Love on the Sound

by Matthews, Jamie

  He settled down in the front row of the auditorium, sipping his coffee and reading the script of Phantom Tollbooth—luckily Jonah had left behind his director’s copy with his notes in the margin about blocking, a few lines edited here and there. Time passed quickly and before he knew it, the door to the auditorium squeaked open on rusty hinges.

  “Hellooo!”

  Ben swiveled and waved at the woman making her way down the aisle. In her mid-sixties, with the close cropped silver hair that so many women her age favored, she wore beat up jeans, green gardening clogs and a chunky cable knit sweater. She unloaded a giant floral printed bag onto the seat next to him.

  “Mr. Morrison.” She held out a hand to shake. “I’m Lindsey Alston. Social studies teacher.”

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Ben said. “I’m a little out of my league here.”

  She let out a laugh. “I doubt that. If you can handle an Oscar-nominated film you can surely handle our little community children’s play. I’m just here to help keep the kids in line if they give you any trouble.”

  With that, she took a seat and drew a ball of yarn and knitting needles out of her bag, just as the door slammed open, and two kids barreled down the aisle. The first, a tall, gangly boy with shaggy red hair and freckles who looked to be about 15, skidded to a halt when he saw Ben. A shorter boy with the same shade of red hair—his younger brother, Ben guessed, ran right into him, and both boys collapsed into a heap at Ben’s feet.

  “Jeremy, watch it!” The older boy shoved the younger off him with a grunt.

  “You watch it!” Jeremy yelled at the top of his lungs, shoving his brother right back.

  Ben hid a smile, and Lindsey just looked over from her seat. “Boys.”

  The sharp command had both boys separating and shuffling to their feet, although they still shot glares at one another.

  “Hi,” Ben said easily. “I’m Ben. I stopped by a few weeks ago.”

  “We know,” whispered the younger boy, who Ben guessed was around 10. “You’re North Laue!”

  “Nah. I’m just Ben. Just like you’re not really…” Ben skimmed through the notes, took a guess. “Young Azaz.”

  “Yeah!” Jeremy grinned. “This is my brother, David.”

  “I’m Tock,” the older boy informed him. “Where’s Jonah?”

  “He had to leave for a while to go see his mom. She’s sick, but she’ll be okay,” Ben explained. “I’m going to step in as director until he gets back.”

  The boys shot a quick glance at each other, deadly animosity seemingly forgotten. “Cool!” they both said in unison.

  Kids began streaming in, and Ben greeted them one by one, had them all gather on stage. He began taking mental notes on personalities, a habit he’d developed from the first day of shooting a new film, and one that had always served him well. Tock was the second biggest part in the play, and David, while short-fused when dealing with his brother, appeared to be easy going, and as one of the older kids, filled a natural mentor and leader role. Nathan, a 15-year-old with shoulder length dark hair, a long, narrow face, and sharp green eyes, played Milo, the main character. While most of the kids sported jeans and hoodies, Nathan was decked out in what Ben thought as “goth lite”—black jeans, a ripped heavy metal t-shirt, clunky boots and a nose ring. Ben remembered him from his first visit to the theater and concurred with Jonah’s assessment—talented, serious about art and drama, impatient with the limitations of small-town theater. While polite and respectful, Nathan wasn’t as starstruck as the other kids, and Ben figured that Nathan dismissed him as a sell out. It was what Ben himself would have thought at 15.

  About 20 kids gathered on the stage, and the noise level reached astounding heights. Ben asked Lindsey to keep an eye on things while he pulled Nathan and David backstage.

  “You guys are the oldest ones here, right?” When both kids nodded, he continued, “I know you’re both busy with your roles, but I’m going to ask you to help me out. Jonah had to leave in a hurry, and he left great notes, but I’ll need help with names, some of the blocking and the routine. You could say you’ll be like the assistant directors.”

  David didn’t seem fazed by this, but Nathan perked up a bit, and Ben figured he’d made the right choice to involve him more.

  “Now, does it look like everyone’s here?”

