Pulled

by Danielle Bannister

  The rest of the pairings aren't much better and I can tell Elizabeth isn’t happy because her scowl grows deeper with each grouping.

  “I’m going to put on some music,” Elizabeth tries, “just move about the space as your character and see what happens. Guys, I’m going to call you up one at a time. Naya, just stay up there and go with the flow.” She hits play and soft piano music fills the small space. It's slow and gentle, easy to move to, but Naya remains stiff.

  “Relax, Naya,” I say, wanting her to feel comfortable.

  Her nostrils flare in aggravation, but then, almost as an act of defiance, she relaxes her posture and starts moving beside Zach. Their pairing is not the least bit romantic, but that doesn't stop me from hating that he's so close to her.

  “Ben, you’re next,” Elizabeth says after a few minutes. Zach kisses the back of Naya’s hand as he exits. I am not amused.

  Big Ben, as I’ve named him, comes up next. If Zach is too short, Ben is too tall. He absolutely towers over her. He's all arms, legs and acne. No. He would not do, no matter how well he moved. They do an okay waltz around the floor but my teeth clench watching his arms tighten around her waist.

  Thankfully, Elizabeth sends Thomas up next, and he is ever the gentleman with her. I pay no attention that he isn’t very good on his feet. The fact that he poses no threat to Naya unless she grows a penis is all that really interests me.

  Eric is last and my hackles are instantly raised. I don’t like this guy. Not his saunter over to her, not his ugly, overpriced Gap sweater, and definitely not his stupid chiseled jaw. I take comfort at Naya’s obvious repulsion to the sleazeball. Her entire body is rigid. Surely Elizabeth will see they have no chemistry. I look over and see Elizabeth leaning her hand on her chin, a small smile creeping onto her lips. She can't seriously be considering this guy? Then something shifts in Elizabeth's face which makes me turn my attention back to the stage.

  Before I can even blink, Eric has moved behind Naya, and is running his hands down her arms. My fists instinctively ball up in defense, but Naya grabs his hands to stop him. Not getting the hint, he whips her around to face him, pinning her hands firmly against his chest. He leans down and plants a deep kiss on her, and I lose it.

  “That’s enough!” I shout, standing up so fast it causes my chair to crash to the floor. Eric looks up at me with a twinkle in his eye, mocking his confusion for Elizabeth's sake.

  “Let’s take five,” Elizabeth says firmly, pulling at my arm. I brush her hand away. A smug grin creeps across Eric's face. Dick. Naya wipes her mouth with the back of her hand in disgust, as he hops off the stage. The others leave behind him. Naya follows last, but before she does, she finds me and gives me a small nod of thanks. Once she’s gone Elizabeth starts in on me.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “He was groping her!” I shout back.

  “Keep your voice down,” she warns. “You are over-reacting. It’s an audition, Etash! He was clearly trying something out, taking a risk. I thought it showed guts.”

  “It was unprofessional,” I mutter.

  “No, what’s unprofessional is you stopping my audition! Let’s not forget who the Director is here,” she fires back.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. It's just…couldn’t you see her struggling to break free from that creep?”

  “No,” she says, calming down. “What I saw was your jealousy.”

  I sigh, hating to admit that she’s right. I grab my chair from off the floor and sink into it.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “There is nothing wrong with you.” Her tone is warm, motherly, which only makes me feel worse. “You’re just fighting something you’re not meant to fight.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Use it, Etash. Use that energy on the stage. I’m begging you. Be her Romeo.”

  She still doesn’t understand.

  “It’s not that easy, Elizabeth.” She pulls out a chair and sits beside me, waiting. “I'm not in control of myself when I'm that close to her. I can’t do that to her,” I whisper.

  She doesn't say anything, because there is nothing to say. She's seen firsthand what Naya does to me. Elizabeth's eyebrows pull together in concentration, trying to problem-solve this mess. The only solution is to stay away from her. Period.

