Between You & Me

by Marisa Calin

  ME

  Definitely lighting!

  Laughing, I push the lamp away, startling Holly, who jumps up and darts out the door.

  ME

  Think I’ll make a good actress?

  YOU

  The best!

  I smile. We sit in silence for a few minutes and I tip my cup to let the dregs of my hot chocolate slide down the side. These are the best evenings. I catch sight of the play and feel a pang of excitement. The clock on the landing strikes nine as I’m caught up in a renewed desire to make sure I get this part.

  ME

  Then there’s work to do.

  YOU

  I can take a hint!

  You roll off the bed and pick up your sweater.

  ME

  Night, then.

  You stop at the door and smile—

  YOU

  Night, Lily.

  SCHOOL THEATER DRESSING ROOM. MONDAY AFTERNOON.

  Auditions today, and there are a lot of people here! Crammed into the dressing room backstage, I’m more nervous than I expected, sitting on a makeup table, pulse racing. I’ve been onstage before. I can do this. There’s nervous expectation in the air—maybe it’s all mine. Mia comes in and everyone falls quiet.

  MIA

  Thanks, everyone, for coming. Just give it your best and commit to the moment.

  She says that like it’s her mantra, and then pins up the sheet of paper she’s holding. She glances in my direction as she reaches the door. I meet her eyes and know I’m up first.

  MIA

  The first pair when you’re ready.

  Less time to get nervous I rationalize as I stand up. Everyone’s vying for a look at the list. She’s paired me with Zach, a senior. I recognize him from the play last year. I smile in his direction as we head together into the theater.

  THEATER. MOMENTS LATER.

  Standing onstage next to Zach, I look out at the theater, empty except for Mia in the third row. She asks for the first scene. I head upstage, evoking every emotion I’ve ever felt for a guy, coupled with this strange need I have to please Mia. The theater falls quiet …

  … I hear the jazz on the record player, twirl a strand of hair around my finger and smooth it behind my ear. I run my finger over my lower lip, tilting my head to look at my reflection in the mirror. Nerves and excitement pulse through me, sending jitters to the tips of my toes as I smooth my hands down over my skirt. It’s here—the night I have always dreamed of, imagined every time I’ve closed my eyes. It’s really going to happen. I’m making finishing touches to my hair and—the bell—he’s really here. Am I ready? Taking a last look at my dress, pleased with how it shapes my figure, I dance down the steps to the kitchen and Bobby—trust Bobby to be here! He stares up at me but, realizing that he’s seeing me at my best, I don’t mind so much. He asks where I’m going and, as I cross to the door, I hide my smile, liking that he wants to know and thinking that maybe I want to tell him. Because tonight I’m going to be the belle of the ball and everyone will be looking …

  MIA

  Thank you.

  Mia smiles. And that’s it!

  We step down offstage as Kate pushes through the backstage curtain. Paired with Gabe, another senior, she doesn’t even seem nervous. Behind the curtain, I let Zach go on ahead and take my time returning to the dressing room. I turn back in the wings and stand quietly for a moment in the dark. I can’t see but I can hear Mia’s voice and then Kate. She sounds so real onstage, like herself. She’s good—I’m newly intimidated. Before the scene ends I slip quietly away and for the first time entertain the real possibility that it won’t be me spending time with Mia.

  SCHOOL HALLWAY. THE NEXT DAY.

  We’re being funneled down the hall with everyone else. Mia said she would post the cast list at lunch. Seeing a cluster of students at the notice board ahead, we speed up and join the cluster like sheep. The list must finally be there. It’s all I’ve thought about. We’re on tiptoes at the edge of the pack.

  ME

  Can you see?

  YOU

  Not yet.

  We shuffle to the front as people peel off to the sides. I can see the top of the board:

  CAST LIST

  Everyone is still chattering as they mingle into the crowd. Then there is space and when people stop jostling me, I can see names. At the top, it says “Lily.” And beside Lily: Me. Elated, I can’t stop smiling. You put your arm around my shoulders and squeeze me to you.

  YOU

  Congratulations, hotshot.

  Yes. I’m a hotshot.

  PEELE’S. AFTER SCHOOL.

  You said we should celebrate, so here we are! If Peele’s isn’t a celebration, I don’t know what is. I floated here on a cloud and you’ve sweetly kept up with my excitement for the last half hour. I swirl my spoon around in the cup again, and giddily set it back in the saucer.

  ME

  Can you believe it?

  YOU

  Yep.

  ME

  Can you? I can’t. I can’t believe it.

  I knew I could get the part, I’m just so relieved it’s happened. I take a sip of my tea.

