk out the door. Alita and Jenna were up on the stage spreading newspapers out to serve as a picnic blanket and unpacking the food. Elena headed toward the stage but was intercepted in the aisle by Alex. He tugged on her arm.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” he whispered.
“Sure.”
“Outside.”
“Okay.” Elena nodded, though she couldn’t understand why Alex was being so secretive.
“We’ll be right back, you guys. Elena and I just have to run through some stage directions. Boring stuff,” Alex called as he led Elena out the door.
“Are you sure she can do this?” he asked as soon as the door had shut behind them.
“Who? Jenna?” She was shocked he would even ask. “Of course she can do this.”
“I don’t know. She was pretty rattled all day.”
“It’s just because we’re getting closer to the performance,” Elena defended.
“Look, obviously I want her to stay in the play. I get to kiss her at the end-it would take a lot for me to give that up.” He smiled for just a second, and then his face collapsed into seriousness again. “It’s just that she seemed pretty conscious of who was watching her, and there were hardly any people in the theater. I’m nervous she might croak in front of a real audience.”
“Relax. She’s just getting the hang of it. It’s only the rehearsal-it’s just a little bit of nerves. She’ll be fine.” Elena couldn’t believe she was the one telling Alex to relax.
“I hope so. She’s your best friend here-I’m sure you’d know if she couldn’t handle the pressure.”
“Exactly. Let’s get back inside before all the food’s gone.” They went back into the theater and joined the others onstage. Elena noticed that Alex slid right back into easy conversation with the group, but the wrinkle between his eyes betrayed a lingering anxiety.
Several days later, after deliberating with herself for hours, Elena finally gathered her courage and walked out into the main room of the apartment.
“I’m going to meet with Alex to work out some last-minute script changes,” Elena called to the Cruzes as she headed out the door. Her little white lie made sense, since the final performance was now only two days away, but actually she wasn’t meeting Alex until the following day. She was headed over to the garden outside the Maria Cristina.
Once she got there, she perched on a bench in the far corner of a section of grass. From her spot in the garden she could make out the entrance to the hotel without being seen. If she squinted, she could see Miguel’s figure dashing in and out of the door, opening taxi and limousine doors, and giving every customer a little bow or a handshake.
She sat on the bench for twenty minutes. She didn’t know what she was waiting for. She knew that the longer she sat there, the more nervous she would get.
This was something she had to do. Elena was tired of living in her fantasies, she wanted something real. Even if it was a very real rejection, she owed it to her great-aunt Elena, to Alex, and to Jenna, and most of all herself to give it a try.
After a half hour at her post, Elena was biting her nails so short she was afraid her fingers might start to bleed. She decided to walk out toward the river, hoping the sight of water might calm her nerves. She made her way toward the Urumea River and walked along the back side of the hotel. Elena stopped for a moment, and glanced up. She searched for the balcony she’d stood on months ago with Miguel. It was the first time she had been close enough to smell his cologne, and the first time she’d been able to talk to him without stammering. She closed her eyes just for a moment and she could see it all perfectly. Miguel’s face was etched on her brain.
“Elena?” She could see his face before she even opened her eyes. “What are you doing?” Miguel asked.
Okay, she could think of a reason why she was standing there with her eyes closed. It wasn’t that weird. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Smooth, Elena, very smooth.
“Well, I was just helping José repair a guardrail, so I’m heading this way,” he pointed in the direction of the main entrance on the other side of the building. “Do you want to walk with me?” She nodded and fell into step with him.
“How are your play rehearsals going?” he asked after another moment of silence passed uncomfortably between them.
“They’re good. We had one a few days ago, actually.”
“And they went well?”
“Yeah. Everyone pretty much has their lines memorized now. We’re just getting all the props together and making sure everyone knows which way to enter and exit.”
Miguel nodded. “It sounds like a lot of work.”
Just as Elena felt they were beginning to have a normal conversation, they approached the white-canopied entry to the hotel. Elena noticed for the first time that it was a humble entrance for such a grand hotel. The outside of the hotel was massive, but the real charm was on the inside.
