Penelope

by Rebecca Harrington

“Do you have a lot of work?” asked Ted.

  “No,” said Penelope. “But it’s kind of hard to tell.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I haven’t really been doing it. Because of the play.”

  “Oh, the play!” said Ted. He laughed.

  “Yes,” said Penelope.

  “When is the end of the long national nightmare?” asked Ted.

  “Tomorrow is the final dress rehearsal,” said Penelope. The cast of Caligula had been having dress rehearsals all week. Penelope could not tell how they were going. At least everyone had shown up for last night’s rehearsal. Craig’s replacement hadn’t come. Penelope had given up on that.

  “Are you excited for it?” asked Ted.

  “I mean,” said Penelope, “I don’t think so.”

  “You have to be a little bit nervous,” said Ted.

  “Well,” said Penelope, “I have been having some nightmares.”

  “Good,” said Ted. “So you’re living with Catherine, I hear.”

  “Yes,” said Penelope.

  “That’s so great,” said Ted. “Are you living with your roommates too? How are they?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Penelope. Her face flushed. Interpersonally, things were actually rather tense in Pennypacker because Emma wasn’t speaking to her. This wasn’t so tiresome at rehearsal, but it was harder at home because they shared a room. If Emma was in the room when Penelope got there, she would sit there solidly, without speaking, while Penelope asked her questions. If Penelope went to use the bathroom as Emma was coming out of it, Emma would turn slightly away from her and pretend to see something across the room in order to avoid eye contact. Their group trip to the arboretum was in three days. Penelope hoped they could patch things up by then. If they didn’t, it was going to be quite awkward. She tried not to think about it.

  “Well, it’s their loss,” said Ted, smiling. “You are awesome.”

  “Oh, thanks,” said Penelope. She was charmed in spite of herself. She liked compliments and they were rarely bestowed on her. Gustav was complimentary but only in a way that sounded like an elaborate joke about compliments.

  As Penelope walked beside Ted, she realized that she had not talked to him one-on-one in some time. Her mind involuntarily flitted to the time they made out on her futon. She had not thought about that episode in months. It had been obscured by all the making out she had been doing with Gustav in bed. When she thought about it now, it seemed vaguely humiliating. She felt like her presence in the story was the thing that made it especially embarrassing. If someone else had been in her place, she would have been more normal with Ted; they could have preserved a better friendship, or they would have chosen no friendship. She wouldn’t have freaked out as much about Helen of Troy, or she would have freaked out more and gotten over it. Penelope always did things in the worst way.

  “In some ways, I kind of envy you,” continued Ted.

  “Why?”

  “Well, whatever you do it must be better than living with Mike, Nikil, and Jason. They have been talking about game theory and its connection to the housing process for the past month. The pregames have really taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Maybe you should make new friends,” said Penelope.

  “Who else would I be friends with?” asked Ted.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I literally do not know one person I would even want to be friends with.”

  “You could live with me and Catherine?” said Penelope. Coed blocking groups were technically allowed. They were a sort of ornamental concession to liberalism, since you couldn’t actually live in the same room as someone of the opposite sex.

  “She wanted to do that,” said Ted. “I thought it would be weird. What if we break up? It would be so awkward to see her in the same house.”

  “That’s true,” said Penelope. “But you probably won’t break up.”

  “We might break up this summer,” said Ted.

  “Really?” Penelope was shocked. As hard as it had been for her in the beginning, she had now accepted Ted and Catherine as an inalienable fact.

  “Yeah,” said Ted. “I think I might get an internship in Washington. I can’t really see how our thing is going to work. She’s going back to California. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Oh,” said Penelope. “Well, you can do long distance?”

  “We’ll see,” said Ted grimly. “But I would have to call her every day.”

  “Oh,” said Penelope. “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing this summer?”

  “I don’t know,” said Penelope. “I guess go home. Are people already deciding what they are going to do this summer? It is sleeting.”

  “Oh, yeah, everyone is,” said Ted. “Or at least everyone in my room. That’s why I am going to the registrar’s. I have to get my transcript for my intern application.”

  “Oh, weird,” said Penelope. “What are you applying for?”

  “I am trying to be a Senate page.”

  “You will be perfect for that,” said Penelope, thinking of the Roman Senate.

  “Well, I think we have to separate here,” said Ted. They were in front of the library.

  “Thanks for walking me,” said Penelope. She tried to wipe the sleet off her face with the back of her hand and failed.

  “No problem. You know, you should apply to be a page in Washington too. It would be fun! It would be good to have a friend there.”

  “Really?” asked Penelope.

  “Yeah,” said Ted.

  “I’ll think about it,” said Penelope. “But I don’t even know how many senators there are.”

  “Well, bye,” said Ted. He ran down the street. Penelope walked thoughtfully into the library. What did it all mean? She didn’t care all that much, but she cared a little.

  Sometime after this, Penelope was lying on her bed reading Look Homeward, Angel when Emma came into the room. Emma gave Penelope a look that could have peeled paint off a wall.

  “Hi, Emma,” said Penelope.

  Emma flung her purse onto her bed, turned around, and walked into the bathroom without speaking.

