Inevitable and Only

by Lisa Rosinsky

  Because that’s what was happening, and we all knew it. After the curtain came down, we’d never be able to perform this play again. Not even if we gathered all the same people together and wore all the same costumes and recited all the same lines. The momentum came to a halt with that last round of applause, and even if we tried to re-create this production someday, it would never be the same. We would never be the same cast we were today on this stage.

  Way to be a faucet-face like Dad, I told myself, trying to keep my eyes dry. Rina was taking her curtain call and the audience was cheering. She bowed, spun around, and did a cartwheel off into the wings. Then it was time for Benedick and Beatrice’s curtain call. Zephyr grabbed my hand and we ran out onstage. The audience erupted for us. We took a bow, then another. Then he released my hand and I thought, Well, now it’s really over.

  As I followed him off stage, I wondered if he’d even come to the cast party tonight. He didn’t seem to like big groups of people.

  I made my way out to the lobby, where all the Woodburys, plus Max, were waiting. Mom, Dad, and Josh were right next to them. I didn’t see Elizabeth—maybe she hadn’t come.

  “That was pretty cool,” Josh mumbled, brushing the curls off his forehead and smiling at me. “You kicked butt.” And from Josh, that was a full-blast marching band of a compliment. I grinned back and pulled him in for a hug until he squirmed.

  “Oh, Cadie,” Mom said. “You were wonderful. I wish I’d been able to see it more than once.” She hesitated. “I wish … well, not that it matters now.”

  I hugged her, too. “It’s fine, Mom. Really.”

  She held me a moment, stroking my hair. I’d forgotten what a great hugger Mom was.

  Then she cleared her throat, pulled out a to-do list, and started spouting last-minute reminders: “Now, let’s see. Don’t forget to turn down the heat when you all go over to the Woodburys’ tonight. But not all the way off, the pipes will freeze.”

  “Mom!” I said. “I know. Go on vacation. Everything will be fine.”

  Dad looked at his watch. “We were supposed to leave for the airport seven minutes ago, honey.”

  “Right,” she said, and gave me another big hug. “Mija, you were incredible, absolutely incredible. Be good. Call us if you need anything. We’ll have our cell phones on whenever we have a signal.”

  She aimed a final hug and kiss at Josh, who ducked.

  “We won’t call you, Mom,” I said. Not making eye contact with Dad. “We’ll be fine. You should go forget about the outside world for a while. Besides, I think national parks have a ban on cell phones these days, or something.”

  “Okay,” Mom said, taking a deep breath. “Well, see you next weekend, then.” They were flying back just in time for Josh’s competition on Sunday afternoon.

  Dad finally gave me a hug, too, and slipped something into my hand—a thin envelope. “Read that later,” he said, and then before I had a chance to figure out what to say, they were gone.

  Ruby and Renata took Josh home with them. I’d told them I wanted to hang out with the cast for a while and Elizabeth would drive us over later—she had her provisional license now, which meant she could drive family members. Mom and Dad had taken a cab to the airport and left us the Comet in case we needed to go somewhere.

  “I still can’t believe no one’s figured this out yet,” I whispered to Raven and Max, even though all the parents were already gone.

  “Don’t sound so fatalistic,” said Raven. “It’s going to be fine.”

  She and Max were coming to the cast party—even though they weren’t involved in the play. “You have to come!” I’d told them. “I don’t know how to throw a party! I don’t even want to be throwing a party! Heron and Micayla already volunteered to be bouncers.”

  Raven had rolled her eyes at me. “Seriously, Cadie, it’s a group of Quaker high school drama nerds. How much trouble can they really cause?”

  I went backstage to pack up my makeup and clothes. We were all coming back to strike the set Monday night, but Micayla, who was going to take me home, was still busy collecting and putting away costumes. So I figured I’d clean up my space in the dressing room while I was waiting for her.

  First, though, I sat in a chair at the dressing room mirror and opened Dad’s note. All the other girls in the cast were still out in the lobby, hugging each other and crying, or talking to their friends and families, so I had the dressing room to myself.