  The boys checked out the stage, did a quick headcount and nodded. “All right.” Ben took a deep breath. “Let’s get started.”

  He had the kids sit in giant circle around the stage and asked everyone to introduce themselves one by one and state what character they played. Just like he did at the first read on a film, he took quick notes of names and characters and jotted first impressions that would help him remember everyone. He cracked a few jokes to put them at ease—kids were much easier to get to laugh than jaded L.A. actors, he discovered, and enjoyed the riotous giggles.

  “David, I know you all know the rules but repeat them for me, so I can make sure to follow them,” he said solemnly and got a few giggles from the youngest cast members.

  When David had finished, Ben nodded. “Those are pretty tough, but I’ll try to control myself. If I’m talking out of turn, you guys need to rein me in. And, sheesh, I better study hard if I want to remember my lines.”

  “You don’t have any lines!” shrieked the adorable little girl who played one of the princesses, her long brown hair tumbling in loose curls to her shoulders. She giggled, and the other kids joined in.

  Ben smacked his head. “Oh, right, I’m the director. Here’s what I want you to do. Nathan, do you guys do warm up stretches?”

  When Nathan nodded, Ben jumped to his feet. “Great. Nathan, you lead the group. David, come with me.”

  Looking surprised, but also excited, Nathan stood up and began leading the group. Ben listened with half an ear while he had David show him where the supplies were stored. It took Nathan a few minutes, but he settled into his role soon enough, and by the time Ben and David returned with some rags and polish, the cast was working smoothly together on their stretches.

  “Now we’re going to get the wiggles out,” Ben instructed. “And, polish up the stage at the same time.”

  He and David passed out rags dipped with a little polish, while Ben told the kids they would “skate” on the rags, pushing them around the stage. He found the stereo, and plugged in his iPhone, selecting “Born to be Wild.” He joined the kids on stage as the song began to play. After they got the hang of it, he mixed it up, having them move like they were old, like they were lions, like they were excited, like they were afraid. Then he called on other kids to pick a movement style. Since Phantom Tollbooth was largely a musical, he finished by turning off the music and having them sing the scales a cappella as they slowly slid back and forth across the stage.

  By the time he was done, the kids were warmed up, both physically and also creatively, while the stage gleamed. They were scheduled to rehearse the scene where Milo arrives in the Doldrums. Previously, Milo, a bored, whiny little shit, as Ben thought of the character, was visited by three demons who bestowed him with the Phantom Tollbooth, which takes him to this strange land. In the Doldroms, thinking and laughing are outlawed, and the inhabitants do nothing but eat, nap and procrastinate. Here Milo meets the watchdog Tock, who tells him the story of a troubled kingdom named Dictionopolis. The whole play was a love letter about the joys of words, math and learning—a great play to engage kids with school. But, it ran the danger of being cheesy if not pulled off right. And, Ben mused as the kids took their places, a lot of the wordplay and themes went right over the younger kids’ heads. Jonah had made some changes to the dialogue to simplify it for the younger actors, but he’d confessed that sometimes the older ones weren’t as engaged as they could be.

  Ben sat back as the kids made their way through their lines, making notes about blocking. Lindsey had set aside her knitting and worked on scenery and other set pieces with the kids who weren’t in the scene. Ben let the ki
ds run through the scene once before he gave some quick notes to all of them. He let them loose for a bathroom and snack break and pulled Nathan aside.

  “I’ve got some notes just for you,” Ben explained, leading him to one of the back rows where they could talk undisturbed.

  “Okay.”

  Undoubtedly, Nathan thought the slightly bored expression he’d painted on was the perfect poker face, and it actually wasn’t too bad. But, Ben was used to seeing past the façade—hell, no one in Hollywood was who they appeared to be. He could read the thoughts running through Nathan’s head as if he was projecting them on a billboard. On one hand, Ben was an experienced actor who’d actually been in films and nominated for an Oscar, so his advice and feedback were valuable. On the other hand, he’d been in a string of lousy films the last few years and clearly had thrown his career and artistic integrity down the toilet, so he’d just been in it for the money all along and only been successful thanks to talented supporting actors and directors. Instead of feeling insulted, Ben just felt amused…and old.

