by Marisa Calin
Mia takes her seat in front of me across the aisle as the giant chandelier dims. I look at her in the darkness, the curtain rising. She’s looking at me! No, what I thought was the light in her eye is her earring glinting in the aisle lights. My eyes adjust to the dark and I can see the same concentrated expression she has in class when she watches us. The stage lights come up, finally taking my attention. I imagine myself up there with the lights, the audience, the adrenaline. It could be me, I know it could, and every moment I sit here, I wish more and more that it was.
THEATER FOYER. INTERMISSION.
We crowd into the bar area at intermission and watch people swan away from the bar with their wineglasses, making comments that sound like the posters. We have just found an alcove when I see Elle with her arms around someone. I crane my neck with curiosity and swallow my reaction. She’s kissing Tony! Tucked over by the bar stools, in a corner lit by a blue bar light that makes her yellow top look green, they’re making out. So, the skirt did the trick! I elbow you in the side and point them out. You make a “to each their own” face. Turning away, I can’t help thinking about Tony’s lanky embrace—I guess the boat has sailed there, then. I hadn’t heard anything about him liking Elle all of a sudden and that gets to me. It’s not that the attention had been nice but it seems fickle. I’m more certain than ever that Tony is not what I want—maybe I’m just a little envious of how much simpler it would be. I flick through the program and we talk about the play instead. You’re sweetly sincere, so I manage to forget about the goings-on in the corner and look forward to the second half. A brassy bell rings to send us back to our seats, and I scan the crowd for Mia as we herd back into the auditorium. She is talking to Kate, in the attentive way I’ve seen before. I look instead at the chandelier and push away my feeling of jealousy, a sensation I’ve come to hate more than any other. I wish I never had to feel it again.
THEATER FOYER. AFTER THE PLAY.
We traipse out of the auditorium into the glare of the foyer. Seeing a play stops time—makes the real world seem so harsh. I blink in the light and, realizing that I managed not to think about anything else for the past hour, I cherish the moment. The sight of Mia disappearing through the doors into the night ahead brings back my excitement for tomorrow and the familiar brow-furrowing pang that seems always with me nowadays. We follow her out and, under the light of the evening street lamps, I remember the faint sense of importance that I started the evening with. She hasn’t spoken to me yet. The evening wasn’t what I thought it might be but there’s always tomorrow. Tonight I’m happy to slide in beside you in the darkness of the bus.
You lean against the window, and I lean against you, and we watch the lights go by in silence.
MY KITCHEN. FRIDAY MORNING.
Meet me tomorrow is now today. It feels like forever since yesterday and yet today came so fast. By the time I got home last night, my anticipation had tripled and I couldn’t sleep. In my head I practiced appropriate responses to the possible conversations we could be going to have. I’ve spent an hour getting ready for school and this afternoon still feels like an eternity away. I’ll go crazy! I’ve had a few spoonfuls of cornflakes and now I’m staring at the bowl, wondering why I would ever want to eat. Mom comes in and asks me if I liked the play. I’m too preoccupied to be chatty. Not hungry? she says. Not like you, hon. Everything okay? She hugs me as I leave for school and for a second I want to stay in that hug forever. Then, drawn by the thought of Mia, I am out the door.
SCHOOL COURTYARD. NEARLY “AFTER SCHOOL.”
Nearly there! Fifteen minutes to go; today, fifteen minutes feels like a lifetime. Final class of the day and we’ve been let out of history early. Given my concentration level, I couldn’t even tell you it was history. I slip into the courtyard ahead of everyone, wondering where I should wait. I mentioned at lunch today that I’m meeting Mia, so you know not to stick around. The library! It’s quiet—there’s never anyone there—and, thinking that peace and quiet might help, I head quickly for the doors.
SCHOOL LIBRARY. MOMENTS LATER.
There are bookcases on every side of me, as high as the ceiling. I head down an aisle. There’s Harmony. At least there’s the top of her head, her face in a book. She’s one of the only two people in here. I stand in fiction and pretend to look busy. From the corner of my eye, I watch her expression as she reads. She seems so comfortable being who she is, so open that, forgetting I didn’t want company, I go and sit down opposite her. She raises her eyes to me expectantly.
HARMONY
Hi.
ME
Hi.
Even her “Hi” is peacefully melodic. I speak before I’m even aware of the question forming in my head:
How come you don’t try as hard as everyone else to be liked?
There is an impatient shhh from the one other person in here.
HARMONY
Liked?
