Set the Stage

by Karis Walsh

  Arden laughed. “No. I just have never thought about changing careers.”

  Not exactly true. Ever since Emilie had taken her on the backstage tour, introducing her to Gwen and giving her a sense of the interplay between sets and actors, she had been fascinated by the idea of stage design. She had even bought some books on the subject at the local bookstore. But give up her job at the park to become an intern? Wasn’t she a little old to become an apprentice?

  “You have to start at the bottom, but the festival will give you an intensive introduction to the craft. There are few places in the world where you’d have as many opportunities in your first job as you will here. Arden, if your talent lives up to my expectations, you will be able to make a name for yourself. You’d be able to travel, to go anywhere you’d like.”

  Arden felt herself physically pull back when her mind recoiled from Gwen’s words. Arden’s world had been shaken time and again by people leaving her to pursue their theater dreams. Was she going to become one of them? Just pack up and leave whenever the whim struck or the next play called?

  She took a deep breath and tried to calm her frantically scattered thoughts. Like Emilie had said, she wouldn’t be leaving anyone. She didn’t have ties to this town anymore, except for the sentimental and habitual ones that kept her in this park. And Gwen had never said she’d have to go—maybe there would be a place for her here, with her beloved festival.

  Arden felt herself reaching toward the possibilities Gwen was offering, but tentatively, like a vine slowly twining toward sunlight. A tendril here, a brief touch there, as she imagined working with sets the way Gwen did. Learning a new craft. She had loved the process of working on her miniature stages, but now she was being given a chance to expand and work on a grander scale.

  Gwen had been watching her silently, giving her time to process the information, but she seemed to see something shift in Arden’s expression and she smiled.

  “Let me know by the end of the week,” she said, with the smug look of someone who knew they’d won. “It’s only a year commitment, Arden. If you like it, you can stay on or move to a different theater. If you don’t, I’m sure your supervisor here would welcome you back.”

  Arden nodded. Jacob would gladly rehire her if necessary. And he’d be jumping up and down in frustration right now if he could hear their conversation, yelling at her not to be a fool and give up this opportunity.

  “I’ll let you know. And thank you for the offer. I never expected…”

  “You’re welcome, Arden. You deserve this chance, and I have no doubt you’ll make the most of it. If you say yes, of course.”

  She picked up her book and walked away, leaving Arden alone on the bench. She had always felt connected to the festival, but as a spectator. Or as a cohost to all the tourists, making them feel welcome in the park and the town. She pulled out her phone and did a quick search for the recently announced list of next year’s plays. Macbeth. Twelfth Night. She scrolled through the list, trying to imagine herself designing sets and painting scenery. It didn’t take much effort to see herself on the stages, behind the scenes.

  Would Emilie be back in Ashland next year? Would she be acting on sets Arden had designed? Arden sighed. She should be happy she was single and unfettered. She could make a decision about this opportunity without needing to consult anyone else.

  She wanted someone else to consult, though. She wanted someone to be part of her decision-making and her future-planning. She wanted someone to care about her fledgling dreams of designing sets, and she wanted to offer the same concern to a partner’s goals.

  Not just any partner. Emilie. Arden wanted Emilie in her life, standing beside her as they made choices for the future. For their future.

  She shook her head. She, of all people, should know better than to expect a lasting relationship with an actor. And now she was considering a job in the theater. She had always been the one left behind, but now she would be on the other side, possibly getting job offers that would give her the urge to move on. Just like her parents.

  Arden grew still as she thought about them. They had left, yes, but they had stayed together. Two successful careers, and one life together. She thought about the last few articles she had read about them. Her mom had been in a play in New York until five months ago, when the play closed and they went to California, where her dad was the director of a musical. They had been married over thirty years. Arden leaned her head back against the stone bench. Could she and Emilie ever have a life with each other, with give and take in careers and locations, like her parents had?