“Well, I have to go talk to the manager, so I will see you later.”
“Okay,” Elena said. Her voice was hollow as she watched him turn to walk back inside. Her feet felt as if they were nailed in place. So this was it: She was just going to let him walk away? This was possibly her last opportunity to take some action on her own, to make something happen, and she just stood there watching it float away like a balloon caught on a swift breeze.
“Miguel, wait,” she called, a little too loudly, chasing him down in the middle of the lobby. He turned to face her.
Elena wiped a sweaty palm on the front of her jeans and reached into her sweatshirt pocket, producing one shiny white ticket.
“I came here to give you this,” she mumbled. “All the play-wrights get three tickets to give to people they want to come to the plays. We’re supposed to give them to special people,” her face burned when she said the word special. “I gave my other two to Señor and Señora Cruz,” she added, holding the ticket gingerly out in front of her. “It would mean a lot to me if you came.” She barely squeaked the last part out and felt as if she was slowly melting into the marble floor.
He looked up and began to say something when the manager called out to him. Miguel turned his head quickly, and a look of agitation washed over his face.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the ticket from her hand. He hesitated for a moment and looked as if he might say more, but then turned toward the manager. Just before he sped off to the front desk, he slipped the ticket into the breast pocket of his shirt, right above his heart.
Chapter Thirteen
“I can’t do this,” Jenna whispered, her eyes shining under a thin veil of tears. “I mean, I really can’t do this.”
“What are you talking about, Jenna? You’ve been through this a million times.”
“But never with all these people. It was always just you and me and Alex. I, I feel sick.”
Elena pulled back the edge of one of the thick velvet curtains. The theater seats were sighing under the weight of so many audience members. She scanned the crowd searching for Miguel’s face among the masses, but then let go of the velvet panel and let it fall back in place. She couldn’t allow herself to look for him because if he was there it would make her even more nervous, and if he wasn’t there, she was afraid she would be so disappointed that her heart might shatter into a thousand splintered pieces right there on the scuffed wood floor.
“Okay, Jenna. You can do this,” Elena grasped her friend by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You can do this.” She’d never believed in a statement so strongly, though she was starting to wonder if it was belief or denial.
“I can’t Elena. I’ve never performed in front of so many people.”
What was she saying? Jenna wasn’t afraid of anything. This was the girl who wanted to go topless her first day in San Sebastián. This was the girl who would dance all night in front of strangers; who didn’t think twice about hitchhiking to Madrid. It wasn’t possible that she was afraid of being onstage. Unless stage fright was her Achilles’ heel, her kryptonite. Elena thought about the conversation she’d had with Alex about Jenna’s possible stage fright after their rehearsal a week ago, but she quickly pushed it out of her mind.
“Okay everyone,” Ms. B said. “Ten minutes to showtime.”
Elena turned back just in time to see a green-faced Jenna clutching her mouth and streaking through the darkness toward the bathroom.
“Jenna’s sick,” Alex noted as he glided in beside Elena.
“Yeah, I think the whole theater can hear her.”
“She’s really freaking out about going onstage.”
“She’ll be fine,” Elena said. She counted on Jenna to be the brave one.
“Look, Elena, you need a reality check. Jenna is really not fine, and we have to figure out what to do about it.”
Elena chuckled and gave Alex a punch in the arm that was meant to be playful, but landed with a painful-sounding thud. “Jenna will come through. I believe that.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
“Why? I’m totally calm.”
“Exactly, that’s why you’re freaking me out. We’re in deep here. You need to face it. Jenna’s not going to be able to go on.” Alex appeared on the verge of cracking. “Elena, we need a backup, and you are the only person who knows Jenna’s lines and her stage directions as well as she does. Probably even better, actually.”
Elena laughed. It was high-pitched and unnatural. “You’re joking. I can’t go out there. You think Jenna’s a little freaked. I would have, like, a total meltdown. We need to find someone else.”
“There isn’t anyone else.”