  Cadiest, the note began, and I had to swallow a lump that rose suddenly in my throat.

  Cadiest,

  First of all, I want to say in writing how unbelievably proud of you I am. I cried at every single performance. As I’m sure you could’ve guessed. My baby girl has grown into a talented young woman who can become anyone she wants on stage, who can spout poetry, who can make a grown man weep. How did that happen???

  But that’s not why I wrote this note, really. I want to say this in writing, too: I hate the way things have been between me and you these past few months. I know you’re angry. I understand why. But I still can’t stand it. When Mom and I come back, can we do something about it? I think we’re long overdue for some quality Dad-Cadie time. We can go down to DC to see a play, just me and you. Or we can have a day in the Inner Harbor. Or—anything you want. Just tell me how to fix things. Please. I miss you.

  Love,

  Dad

  P.S. I don’t know how much it matters, because things are the way they are, but I’m so sorry, Cadie. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry that something I did a long time ago has turned your world upside down. I’m sorry I’m not the dad you thought I was.

  I sat there in front of my mirror and stared at it without seeing my reflection, clutching Dad’s note in both hands.

  The dressing room door banged open, and Tori, Rina, Kieri, and Priya came in, talking loudly. It was a good thing everyone was so emotional after the last show, because no one bothered me to ask why I had tears running down my face.

  After Micayla dropped me off on her way home, I ran upstairs to change. It was five o’clock. I had two hours to—well, do whatever you were supposed to do to get ready for a cast party.

  I opened the door to my room, and almost had a heart attack. The place looked ransacked. “Oh my god, what happened?” I said out loud.

  Elizabeth stuck her head out of the closet, which nearly gave me a second coronary arrest. “Hi,” she said flatly. “I’m just packing.”

  I clutched at my chest and crossed the room to sit on my bed. “I didn’t realize you were here. Sorry. Wait, packing for what?”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “For our week at the Woodburys’ house.”

  I surveyed the wreckage. “You’re bringing all these clothes?”

  She shrugged. “Figured I’d clean out my side of the closet while I was at it. Reorganize.”

  “Okay …” I realized I hadn’t said anything to Elizabeth about the cast party. I’d assumed she’d drive me to Raven’s, but hadn’t spoken to her about tonight at all. Hadn’t even remembered that she’d be here, too. Unless I managed to get her out of the house somehow. “Um,” I said. “What are you doing tonight? Are you going out with Farhan or anything?”

  “No.” She had her back to me, studying the few items left on her side of the closet. Then she ripped everything off the hangers and tossed it all on the bed.

  “Okay,” I said again. “Well. Um. I’m sort of, um, having some friends over.”

  “Oh?” She didn’t sound interested.

  “Yeah. Drama friends. It’s sort of, um, a cast party.”

  Elizabeth spun around to face me, her eyes wide. “A party? Without Ross and Melissa here? They were okay with that?”

  I squirmed. “It kind of happened without—I didn’t mean to invite—well, Mom and Dad don’t know.”

  She studied my face for a minute. Then she shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll probably just stay up here and clean.”

  I let out my breath. “Sure, that’s
fine. If you want. I mean, or feel free to hang out downstairs if you want to.”

  She nodded, then started folding and sorting the clothes in the heap on her bed.

  I sat there for another moment or two, but she didn’t look at me or say anything else. So I got up and stuffed a few things into my overnight bag, then changed into a pair of leggings and my unicorn hoodie dress. It made my curves look good—not too wide, not too jiggly—plus it was good luck. And I was going to need all the luck I could get tonight.

  Then I went downstairs to cast-party-proof the house.

  Micayla and Heron pulled up in Micayla’s car, with Raven and Max in the back seat. “We’re here early to help you set up!” said Raven, jumping out of the car and hefting two enormous shopping bags of what looked like chips, salsa, and soda bottles out of the trunk. Max followed her and grabbed two more bags. Heron and Micayla had also brought bags of food plus paper plates and red plastic Solo cups.