  YOU

  Jasmine tea. Never seen you get that before.

  ME

  No?

  Today, I’m not sure I even care if you remember when we last came across it. You eye me carefully.

  YOU

  Nice?

  ME

  Delish.

  YOU

  Really?

  ME

  Yep.

  YOU

  You don’t like it, do you?

  ME

  Nope. Tastes like a flower bed.

  You laugh, shaking your head despairingly.

  YOU

  Not your cup of tea.

  I roll my eyes and give you a token ha-ha before laughing genuinely into my muffin, loving life, but not jasmine tea, and remembering my reason to be happy.

  MY BEDROOM. THAT NIGHT.

  Hands behind my head, I lie contentedly in bed. It’s better to be me right now than it ever has been before. I can’t bring myself to close my eyes, to shut out the rosy hue that my new world has. Light shines through the gap in the curtains so I can still see the shape of the play on the bedside table beside me. My new sense of purpose is keeping me awake. I’ve been given time with Mia, glorious time that will be mine and hers, mine to be visible to her, earn her respect. When I let my eyes close, I can picture the lights and the stage, and the curtain call at the end of it all. I feel the rush, her eyes on me as I earn her approval. Maybe this is how I’ll find a way to be happy being me.

  THEATER. FIRST DAY OF REHEARSAL. AFTER SCHOOL.

  I’m the first to arrive in the theater and I stare up at the lights feeling today like this is my place. This is where I’ll prove myself. The rest of the cast is gradually assembling and I look around at the faces with a sense of belonging. Come in character, Mia said. I smile at Kate. She’s playing Penny. Penny doesn’t smile back. Gabe sits next to me; he’s been cast as Bobby. I spare him a second glance. He looks strong and boyish, not like a theater type. I’ve seen him around and figured he was all about sports—the kind of guy who calls you “babe.” He catches me looking and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. He smiles and, close up, I see softness in his eyes. It’s surprisingly disarming. His eyes stay on me but I’m not sure if he’s looking at me or Lily so my blush is genuine. Zach strolls in at the last minute and sits by Kate. He’s playing Michael, Lily’s perfect date. He gives me a friendly nod as Mia takes her usual perch on the front of the stage.

  MIA

  So! We’ll start at the beginning. The beginning for your character isn’t the first scene, or the moment before the first scene. It’s every moment in their lives up until the first scene. Know your character’s history. Something I love to do is write a journal in character. Try to think like they do so you can fully inhabit their responses.

  We start by introducing ourselves in character. I feel
self-conscious but then Lily is too, so I embrace it. Mia calls us up to start the rehearsal. Purpose, I think as I get up onstage. I am Lily. I’m seventeen. I want to fit in.

  Scene one goes smoothly enough, as I know it by heart. Gabe feels really real and present onstage, which makes him easy to respond to. I get caught up for a second in scene two, remembering our read-through in my bedroom. You put your name in for doing lights, so I know you’re somewhere up at the control board, sitting in on the first rehearsal to get a feel for the play.

  For the third scene, Sarah, a senior, steps up onstage. She’s playing my mother and has embraced the role wholeheartedly. She’s been in character from the moment she arrived today and even now takes her place as if it really is her house. Lily is ready for her second date with Michael:

  THE PRICE HOUSE. FRIDAY NIGHT.

  Lily stands on tiptoes at the kitchen window and watches for headlights in the driveway. She wears her best dress tonight—Michael is taking her somewhere special. He’s not here yet, he must have been held up. Her mom finishes setting the table.

  MOM

  Remember, honey. Don’t stay out too late.

  LILY

  Mom, I’m seventeen. Everyone stays out late.

  MOM

  All right. But that doesn’t mean you have to.

  Lily glances at the clock again. It’s after seven. He should be here by now. Her dancing shoes are already hurting her feet.

  Spotlight on the kitchen wall clock. The hands roll forward. An hour passes.

  Lily, still in her dress, sits on the kitchen step, sobbing. She lifts her hands to wipe her eyes but she is wearing her new gloves—she doesn’t want to spoil them. She pulls them off and wipes the back of her hand across her cheek like a child. Her mother comes over and sits down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

  MOM

  I’m sure he just got held up, that’s all. There’ll be other nights.

  LILY

  (Between sobs)

  No, there won’t, Mom, I know it’s not that. I’m not good enough for him! He’s decided that it won’t do to be seen about with me. He wants one of those rich girls. Everyone says so!

  MOM

  Oh, that can’t be true, he’d be lucky to have someone as special as you.