  “You’ll need a pencil,” Ben informed the boy, handing him one. “Take notes on the script.” Rapid fire, he ran through minute blocking changes, giving quick explanations of why he was making the changes, which were sometimes as slight as turning his body another ten degrees to the left to be better visible to the audience. When he finished, Nathan looked a little dazed.

  “I’m giving you detailed notes because I think you’re talented.” Ben set his script and notes down for a minute, looking Nathan straight in the eye. “I can guess what you think of me, a mainstream, seemingly alcoholic sell out.”

  The teen had the grace to flush. Ben grinned reassuringly.

  “It’s okay. I was trained at NYU, and while I studied the Method, Stanislavski, Adler, and all that, I primarily use the Meisner technique. I earned my chops acting during the summer in off-off Broadway plays, and even spent one summer at Chicago Second City doing improv.”

  Ben saw dawning light in Nathan’s eyes—he’d rattled off a few more obscure techniques to see if the kid knew what they were, and the fact that he did reinforced Ben’s belief that there was talent here.

  “So,” Ben continued. “We’ve established I know what I’m talking about. Jonah has done a hell of a job with you kids, so this isn’t any knock on him. But, he doesn’t have the experience I do. So, make use of my time here. Pick my brain. If I seem hard on you, or if I give you more notes than anyone else, it isn’t because you’re doing a bad job. It’s because I want you to learn and grow. Questions?”

  Nathan was quiet a minute, and then he smiled, a bit shyly. “What was it like working with DeNiro?”

  Ben laughed. “Fantastic. But, that’s for another day. My main note for you is that you’re playing Milo too dumb. I know he seems dumb because anyone who’s bored with life and learning has to be dumb, right?”

  “Yeah. He’s a stupid jock.”

  “There are lots of ways to play this character. The way you’re playing him is a valid choice. But, in my opinion, it’s much more interesting to play him as someone who’s smart. Who hasn’t been woken up to the beauty and joy of life. Who, in the course of the play, discovers it. It’s like when you learned about acting. Each thing you learn turns the light on inside you. That’s what it was like for me when I was learning the craft.”

  Nathan nodded emphatically.

  “I like to think of Milo as someone who hasn’t been challenged. So, he’s checked out. But, during the course of this crazy adventure, the audience gets to see the light turn on inside him. He learns to take charge of his own journey and life and to embrace a love of learning, so he’ll never be bored again. It’s more subtle this way.”

  “But, maybe more fun for the audience to watch?” Nathan said slowly.

  “Yes, that’s exactly it. Who wants to root for the dumb jock?” Ben shook his head. “Not many folks do. But the smart kid who realizes just how smart he is, and how he can change the world? There’s someone we can all root for, because who hasn’t needed that light turned on inside them at some point?”

  “I like that idea. But…I’ve been playing him like a jock.”

  “Think about it. Let me know at the next rehearsal. If you decide to change direction, I’ll give you notes on how to change going forward, and you can come up with your own ideas, too. If you decide to stick with your original interpretation, then I’ll know to give you notes based on that.”

  Ben checked his watch and shook his head. “I don’t know how Jonah does it. I’m way behind. We’ve only got twenty minutes left.”

  “That’s what he always says, too. Teachers, you’re all the same.” Nathan grinned as they walked down the aisle.

  “Oh, God. I’ve become one of them,” Ben groaned, genuinely horrified. “I’m probably not supposed to say oh, God either. Shit. I mean, dang it!”

  Nathan let out the first real laugh Ben had heard from him, and it was a great one—all kid and no goth.

  The next twenty minutes passed in a blur, and before he knew it, Ben waved goodbye to the last kid. Lindsey stood up, stretched and slung her knitting bag over her shoulder.

  “You did good,” she said, patting him on the shoulder as she headed back up the aisle. “You’re a natural.”