  When she slaps her hands against her thighs, I jump a little.

  “I think I have a compromise,” she says brightly. “I want you to send the guys home until our 6:00 call, and bring Naya in. Would you do that for me?”

  “What’s your compromise, Elizabeth?”

  She stands, lowers her hand down to me and lifts me up as well.

  “We’ll let her pick her Romeo. That way you’ll know that she’s chosen someone she’ll be comfortable with. And if she's comfortable, you should be too.”

  A smile spreads across my face. “That just may work.” She smiles brightly back at me as I head to the door to get Naya.

  Naya

  “Have a seat, Naya,” Elizabeth instructs me after the others have gone home. Obediently, I grab a chair and sit.

  “Naya,” she begins, “I have a problem.” She folds her hands together neatly. “You see, I have two talented actors who have this inexplicable chemistry, but both of them are refusing to use that to their advantage. So, I relented and tried to cast another Romeo. We all know how well that went.”

  I let out an involuntary chuckle, which makes her smile.

  “So, you see…I’m stuck. And I think you can get me unstuck.”

  “Me? I don’t understand?”

  Her eyes narrow, and she leans in closer to me, as though she's about to confide a deep, dark secret.

  “I need you to choose your Romeo,” she says.

  “What?” I look up at Etash who just nods slightly.

  “I need you to pick one of the five guys,” she continues. “I want you to select the man that you’ll feel the most comfortable with. The rationale being that if you pick him, then Etash won’t have such an issue with the whole thing and we can all play nicely together.”

  My brain is racing to keep up, but then something makes me slam on the brakes.

  “There were only four guys here tonight, not five,” I say softly, already painfully aware of where she is going with this.

  “True. The four you saw and Etash.”

  “No! Elizabeth, you can’t do that to her!” Etash hisses from the back of the house.

  Elizabeth unfolds her hands and slowly crosses her legs.

  “Oh. I’d forgotten you were still here,” she says calmly. “You’re free to go now too.”

  He starts to grind his teeth together, knowing he’s been outfoxed.

  “You don’t have to do this, Naya,” Etash says to me.

  “Goodnight, Etash,” Elizabeth smiles firmly.

  Etash rips his bag from the back of his chair and storms out of the theatre, slamming the door behind him. I can feel the vibrations from the door reverberate in my chest as I try to find my voice.

  “So? Who is it going to be?” she asks, tapping her fingers on her knee.

  “I can’t…” She can’t honestly expect me to make this choice.

  “Well, if you won't, then I’ll have to pick Eric,” she says getting up from her chair and pulling out a cell phone.

  “No! Wait. Please, don’t. Please, not Eric!” I plead. I can tell she has me where she wants me as a smile creeps onto her face.

  “Okay. Eric’s out. Who's in, Naya?”

  “I know who you want me to choose…and I just can’t.”

  “Why not?” Her face is wrinkled in confusion. “You two have a magical connection with one another, so why can’t we use that? That’s what we do as actors, Naya. We draw from our own experiences and use it for our characters. I mean, think about it; it was that same pull that drew Romeo and Juliet together.”

  “And what ultimately led them to their deaths,” I mutter.

  Elizabeth sighs then walks
over to me, kneels down and takes my hand in a motherly sort of fashion. I shrink away automatically in response.

  “I’ll keep you safe. I won’t push too far. Let me try and harness this energy you two have and mold it into the best performance of your life. You owe this to yourself as an actress to try. Come out of your safe zone and take some risks. Isn’t that what acting is all about?”

  She's right. That is what acting is about: taking risks. But more importantly, I do owe it to myself. I owe it to my parents. After all, it was their death that has paid for the opportunity to come here in the first place.

  The quiet voice in my head that has been chanting Etash’s name since the day we met won’t be contained any longer. My inner voice pushes aside all of my otherwise rational thoughts, and makes my lips form the sentence I never thought I’d utter.

  “I want Etash.”