  Great. I was having a Solo-cup party.

  And then Sam Shotwell arrived, with Rina, Tori, Kieri, Priya, and an armload of six-packs. Yes, the kind with beer in them. Troy and Davis followed, bearing a bottle of vodka each, and before I knew it there was a full-scale party under way. People were draped over the couches, perched on the kitchen counter, leaning against all the walls. Someone, probably Troy or Davis, had set up a portable speaker in the living room and music was blasting. I heard voices from the basement, so I knew the party had spilled downstairs, too. Where had all these kids come from? Someone must have invited non–cast members. It seemed like every time I turned around, I saw someone new.

  Sam Shotwell had set up a beer pong game on the coffee table, and a couple guys I didn’t recognize were playing. How had I ever thought Sam was cute? He was such an oaf.

  I jumped at the sound of something going crash and hurried toward the kitchen.

  “Relax, a cooler got knocked over,” said Micayla, coming up behind me. “It was empty. No one’s broken anything yet.” She held out a plate of chips and salsa. “Hungry?”

  I took a chip. “Not really.”

  “Aww, come on,” she said. “Have a little fun. It’s your party, after all.”

  “I just want everyone to leave before something horrible happens …”

  “Here.” She shoved a Solo cup under my nose.

  I took it, suspiciously. “What’s in this?”

  She tsked at me. “Hey, have a little faith. It’s a root beer float. I brought three quarts of vanilla, chocolate, and mocha swirl from the Charmery.”

  “I love you,” I said, glugging it.

  “Okay, I’m going to hang out with Troy for a bit, see if he’s as boring as the last time I actually talked to him.”

  “Ha,” I said.

  Micayla sighed. “Go try and have some fun. For real. I’ve got a plan—I’m hiding the beer can by can, when no one’s looking, stashing it all under the kitchen sink. Bet I can dry this crowd out of here in an hour. Ninety minutes tops.”

  “Godspeed,” I said, and drifted out onto the back porch.

  Someone was already there. He turned at the sound of the door shutting behind me, and I was surprised to see that it was Zephyr.

  “Hey,” I said. “Fancy finding you out here.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” It was almost dark, but I could see him smiling in the light spilling from the kitchen window.

  “Just—you don’t seem like the social type.”

  He shrugged. “Depends who the company is, I guess.”

  “Oh, so you’re a snob? Is that what you’re saying?”

  He laughed. “It’s okay to drop the whole Beatrice thing now, you know.”

  Somehow I didn’t feel like laughing. “Yeah. I wish …” I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

  “Hmm?” he prompted. “Wish what?”

  I sighed. “That it wasn’t over.”

  He didn’t say anything, so I went on. “It all went by so quick, you know? Feels like the auditions were just yesterday.”

  “I know,” he said.

  I went to the porch railing and leaned my elbows on it, looked up at the sky. A phrase came into my head. “Inevitable and only.”

  “What?” Zephyr leaned closer to me.

  “That thing Robin’s always telling us—oh my god, I mean, your dad—Robin, your dad.” I laughed a little. “That’s still so weird. It’s amazing. And it seems, I don’t know, right. But also very, very weird.” I almost felt like I was drunk, too, even though all I’d had was Micayla’s root beer float. It was a mixture of the chilly woodsmoke-scented air and the warmth of Zephyr standing so close to me I could feel his body heat. And it was all the feelings tumbling around inside me—feelings about Dad’s note, about the play being over, about Elizabeth. Words were tumbling out, and I was too tired to try to stop them.

  “Inevitable and only,” I repeated. “Remember? How if you’re really listening, there’s only one true response to each cue, and that’s the line that’s written for you to say. Maybe that’s like life, too.”

  “That’s bullshit,” said Zephyr abruptly, and I looked at him, startled out of my trance. “Sorry,” he said, “it’s just—I know how much you like my dad, and yeah, he’s a great teacher, a great director. He’s a great dad, too. But he’s so frustrating sometimes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wants me to go to college for theater. Not astrophysics. Thinks I’m throwing away my talent.”