  “Don’t say that,” Ben muttered. When she raised her eyebrow, he shrugged. “Teacher phobia.”

  She laughed. “Good luck with that one. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

  “Thanks, Lindsey. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “You could have. It just would have been harder.”

  Ben was still smiling as he locked up the theater. He made his way back to the dock and just managed to catch the ferry. This time, he leaned on the railing, watching the boat slice through the choppy waves. The rain had stopped, for the moment, but the skies loomed dark gray overhead. He’d pulled his hoodie over his head, and no one paid any attention to him.

  He sent a quick text to Jonah, letting him know the rehearsal went well. Jonah replied almost instantly with effusive thanks, and Ben let out a sigh as he texted back.

  “Sorry if I was abrupt or rude. Wasn’t sure if I wanted my precious vacation interrupted.” He pressed send, then continued. “Truth is, I had the best time today in I can’t remember how long. So, thanks, for forcing me not to be a selfish asshole.”

  He cut off Jonah’s protests, told him they’d talk after the next rehearsal.

  Back at On the Sound, Ben headed straight back to the kitchen but didn’t see Amy. He was about to check upstairs when he caught a glimpse of her on the porch, glass of wine in hand.

  “Nice sweatshirt,” she said when he joined her. She pointed to the chair and empty wineglass next to her. “Sooooo…how’d it go?”

  Ben poured himself some wine and relaxed in the chair. “Pretty fantastic. I got a huge kick out of it.”

  “I knew you would.” She toasted him. “What’s the play about? I’m not familiar with it.”

  Ben gave her a synopsis of the plot. “It’s ironic, because I suppose in a lot of ways, I was like Milo—bored with my life, taking it all for granted.”

  “So, is this…the Doldrums?”

  “No, no,” Ben laughed. “It’s not an exact parallel.”

  “Good,” Amy said, arching her eyebrow at him. “I’d hate to think I’m all that boring.”

  “You are absolutely not. In fact, I was wondering how many glasses of wine you’d have to have before you’d consider coming over here with me.” Ben patted his knee.

  She smiled and downed the rest of her glass. “Pour me another, and I just might.”

  He obliged, and she came over to nestle on his lap, sitting sideways and leaning back against the arm of his chair so she could still see his face. He nestled her close and breathed in the scent of the garden that still clung to her and told her about the kids. She talked about her day while they finished off the bottle of wine, and the sun began to sink into the sea. The clouds had parted
just enough so the blazing sun peeked through, and Amy’s skin seemed to glow in the soft orange light.

  It was, Ben realized, pretty domestic. A scene he couldn’t remember ever playing out with another woman in quite the same way. Contentment settled deep into his very bones, and he thought he might sit there forever, in this same chair, watching the sunset a thousand more times with this woman in his arms.

  He turned her face towards him and kissed her soft and slow, drinking her in like the wine. She melted degree by degree into him, sliding her fingers into his hair while his fingers roamed up and down her back, lightly reaching forward to caress the sides of her breasts. The kiss deepened, their tongues and breath mingled until Ben felt like he was drowning, still hungry to have her, to take her, but at the same time, never wanting the moment to end.

  When they finally came up for air, Ben simply rested his forehead on hers, shaken to the core with aching desire and…something else. Something more. She stared into his eyes and took a shuddering breath.

  “You sure can kiss, Mr. Morrison,” she said before pulling back and giving him a flirtatious smile. But, Ben felt the slight tremor in her hands and wasn’t fooled. He let it go for now and just held her close while they watched the sun sink all the way into the dark water.

  As he rested his cheek on Amy’s hair, he couldn’t help but flash back to the advice he’d given Nathan. Like Milo, the light was turning on inside him. But, what was it that lit him up? Writing? This place? Or was it, he wondered even as he tightened his arms around Amy, this woman?

  Chapter 17

  “Thank you so much. Come back and stay again.” Amy waved as her last guests, a retired couple exploring all 50 states, drove off in their Winnebago. She did a little dance as she closed and locked the door behind her and let out a huge sigh of relief.