  She laughed at herself. Suddenly she was holding them up as the ideal relationship. Something to emulate. Crazy.

  She saw Emilie’s blond hair through the trees and recognized her familiar walk before Em rounded the corner and waved at her. She felt a momentary flicker of pleasure at the idea that her thoughts of Emilie had somehow conjured her up, but she was being foolish. Emilie often came here between rehearsals or before her performances, so her presence wasn’t unexpected. And Arden was almost always thinking of her, so there was no real coincidence to be found.

  But something had changed for Arden. From the moment she had stumbled upon Emilie, acting in the clearing, Arden’s reality had shifted. Toward a new career and toward an uncertain future.

  And toward love.

  Arden closed her eyes and composed herself before Emilie reached her bench. She didn’t want to let these confusing emotions show on her face before she had a chance to figure them out. And she couldn’t look at Emilie with an expression of love since she knew Emilie didn’t feel the same way about her.

  “Package delivery,” Emilie said, handing Arden a heavy box. “I was in town and stopped by Marty’s shop.”

  “Ah, the medallions.” Arden opened the box and looked at the beautiful glass discs. She would set them in a trifold backdrop of plywood for one of the stages, creating an outdoor setting with a sun and moon. The disc with the masks would go in the center. “Thank you. Did you like her store?”

  “It’s beautiful. She gave me a wine goblet.”

  Arden smiled. “She’s very talented.”

  “Speaking of…I ran into Gwen near the entrance to the park, and she told me you were back here. Did she have anything interesting to say today? Anything special to ask you?”

  Arden tipped her head to one side. Had Emilie put Gwen up to this? She looked as smug as Gwen had earlier. “She offered me an internship with the company next year. Set design.”

  Emilie grinned. “And you said yes, right?”

  “I said I’d think about it. Did you tell her to ask me?”

  “Of course not. I’d heard about the internship, and when I saw a chance to introduce the two of you, I took it. This is all you, Arden, and you deserve it.”

  Arden draped her arm over the back of the bench and let her hand rest on Emilie’s shoulder, giving her a light squeeze. “Well, thank you. For introducing me, and for giving me the inspiration for the stages in the first place.”

  “You’re welcome.” Emilie looked at some point ahead of her, showing only her profile to Arden. “So. You saw the play.”

  Arden exhaled softly. “Yes. I know you asked me not to go, and I’m sorry, but—”

  Emilie shook her head. “I don’t mind, Arden. I’m embarrassed because you saw it, but in a way, I’m glad you did. You’ll be able to understand how much work I need to do if I’m going to improve enough to keep the part.”

  “Why wouldn’t they keep you? You’re their new star.”

  Emilie turned to face her, raising one eyebrow in a Come on. Really? kind of expression.

  “You are,” Arden insisted. “All right, I’ll admit it wasn’t my favorite role for you, but it’s hard to beat Titania.”

  “Very diplomatic. How long did it take you to think of something true, but not completely insulting to say?”

  Two hours. Arden didn’t tell Emilie that, though. She just laughed and bumped Em’s sho
ulder as if she thought Emilie was joking.

  “I have one matinee to prove myself. Either I do better on Saturday, or they’re putting someone else in the role. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already have an actor picked out.”

  Arden was relieved. In all honesty, she had been expecting Emilie to tell her she’d been put back in the understudy role—or worse, taken out of it, too. “Well, you have three days. I’ll be happy to run lines with you, or to take you out so you can relax and get your mind off the part for an evening. Whatever you need.”

  Emilie shook her head. “What I need…what I was coming to tell you is that I won’t be coming by the park for a while. This role means too much to me to let myself get distracted, and I’ll be rehearsing so much I won’t have any free time. You understand, don’t you, Arden?”

  “Not really.” Arden crossed her arms over her chest. She felt cold deep inside, where the love she had been feeling for Emilie only moments before had made her feel warm and hopeful. “Are you saying I’m the distraction you need to eliminate? That spending time with me is the reason your role is at risk?”