  LILY

  It is true. He was just biding his time with me till someone better came along. Bet you anything he’s out with someone else right now.

  Lily takes off her jewelry.

  They spend all their time at some girl’s pool house. They’re always talking about it. And they never invite me.

  MOM

  Well, how about I make you something to eat and we’ll just wait and see if he stops by to make his apologies.

  LILY

  He’s not coming, and I’m not hungry.

  Lily stands up and kicks off her shoes.

  I wish I’d been born someone else—

  She takes the stairs to her room two at a time and flops face-first onto her bed, covering her head with the pillow.

  Energized, the first rehearsal at an end, I watch everyone flocking out of the theater and stay behind with Mia. My intention: to sound casual.

  ME

  Mia—

  I’m almost touching her shoulder as she turns.

  —Thanks so much for giving me the part.

  She smiles.

  MIA

  You deserved it.

  ME

  Really?

  She nods warmly.

  MIA

  When I look at you onstage, I see someone trying to deal bravely with emotions. That can be a lot more sympathetic than watching a person indulge them.

  She picks up her file and we start together toward the doors. I’m glowing with the compliment.

  You’ve seen movies where if you have to watch a minute more of a girl sobbing you’re gonna throw your popcorn at the screen, right?

  I laugh. She breaks into an impression of indulgent crying, shaking with sobs. I chime in and she chokes through her pretend tears:

  MIA

  I’m so sad. And I’m such a good actor.

  My crying becomes laughing and so does hers. She shakes her head.

  Give me trying not to cry and a quivering lip any day.

  ME

  Not too quivery!

  MIA

  God no! Never too quivery. Then you’ve almost got pretty-girl crying. And that’s worse.

  ME

  Way worse!

  We start pretty-girl-crying impressions, passing a few staring eighth graders in the hall.

  Must not make a wrinkle.

  MIA

  Must not look ugly.

  This ends in a similar way and it may be the best feeling I’ve ever had. She sighs.

  If you’re going to cry, there’s an “I can’t help it, creased-up face” happy medium.

  She’s still pretty, whatever her expression.

  Ultimately, it just needs to be real.

  We’ve reached the staff room. I feel like I’ve walked her home after a date. She turns squarely to me.

  MIA

  Never get overdramatic on me, Phy, and we’ll be fine.

  I quiver my lip and don’t blink in the hope of achieving glassy eyes. She laughs again, heartily. I start walking away before she pushes open the door, not to outstay the moment—so that when I turn and wave over my shoulder, she’s still looking.

  SCHOOL LAWN. LUNCH.

  There’s a warm spell and I’m sitting on the lawn, carefully situated where I know Mia walks by on her way to her seventh-grade class after lunch. With the glimmer of a new friendship, I’m even more excited to see her than usual. I have one knee curled up and the other stretched out, running my toes through the grass. Open on my knee is my copy of the play. No coincidence. I’ve planned, in the cool glow of early afternoon sun, for Mia to come along and see my thoughtful dedication. The coolness of the sun has taken me by surprise. Part of my plan was the emerald halter top I’m wearing but the day is not as warm as it looked. Sitting still for half an hour can make even a warm day feel cold and this sun is misleading. My bare shoulders still have their summer tan but goose bumps ruin the effect. I tuck up my knee, trying to look warm and relaxed, and focus on the play. So far, I’ve read the same paragraph eight times and I still don’t know what it says. I can hear the words in my head but they have no meaning. My peripheral vision is working far too hard to allow for concentration. I am making an arc in the grass with my foot, and pluck a buttercup between my toes when I see Mia at the start of the path. I return self-consciously to the script and only look up again when I think she will be nearer. She has cut across the far side of the lawn and smiles when she sees me looking. She waves and keeps on walking. I paste on a smile. She is too far away to see that it’s a glassy attempt to hide mortification. Maybe I looked too studious to be disturbed. I stare at the same paragraph, now not only cold but also without the will to warm up. When I find the energy to move, I pick up my bag and start back toward school to get ready for class.

  HALLWAY. SOON AFTER.

  You’re heading toward me with a smile.

  YOU

  Hey. You look cold.

  ME

  That’s because I am.

  YOU

  Where were you?

  ME

  Reading.

  You peer at me quizzically as if you’d like to know more but can tell you shouldn’t ask.

  YOU

  Mia was looking for you.

  I stop in my tracks.

  ME

  What? But I just saw her. Kind of. She didn’t say anything.

  YOU

  Oh. She ended up talking to Kate, I think. Don’t worry, it was just about needing someone to post the rehearsal schedule or something.

  I almost laugh, overcome with the urge to slam something against a locker.