  A smile spreads across Elizabeth’s face.

  “You won’t be sorry,” she says patting my hand.

  I can only hope she’s right.

  Etash

  After I've stormed out of the theatre and into the night air, I curse to the heavens. I am completely pissed at Elizabeth. Throwing myself on one of the benches, I stew with anger. How could she do this to me?

  Although I can't hear what Naya is saying inside to Elizabeth, I already know what the outcome will be. Naya's going to pick me, and I will be helpless to refuse her. I realize I'll never be able to deny her anything ever again.

  When she steps outside a few minutes later, I can't bear to look at her.

  “Why?” I hear myself ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says, her voice cracking.

  Standing up, I focus on a line of trees on the horizon and ask a question I’m not sure I want the answer to.

  “Is it not the same for you?”

  I hold my breath as I feel her take a step closer to me.

  “I don't know what's happening,” she says after a moment, “but whatever it is, I can’t let it dictate how I’m going to live my life.” Another step closer. My resolve to keep my eyes off her weakens with every step she takes.

  “I came to this school to act, Etash.” She takes another step closer. It’s getting harder to breathe. “Too much has been sacrificed for me to be here to just…throw it away.”

  She’s right beside me now, and my muscles are in knots, restraining themselves. She’s too close.

  “I’m going to take your hand now,” she whispers.

  My fingers instinctively ball into a fist. No. I can’t touch her. I don't trust myself to be able to let her go.

  “Etash, if we're going to do this, we have to be able to touch each other.”

  “I…I don’t think I can,” I say.

  She takes a deep breath. “I know. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

  “Naya,” I say, starting to protest. I don’t get far, because our hands find their own way, unable to contain their combined need any longer. I don’t even know how my hand has unclenched itself from the iron grip it was in, but it has, and it's now tucked perfectly inside hers.

  I’m overwhelmed with emotion and actually hear myself gasp. Simply holding her hand, I know in my core that she is destined to be with me, and I with her. But I can’t articulate it. I can’t even speak. I am too consumed with the warm, pulsating current of her hand in mine.

  The way they fit together seems only to confirm that this is our destiny, that we were made for each other.

  We sit hand in hand, not speaking for what could have been an eternity before I'm finally able to speak.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her.

  She smiles a big, warm smile at me. “I’m right as rain.”

  Her smile melts my heart, and I laugh lightly. “My Grams says that, although I don't think she has any idea what it means.”

  More silence.

  “So what now?” she asks eventually, stroking the back of my hand so gently with her thumb that I doubt she realizes she's even doing it.

  “Now…I guess we go to rehearsal.”

  And just like that, reality comes crashing down on me. We aren't in some sort of magical world where I'm allowed to touch her whenever I want. We are actors in a play, and nothing more.

  Slowly, we get up from the bench and start to release our interlaced hands. The reaction of the withdrawal is immediate, and causes us both to flinch.

  “Either you need to go ahead of me, or we need to keep holding hands,” I say, waiting for her to go ahead of me. But she doesn’t. She takes my hand again, and the pain retreats as fast as it came.

  “We go in together,” she says.

  “Together,” I repeat, squeezing her hand a little tighter against mine. This girl is going to be the death of me.

  When we walk into the black box, Elizabeth is there, talking to a few of the ensemble dancers who have arrived. She turns in time see us enter. Her eyes look down and notice our hands. One of her eyebrows shoots up to the sky in surprise.

  “It’s just easier this way,” I say, brushing by her.

  “Whatever works,” she says with a huge smile.

  To her credit, Elizabeth uses our newfound ease with one another to her advantage. She makes sure that whenever possible Naya and I are touching, but rips our bodies apart when she wants that certain ‘longing.’ It is both torture and relief mixed together in dance. If we can pull this off, the play will truly be magical.

  At the end of the night, Naya and I walk out of the theatre together, finding 'our' bench without words.

  “Well, that wasn’t too bad,” I say, not wanting to let her go.