  Emilie put her hand on Arden’s forearm, but Arden didn’t change positions or make any move to return the touch. “I’m not blaming you. I’m the one who messed up last night. I’m the one who can’t connect with Cassella well enough to perform to the festival’s standards. But I am also the one who needs to concentrate on the play until I can step inside it. When I’m around you, I think of…other things.”

  Arden scuffed her foot through the gravel. Emilie was leaving her, just like Arden had always known she would. But leaving for no good reason, without any notice. Arden had never fought to keep someone with her, if they truly wanted to go, but she couldn’t just stand aside and let Emilie walk out of her life.

  “Are you planning to sit in your room all alone and read your lines over and over again?”

  “If that’s what it takes, then yes. The director told me to make drastic changes before Saturday. He expects major improvement.”

  “So you picked me as your drastic change? How flattering.”

  “Arden, I—”

  “You’re wrong, Emilie. You’re making the wrong choice. You should be spending more time with me. More time in town and with friends. Not less.”

  “I have to focus. I’m not here to socialize, but to act.” Emilie’s voice was sharp, but Arden heard the fear underlying her harsh tone. Fear of failure. Fear that she had been away from acting too long and wouldn’t ever be able to come back with the same force and potential she once showed.

  “Isolating yourself isn’t the answer, Em.” Arden tried to keep her voice reasonable, but she felt the woman she loved slipping away from her. Emilie wasn’t going to become a brand-new actor overnight. Either she would improve enough to keep the part—and then spend the rest of the season sequestered and staring at a script—or she would lose the role and maybe never recover her confidence. “You’re trying to control everything. Work alone, without letting anyone else help. But it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes.”

  “No, it’s not. I was weak and vulnerable in Europe, with hardly any income and trailing along after another person’s dreams. I won’t let myself feel that way ever again.”

  “Then you’ll never play Cassella well.” The words came out of Arden’s mouth as soon as she thought them, before she could stop herself from saying them. Their echo lingered between Arden and Emilie, saying everything Arden hadn’t wanted to say—that Emilie really hadn’t been any good last night, and that Arden had doubts about her ability to ever perform the part better than she had. Both were things Arden would rather have kept inside. Given Emilie’s shocked expression, she would have preferred for Arden to shut up, too.

  But the words had been said. Arden hurried to explain herself. “Cassella is weak, Em. She’s hurting, and she is easily manipulated by everyone around her because she can’t trust herself to judge people or situations correctly. So she blindly gives up her child and her freedom, and then she can’t get them back. She’s everything you dislike in yourself, Emilie.”

  Arden uncrossed her arms and shifted on the bench until she was facing Emilie. She put her hands on Emilie’s shoulders, wanting to keep her close. “You can’t play a part like that with control, or by practicing more. At some point you need to be as weak as she is.”

  “Embrace my inner Cassella?” Emilie’s voice was laced with dislike.

  “Yes,” Arden said. “She’s awesome in some ways, too. She keeps trying no matter what horrible things happen to her. And the messier she gets, the stronger and more lucid she becomes. She’s resilient and brave, just like you.”

  Emilie frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know. I understand what you’re telling me, Arden, but I have to do this my own way. Last night I wasn’t prepared for the role because I didn’t know I’d be playing it until yesterday morning. But I have a few days before Saturday, and I’m going to prepare the hell out of my part.”

  She stood up. “It’s early in the season. I’ll eventually either adapt to the company or not. If I do, maybe we can…Maybe I’ll have time to come here and see you more often.”

  Emilie walked away from Arden, leaving her with the ironic consolation of finally knowing how Emilie felt about her. If Arden meant nothing to her, Emilie wouldn’t have bothered cutting her out of her life. She would have been able to see her and chat when she had time. Instead, Emilie saw her as a threat to her ability to concentrate and perform. She needed to feel in control, and her feelings for Arden were getting in the way.