  Early on in this feud, Penelope had hoped Emma would just somehow forget about their tiff about Gustav. However, it seemed Emma was going to keep this going no matter what, and in a way, Penelope found that admirable. But Penelope really wanted to go to the arboretum. She was gradually becoming certain that if she went, it would usher in a new era in her relationship with Gustav. It would be an era of peace and conventionality. Pretty soon he would start hanging out with her in the daytime regularly. So she really had to patch this up.

  Penelope went out into the common room and found Emma sitting on the futon tearing used pages out of her notebook and clipping them into a binder. Penelope stood near the futon and looked at the ground. Emma was wearing a lime-green pashmina scarf around her neck. It was an indoor scarf, apparently. Penelope wondered about the scarf. Did it itch? That was not a good question, she thought.

  “Listen, Emma,” said Penelope.

  “I am trying to organize my notes,” said Emma.

  “I just want to say I’m sorry,” said Penelope.

  Emma looked up.

  “Whatever,” said Emma. “I am not mad.”

  “What can I do?” said Penelope. “I feel terrible.”

  “I just can’t believe you lied to me,” said Emma.

  “I know,” said Penelope. “I’m sorry.”

  “People are always failing me, and they are always disappointing me.”

  “That must be hard,” said Penelope.

  “I had a friend in high school who lied to me about her boyfriend for an entire year. So it’s even more hurtful.”

  “Yes,” said Penelope.

  “And for it to be Gustav. How could you do that to Bitty? Or me? I mean, we practically dated.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that,” said Penelope.

  “I told you before.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, right,” said Penelope. She still didn’t remember this, but it seemed futile to argue the point. “Well, what can I do?”

  “I think you need to stop seeing Gustav,” said Emma simply and articulately. “It’s just so bad. It’s bad for you.”

  “OK,” said Penelope.

  “Good,” said Emma, who started clipping her notes into her binder again.

  “Wait, really?” said Penelope.

  “Yes,” said Emma.

  “OK,” said Penelope.

  Penelope walked back in her room. They had made up, it seemed. As she flopped onto her bed, she considered her philosophical stances. She tried to be agreeable most of the time and go with the flow, so if Emma really wanted her to stop seeing Gustav, then she supposed she would have to comply. At the same time, she really didn’t want to do that. Maybe she could keep things a secret. Impulsively, Penelope picked up her cell phone and texted Gustav the words “Hello, what are you up to?” Then she started reading her book again.

  Two days later, Penelope woke up with a premonition of doom. For a while, she lay in bed with her eyes open, mulling over her current circumstances and trying to pinpoint the source of her discomfort. Then she remembered that tomorrow was opening night of Caligula. Yesterday’s dress rehearsal had not been a success. Rattailed Caligula fell into an accidental split during the ballet. Bitty knew approximately one-third of her lines.

  Intellectually, Penelope thought excessive guilt was self-indulgent, but that did not stop her from the occasional flagellating reflection. Caligula was a horrible destiny, but in another way, what had she done to deserve such suffering? Why did she even agree to be in this play? It was something about being helpful, Penelope decided, the worst of all motivating factors.

  Penelope got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. When she got out of the shower, she put on a pair of white pants, a white sweater, and white socks to symbolize the sacrificial nature of tomorrow’s events. As she went into the common room to get her coat and leave to go to class, Lan came out of her bedroom to go to the bathroom. It was eleven a.m., which was a relatively early emergence for Lan. She was carrying Raymond under her arm like a book and was wearing a yellow terry-cloth bathrobe over her T-shirt, so Penelope could not see what was on it.

  “Hi, Lan,” said Penelope. “You’re up early.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” said Lan. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her non-Raymond hand.

  “Me neither,” said Penelope. “I am worried about Caligula.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “But you do the lights!” said Penelope. “You have to go!”

  “No, I don’t,” said Lan.

  “Oh,” said Penelope.

  “What is that outfit?” said Lan, looking at Penelope’s pants.

  “A white outfit,” said Penelope.

  “If I do the lights for the play, then I am bringing Raymond to tomorrow’s show. I hope you don’t get allergies,” said Lan.

  She walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Penelope left and started walking to her first class. Lan had never worried about her allergies before. Maybe they were becoming closer friends.

  Penelope’s first class was Southern Writers Reconsidered/Revisited. Penelope arrived late. It was raining again, which was bad for her white outfit.

  “Since we are only going to read the first forty pages of The Sound and the Fury,” said the professor, glaring at Penelope but blessedly not remonstrating her for tardiness, “I might as well tell you what it is about.”

  As the professor summarized the entire plot of The Sound and the Fury, Penelope sunk into a reverie about Gustav. Penelope had not heard from him since the limericks evening and it was starting to make her anxious. He never texted her back the other night. It had been only five days or so, so it was possible that Gustav was busy and therefore not available. Penelope was very busy too (she supposed), but it didn’t really affect her availability. She was always available. That was the thing.

  “And that’s when he drops the flower on the ground,” said the professor. “OK, so for next week, we are reading parts of A Streetcar Named Desire. Your assignment, for your response paper, is to go see a play this weekend. In your response paper, I want you to discuss the differences between viewing a play and reading a play. They are very different. Notice the staging. We are going to talk a lot about the literary quality in Williams’s stage directions. In fact, the entire excerpt I am giving to you is stage directions.”