  Something stirred in my memory—Robin muttering Too much talent to waste.

  “He doesn’t get it,” said Zephyr. “I love the stage. I’m just trying to be practical, too. But he gave up everything for the stage—his family, his home—he’s devoted his whole life to it. And I think he takes it personally that I don’t want to follow in his footsteps.”

  “But—I heard that he ran away from home for other reasons—”

  “Yeah, he did. His family sucked, his whole situation was terrible. But still.” Zephyr sighed. “Julian understands. He thinks I’m doing the right thing. I hear them fighting about it sometimes after they think I’ve gone to bed. I hate that I’m driving a wedge between them.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “I get that,” I said softly.

  “I know you do,” he said, just as quietly.

  “Inevitable and only,” I said again, because I wasn’t sure what else to say. I felt like I was stuck on repeat. “Do you really think we get just this one life? This is it, our only shot? And yet it’s all going to end, that’s inevitable—what’s that Macbeth line? ‘Life’s but a walking shadow’—”

  Zephyr finished the quote for me: “‘A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.’”

  “Yeah. We get our time, and then we’re done. I mean, seriously?”

  “No fair,” Zephyr agreed. “No fair at all.”

  “And what about fate?” I said, because I couldn’t seem to stop talking, because he was so warm standing there right next to me. “Is everything we do inevitable, too? What if every action is the only possible continuation of the things we’ve already done? I mean, do we really get any choices about anything? Ever?”

  Zephyr flung his arms up toward the sky, as if gesturing at all the stars and galaxies up there, all the other worlds that weren’t this one. “I think we do. Otherwise, I can’t wrap my head around it all. My brain feels like it’ll explode.”

  And then somehow when he lowered his arms they ended up around my waist, and my hands crept up to his chest, and we were staring at each other in the faint light from the kitchen window. We’d been this close before, on stage, but this felt completely different.

  “I’m glad you came tonight,” I said, trying to dilute the tension. He didn’t respond, just looked at me.

  I tried again. “Zephyr—” But I couldn’t think of anything to say next.

  There was no inevitable and only next line.

  So I kiss
ed him.

  It was nothing like the stage kiss. His mouth was warm, warmer than I could’ve imagined, and it felt alive—not like a thumb, not at all. His lips moved, and then I realized I could let my lips move too, and his mouth was so soft—

  I pulled away.

  He cupped my face with one hand and pulled me back, and we kissed again.

  And then I pulled away again, and ran into the house.

  He had a girlfriend.

  Zephyr had a girlfriend, and I knew that, I’d met her, and I’d kissed him anyway. And he’d let me. But I’d started it.

  I grabbed a blue can off the kitchen counter, popped the tab, and took a swig. Ugh. The warm, bitter beer tore a fizzy path down my esophagus. I chugged more of it. Forced myself to finish the can.

  Zephyr didn’t follow me in off the porch.

  My head spinning, my heart thumping so hard I thought it might crack a rib, I pounded up the stairs to my room. So it turned out I was the daughter who was most like Dad after all. Deep down, where it mattered. You’re the one who’s indifferent to betrayal. Just like Dad.

  Dizzy and nauseated, I flung open the door of my room.

  Elizabeth leaped off her bed with a little scream.

  Leaped away from the person lying on the bed next to her, shirt half-unbuttoned. Who’d been holding her when I’d walked in, their limbs intertwined. Who was now sitting up and fumbling with buttons, wiping a hand across her mouth.

  Yes, her mouth.

  The person who had been making out with Elizabeth on her bed was not Farhan. It was Heron Lang.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Micayla was right—after the alcohol disappeared, the party shriveled. She and Raven stayed to help me clean things up. I wasn’t sure what had happened to Heron. After I opened the door on her and Elizabeth, I ran back down the stairs and popped the top off a second beer. Micayla raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. I curled up on the floor behind the kitchen counter and hid, my face burning, and drank about half of it, until I couldn’t tell whether my face was still burning or not. I didn’t see Zephyr again—he must’ve left.