  Great. If Emilie didn’t care about her very much, she wouldn’t have left. And knowing she cared about Arden only made her departure more painful.

  Arden picked up the box of medallions and took it to the shed where she had the plywood ready to go. She didn’t feel like working on the stages, but she had to keep her mind busy. She’d give Emilie the space she was so determined to have and would take the opportunity to hone her own focus. On her career, and on her stages. She’d call Gwen in the morning and accept the internship. And then she’d see where this new life took her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emilie was lying on her bed, reading through her script and all the notes she had made in the margins for the hundredth time. Every line she read made her think of Arden, and she was seeing Cassella emerge in a new light. She still didn’t resonate with the character, and she wasn’t convinced she needed less control over herself rather than more, but she was beginning to understand Arden’s interpretation of the play. And she was continuing to miss her.

  She dropped the script on her stomach and stared at the ceiling. She had gone more than a day without going to the park or meeting Arden in town plenty of times before, but this was different. She had actively pushed Arden out of her life, as if she was reliving the moments before she’d left for Europe but trying to change the end of the story this time. But Arden wasn’t Leah.

  And present-day Emilie wasn’t the one who had run away years before. Unfortunately, she was still as stubborn as ever, and she had to follow through with her plan to immerse herself in Skywriting until the matinee—or, as she was calling it now, Audition Day. But even if she stuck to the schedule of readings and rehearsals she had written down, she could still let Arden’s suggestions simmer in the background.

  Emilie heard a soft knock on her door. “Come in,” she called.

  “You busy?” Olivia asked, stepping into Emilie’s room.

  “Yes, but I can take a quick break. What’s up?” Emilie set the script on her bedside table and propped herself up on a pile of pillows. Olivia held up her notebook and Emilie groaned. “Another interrogation?”

  “Just a few questions. No, don’t get up. You might be more inclined to talk if you’re lying down.” She pulled Emilie’s desk chair closer to the bed and sat down, flipping to a blank page in her notebook. “I saw your reviews.”

  “Oh, God.” Emilie grabbed a pillow and held it over her face,
but Olivia tugged it out of her grasp and tossed it aside.

  “Have you read them?”

  “No. And don’t you dare tell me what they said. I have to play the part again on Saturday, and I don’t need those words stuck in my head.”

  “How does this make you feel?”

  Emilie raised up on one elbow and glared at Olivia. “Seriously?”

  Olivia laughed. “No. Well, yes, in a way. I’m wondering if the reviews change the way you feel about your performance.”

  Emilie flopped back onto the bed. “Not even a little. I know how I did, and I heard the opinions of the director of the festival. Even if the reviews had been glowing, they wouldn’t have changed the way the show went.”

  “I’m sorry.” Olivia tapped her pencil on her notebook. “If it helps, you’ve gotten some really great reviews for the other plays.”

  Emilie shrugged. “Thanks.”

  Olivia put her bare feet on the bed and gently kicked Emilie’s hip. “What’s the first review you ever got for a play? From anyone, not just in a paper.”

  “My mom,” Emilie said without hesitation. “I got the role of Peter Pan in grade school, but Becky Fisher was jealous and she tripped me during one of the scenes. I cut my lip and had to finish the performance with bloodstains on my costume. My mom came over to me after the show and said, I told you this was a bad idea.” Emilie could picture every moment from that production, and the memory made her smile, despite her mother’s angry words. “Most of the scenery fell over, piece by piece, so the stage was practically flat by the end of the show. Our teacher spent most of the night in tears. Peter Pan was a bloody mess, and Becky refused to say any of her lines in protest. It was the best night of my life.”

  Olivia laughed, then shook her head. “You aren’t kidding, are you?”

  “Nope. Compared to my normal life, this was the most fun I could imagine. And pretending to be someone else was a revelation for me.”

  “I thought actors liked to play make-believe before they were out of diapers.”