I feel the sweaty panic of saying something stupid, and make effusive efforts to cover it up.
ME
I just mean you’re different, different good. Great different. Yourself!
She smiles.
HARMONY
I’m kidding. I consider it a compliment.
I let my breath out.
ME
It is a compliment. I’d like to be more like you.
She smiles.
HARMONY
Really? Well, I can’t see the point of being exactly like everyone else.
We share a minute of thoughtful silence. She looks at me carefully.
HARMONY
What are you so afraid of?
That’s an excellent question! I’m still trying to find an answer when she continues:
Everything you’re going through is perfectly normal.
My heart falters. I make sure my expression says “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” but I have a nervous inkling that I do.
HARMONY
I had the biggest crush on a friend of my sister once. She was amazing.
She goes on, completely unfazed.
It’s funny how there can be something special about that one person, isn’t it?
I’m that transparent!? The idea is mortifying but at the same time this girl has just given me license to feel something. Catching my stunned expression, she smiles warmly.
HARMONY
I’ve had a hundred crushes. There’s a lot to be attracted to in this world. There’s nothing wrong with that.
I swallow, staring at her and waiting for my heart rate to settle.
ME
I’m afraid of what everyone will say behind my back.
She puts her hand on the table between us in an unexpectedly comforting way.
HARMONY
Kind of ridiculous, isn’t it. Since when should we be punished for a feeling like love?
Her startling wisdom imparted, she says she’ll get back to her reading. Still reeling at her perceptiveness when the bell goes a moment later, I stand up impulsively, my purpose coming back to me with a jolt. This is the now I’ve been waiting for! Shouldering my bag, I struggle to find some parting word for Harmony. She returns my gaze, not seeming to expect me to say anything. So, with a simple nod, I make for the door and she waves her farewell. My rapid unchecked footsteps reverberate on the wood floor and the shhh from that one other person in here echoes after me.
SCHOOL HALLWAY. SOON AFTER.
Mia is coming out of her classroom as I arrive, my heart already picking up pace with anticipation. She greets me with a warm smile.
MIA
Hi. Ready? Walk with me.
Ready? Yes! I swallow and fall in beside her. She is clutching a paperbound book. Heading through the doors with her, listening to her voice, I forget every second of expectation that has led up to this moment. We walk side by side across the grass toward the theater. She’s talking about class, my vivid imagination. The seconds slow and to me we could be the only two people on earth. Turning onto the path, we sit down under the arch in
front of the theater. I feel so awake—the texture of the bench under my palm, Mia’s closeness, the crisp fall air. She says I’m a sensitive, honest actress and, dazed with compliments, I am missing the point.
MIA
So …
Finally! I was about to throw my arms around her neck and tell her that I love her too.
MIA
I’m putting on the fall play this year and I want you to audition.
Audition? Grasping the reality, I nod my head. Of course I was going to audition, I want to be an actress. But to know she wants me there. This could be perfect.
ME
Sure.
She claps her hands together, genuinely excited.
MIA
Excellent. Here’s the script. Have a look at Lily.
She hands it to me, and I clutch it like a present. Kate appears at the end of the path.
KATE
Mia, you wanted to see me.
She says her name to her face like it’s butter on her tongue. Mia is already up and walking away. She smiles back at me.
MIA
See you Monday for auditions, Phyre.
I sit beneath the arch as I process everything that just happened. So I’m not the only one who Mia has arranged to meet. That’s okay. Maybe I blew it a little out of proportion. Even alone, I feel my face flush pink and my chest constrict with private embarrassment. As I find my feet and walk toward the gate, new (sane) thoughts start to take shape. At least this is my chance to spend time with Mia. My new sense of purpose intensifies as I walk; I’m recognizing with every step how imperative it is that I get this part. If I don’t, I can’t begin to imagine the jealousy that I’ll have to live with—about all the time she’ll be spending with someone who isn’t me.
MY BEDROOM. THAT EVENING.
First thing when I get home from a tediously long shift at Peele’s, I run upstairs and fling myself down on my bed, pulling Mia’s script carefully out of my bag. Lying on my front, I tuck my hair behind my ears and press open the paper cover. Holly pushes through the door and jumps up onto the bed, stepping across the small of my back to find a choice spot on the windowsill. I reach to rub the top of her head, and then start to read …
THE PRICE HOUSE. EVENING. 1950.