Ms. B walked over to them with her clipboard in hand. “Are you guys all ready to go?” She started to run through the changing of the sets to make sure they had it down when Alex interrupted her and told her about their predicament.
“Well, that is bad news. Do you think she’ll calm down enough to go on?”
Elena excused herself and ran over to the bathroom. She stuck her nose into the crack between the door and the frame and called Jenna’s name. The only response she heard was a groan. She tried the door, but it was locked.
“Jenna,” she called. “Is everything all right in there? We’re starting to get a little worried out here.” She tittered. “Jenna?”
“I can’t go out there, Elena.”
“Jenna, you have to....”
“I can’t do it.”
Elena scurried back over to Ms. B and Alex. “Um, it might be a few minutes.” She forced a cheerful smile.
“We have to go on in five,” Alex practically screeched.
“Elena, you know I’ve always believed you would do a great job,” Ms. B said gently, squeezing Elena’s shoulder.
“Who says I’m going out there?” Now she was starting to lose her cool. “Jenna will be fine,” Elena repeated for the third time in minutes. She was starting to sound like a delusional robot. Reality was beginning to sink in. She could feel the freak-out coming on like an earthquake.
“Elena,” Ms. B grasped her shoulders gently and forced Elena to meet her eyes. “It would be a terrible shame if this play wasn’t performed tonight. It deserves to be seen.”
Something strange began to happen. The freak-out subsided. Elena heard herself say, “Okay, I’ll do it. The show must go on, right?” Then she actually shrugged, as if what she was about to do was no big deal. As if standing up in front of a bunch of people and baring her soul was something she did every day. It was as if something had cracked open inside her like an egg hatching. She had worked so hard on this play. It was her baby. She couldn’t bear to see it die before it had even been given a chance.
The set movers scurried offstage, and Ms. B’s voice floated through the theater announcing Alex and Elena’s play. They were standing on the stage, just behind a line of shadow on the floor. As soon as they stepped into the light, they would find themselves out there in front of hundreds of people. Elena thought of the flamenco dancer in Madrid, the one who came out at the last minute and moved with such grace and ease. Her lack of rehearsal had made her appear that much more fresh and alive.
“You ready?” Alex whispered, squeezing Elena’s hand.
“I’m ready,” she said, and realized that she really meant it.
One of the acting techniques in dealing with stage fright Ms. B had taught the class was to imagine a fourth wall in place of the audience to make it seem as though they wer
e really in an intimate setting. She told them to imagine a wall from a familiar, comforting place.
“Stage fright is really audience fright,” Ms. B had lectured. “Your awareness of the fact that people are watching you is what will make you lock up. Get rid of the audience in your mind, and you’ll get rid of the fear.”
As soon as Elena found herself onstage she began to imagine the fourth wall. It wasn’t as hard as she had thought because the lights were so intense that they threw the audience into blackness. It was like a blank canvas on which she painted a mental picture of one of the walls in her bedroom back home. She pictured the wall decorated with pages she and Gwen had ripped out of magazines. The wall was covered with black-and-white jewelry ads, photos of Johnny Depp and Josh Hartnett, pictures of models prancing through Parisian streets or rolling on the beaches of Brazil, pictures of horses and stilettos with heels cut like daggers. For a short time Elena was simultaneously in a theater in Spain, in her bedroom at home, and in this strange world she had created with Alex. Ms. B had been right; acting was the ultimate exercise in imagination.
Acts one and two went off so elegantly, Elena couldn’t believe they were more than halfway through.
The mother-son reunion scene in the third act was one of the few where Elena didn’t have to be onstage. She was able to stand backstage and watch the scene between Alex and Stephanie, who was playing his mother.
Alex and Stephanie sat facing each other on two prop chairs. The stage was set to look like a living room.
“You certainly were determined to find me,” Stephanie said.
“Well, I was curious.”
“About me or about yourself?”
“Both, I think,” Alex said. He looked thoughtful. “I thought that when I met you, it would be like looking in a mirror, that all the things I’d never really understood about myself would be reflected back at me in you.”
Spain or Shine Page 15