  “What’s playing this weekend?” asked one of the kids in the class.

  “Caligula,” said the professor. “My friend and former classmate here, Henry Wills-Mather, is directing it. I am sure he will do something absolutely fantastic with the text. He is extremely innovative.”

  “I think there are other things playing too,” said Penelope without raising her hand. “I think there is a dance show.”

  “I don’t want people to see a dance show. That is not a play,” said the professor testily.

  “OK,” said Penelope.

  “Class dismissed,” said the professor.

  Ten people, thought Penelope as she walked slowly out of the classroom, dragging her foot behind her slightly, out of stress. Ten extra people who were not originally going to go to Caligula were now going to go to Caligula. Penelope was unsure the theater could even hold that many people. Maybe Henry Wills-Mather would use them as human props. She shuddered at the thought.

  Penelope had a free hour between her Southern Writers class and her Dinosaurs section, so she went to get a coffee at the Barker Center. She was standing in a long line when something awful happened.

  “Penelope, is that you?” It was Jared. He was in line behind her. He stepped obviously out of the line and sidled up beside her, perhaps to talk at length. Penelope felt a shooting pain in her foot. Maybe she was getting a clubfoot.

  “Oh, hi, yes,” said Penelope, wincing.

  “How are you, Penelope?” said Jared. “How is this semester going?”

  “Oh,” said Penelope. The line was moving very slowly. “It’s really cool.”

  “I figured you must have been busy because you didn’t come to the final office hours I had,” said Jared. “We had Rice Krispies treats. I think the section really enjoyed themselves.”

  “Well,” said Penelope. “You are right! I was busy! You see, I am in this play.”

  “Ahh, Caligula,” said Jared. “I am going to that tomorrow!”

  “You are?” said Penelope. “Why?”

  “Why not? I said I was going. You are still my proctee, after all. Perhaps I can get everyone in the dorm to go.”

  “Can I have a coffee, please?” said Penelope in a strangled voice to the woman behind the counter.

  “I’m very excited about it,” continued Jared. “I love the idea of setting it in French Algeria. That’s fucking brilliant.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Penelope. The woman handed Penelope her coffee and Penelope slammed two dollars onto the counter with unnecessary vehemence. “Well, I have to get to another class. Bye!”

  “See you tomorrow night!” yelled Jared.

  Penelope ran out of the building. She ran down the street and didn’t stop running until she spilled coffee all over her white pants. She found a leaf on the ground and was trying to wipe the coffee off her pants with it when she got a call from her mother.

  “Penelope!” said her mother.

  “Mom!” said Penelope.

  “I am so excited for the play!”

  “You’re coming?” asked Penelope.

  “Of course I am coming! It is your theatrical debut!”

  “I really don’t think parents are allowed to come,” said Penelope.

  “Penelope, that is ridiculous. Of course parents are allowed to come! I have never heard of something like this where parents wouldn’t be able to come. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “OK,” said Penelope.

  “What is the play called again?” asked Pen
elope’s mother.

  “Caligula,” said Penelope.

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Penelope’s mother. “Is it a musical?”

  “No,” said Penelope.

  “Well, what’s it about?”

  “I don’t really know,” said Penelope. “It’s an absurdist play, so it doesn’t really make any sense. But that is on purpose. It’s supposed to show how narrative doesn’t mean anything in the modern age.”

  “Oh,” said Penelope’s mother. “Well, that is depressing. Maybe I shouldn’t bring your grandmother.”

  “Yeah,” said Penelope.

  “Or Father Bennigan.”

  “Definitely not,” said Penelope.

  Penelope wandered around for the rest of the day in a haze. She went to two more classes. She went to the library and opened up her laptop and stared at it. She was late for everything because of her clubfoot. Occasionally, she would feel a paroxysm of fear when she thought about the sheer number of people who were coming to the play. This would eventually subside into a mild sickness.

  By dinnertime, Penelope was not particularly hungry, but she felt like she needed to at least show up at the dining hall and go through the motions of eating. She was putting pickles on a chicken patty sandwich when she ran into Glasses and Nikil. They were also making chicken patty sandwiches at the chicken patty sandwich–making station.

  “Hey, Penelope,” said Nikil. “Nice outfit.”

  “Oh, thanks,” said Penelope. “Do you want to sit together? I didn’t come here with anyone.”

  “No,” said Nikil. “We are just taking these sandwiches to go. We have to do some studying tonight if we are going to see the play this weekend.”

  “Oh,” said Penelope. “What play? The dance show?”

  “No,” said Nikil. “I didn’t know there was a dance show. Your play. Caligula.”

  “Oh, why?” said Penelope too loudly. She couldn’t help but feel there was a note of franticness in her voice. She didn’t want it to be there, but she couldn’t really help it.

  “Because!” said Nikil, slightly annoyed. “I love Caligula. It is one of my favorite plays.”

  “Me too,” said Glasses. “Plus, I am writing the review for the Crimson, so I get in for free.”