The bedroom of Lily Price. A record player plays jazz. Lily, seventeen, a pretty, vivacious small-town girl, turns it up. She sweeps her hair out of her face and dances to the music. She puts on lipstick, curls her eyelashes, and then fastens her necklace and smooths it down beneath the collar of her satin dress. Abuzz with nerves and excitement, she is almost ready for her first date with Michael. She has dreamed of this moment. He should be here any minute.
The front doorbell rings. She takes one last look in the mirror, sprays herself with perfume, and runs down the stairs into the kitchen. Bobby, their farmhand, is sitting down for soup at the kitchen table. He grins at her affectionately.
BOBBY
Where are you going, Miss Price?
LILY
Never you mind.
BOBBY
But I do.
LILY
I’m going on a real date, Bobby, with a real man.
BOBBY
Fine by me. You’ll come back when you know what’s right for you.
LILY
You just see if I do.
She snaps her purse shut, shoots him one last glare, and stalks out the door as sexily as she knows how.
MOM
Phyre.
I flip the play shut. Mom is calling from downstairs. I consider pretending I didn’t hear but she calls again.
ME
Yeah!
I can’t hear her reply, so I reluctantly slide off the bed and go into the hall. At the bottom of the stairs, I see you beside her, looking up at me.
ME
Hi!
Right now I’d rather read the play than anything but as I look down at your open expression and Mom disappears back into the kitchen, I figure I can spare a minute. Trotting down the stairs, I jump the last step and meet your gaze.
YOU
So what did she say?
You haven’t taken off your coat yet so, instead of inviting you in, I pull my sweater off the peg by the door and we go into the garden. There’s a chill in the air but it smells good out and we wander over to the tree house we built in fifth grade. “Tree house” equals plank between two branches, barely five feet off the ground, but it seemed death defying at the time. We squeeze side by side onto the plank, legs dangling.
YOU
So?
ME
Mia thinks I should audition for the play this year.
I look at you in the light from the windows of the house, wondering if your expression will give away the “Is that all?” that I tried not to feel.
YOU
Of course you should!
I smile.
ME
She gave me a copy and I had just started reading—
YOU
Oh, sorry, would you rather get back to it?
ME
No. No, that’s okay.
Sitting in the tree beside you, staring up at the night sky, it really does seem okay. The breeze picks up and makes me shiver.
YOU
Cold?
I shake my head, even though I am a little. Then, forgetting that I wanted to be by myself tonight, I suggest we get hot chocolate and go up to my room to read the play together. We attempt a dismount at the same time, getting temporarily wedged together in the crook of the tree. After choreographing the maneuver, we head inside, laughing.
MY BEDROOM. SOON AFTER.
You’re lying beside me with the play, catching up on the first scene. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, picturing Lily, excited and nervous. I’m caught up in imagining how I would feel when you reach your arm across my chest—to rub Holly behind her ear. I had completely forgotten she was there, still curled in a ball on the cushion on the windowsill! Not seeing my surprise, you keep your arm across me for another moment, rubbing her tummy. I watch her unfurl under your hand. Turning your attention back to the play, you ask me if I’m ready to read the next scene together. I sit up. The idea now seems somehow embarrassing. It feels more intimidating one on one than it would in front of an entire audience. Audition jitters maybe.
ME
You’ll read Bobby?
YOU
I’ll rock Bobby.
You encouragingly tilt the page toward me as you start reading the next stage direction.
THE PRICE HOUSE. MORNING.
Whistling, Lily skips downstairs into the kitchen, buttoning her dressing gown. Exhilarated, she happily sets about making breakfast. Bobby’s head appears around the kitchen door:
BOBBY
How’s lover boy?
LILY
Bobby!
She tightens her robe across her chest, self-conscious.
For your information, I had a great time. He was a gentleman—it was a magical evening.
Her mind drifts back to her night, hearing the music, a smile spreading across her face.
And we’re going out again on Friday.
Bobby’s face falls. He tries to hide his disappointment, and says nothing for a second.
BOBBY
Right. Well. Got to get to work.
Lily looks after him as he closes the door behind him. She is surprised to see him leave, cutting their habitual banter short. The kitchen seems quiet now without him.
I snap the play shut.
ME
We don’t need to do this now. I have the whole weekend to prepare.
YOU
Well, now I want to know what happens.
ME
Are you going to audition?
YOU
I was that good?
Silly question, you’re not really one for the limelight.
ME
How about set design?
YOU
Or lighting!
You swivel
my bedside lamp so it shines in my eyes and I squint, dazzled by the bulb, but still giving you my best redcarpet face.