  “No. It wasn’t,” she confesses. A small smile creeps onto her lips.

  I’ll have to let her go now. She was only mine for rehearsal and now that it's over, she belongs to someone else.

  “On three?” I say, grinning to try and hide the pain.

  “One…”

  “Two.”

  “Three,” we say together. I slide my hand out of hers and we both grimace. She turns quickly without a word, taking my heart with her.

  Naya

  My body is shouting at me to turn around and go back to him, but I push my feet hard against his pull. He's not yours, Naya, I hiss at myself with each step I take. He's not yours.

  Dutifully, I check in with Seth once I'm home. Thankfully, he seems otherwise occupied by John and the beer run he just made. We say our goodnights and then I collapse into bed, pulling the sheets over my head and cry myself to sleep.

  Morning comes all too soon for my liking, but I crawl out of bed, grateful for the weekend. Maybe a few days away from Etash is all I need to pull myself together.

  After I down a Pop Tart, I make my obligatory call to Harold and Tina and begrudgingly take care of the ‘bill’ issue. I tell them about my first week of college, and they feign interest in all of the right places.

  Although I would never admit to their faces how much their waning interest in me hurts, I know I’ll grant them their wish soon enough. As I hang up, I silently resolve to make my calls to them less and less frequent.

  In the shower I try to wash away some of their rejection, but the hot water feels like shards of glass against my back, which still hasn't healed over enough to take on the assault of the pelting drops for more than a moment at a time. Gingerly, I put my robe on and head back to my room to bury myself in homework.

  I have just finished reading a section on how to use a stipple sponge for make-up class when there is a knock on my door. Startled, I jump up from my bed to answer it.

  As I pull open the door, I see Seth frowning at me.

  “You're not dressed yet?” He scratches the back of his head, then gives me a quick peck on the cheek. I'm surprised by how wrong it feels.

  “Just give me a second to throw some clothes on.” I shut the door behind him as he walks in and plops down on my bed, causing some of my books to bounce to the floor. He doesn't bother to pick them up.

  I walk over to my closet and pull
on some jeans and a light blue sweater.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” I say, slapping an elastic around my hair. “Are we going to lunch? I'm really craving some of the cafeteria's macaroni and cheese.”

  He walks over to me and yanks the elastic out of my hair; the strands fall over my slightly bruised face. Right. I'm still not presentable yet.

  “I’m sorry, but cafeteria food is not on our agenda.” Seth says, giving me an evil grin.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. He laughs at my dark expression.

  “You’ll see.” He takes my hand and leads me out of my room. Once we get into his car, which he has parked in a handicap spot, we drive for about thirty minutes before Seth pulls into the parking lot of a store I've never been into before. One look at the elegant dresses in the shop’s window is a clear indication of why I would never have a need to step inside.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “This is a store,” he says, making a grand gesture with his hands to the door.

  I glare at him. “I know it’s a store. Why are we parked in front of it?”

  “Because, my beautiful girl, it's our anniversary and I’m taking you to a super fancy restaurant tonight.” Crap. It is our anniversary. How did I forget that? “And as much as I love your sexy jeans,” he continues, “they just wouldn’t do for tonight. So, we’re here to get some new duds.”

  “Seth, my trust fund doesn’t really allow for this type of spending…” I begin.

  “Relax. You’re not spending a dime. This one’s on me,” he replies. He jumps out of the car and is opening my door before I can protest any further.

  Thankfully, we are the only ones in the store, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like the ugly duckling surrounded by swans. The store clerk seems peeved with us until Seth whips out his gold card, then she is all too eager to help.

  After trying on what seems like a hundred dresses, we finally agree on the simple beaded, high-backed black dress that will hide my unhealed lash marks. Seth picks out a handsome dark gray suit that hangs perfectly against his broad shoulders. Although he’s dashing in the suit, I can’t help thinking about tattered jeans and bare feet.