Romance Redefined

by SJD Peterson

  I tried to slide quietly from the bed, but before my feet were on the floor, Hugh grabbed my arm. “Stay.”

  I froze. Although the word was a command, I could hear the plea in his voice. It was enough to make me stay. I lay back down, scarcely breathing, daring to hope. Countless nights in this very bed, even with Hugh lying next to me, I’d felt alone. I never knew where he went; I only knew he was no longer with me, even though his physical body was, his mind was far, far away.

  Hugh didn’t look at me, but he pulled me close. He ran a single finger up and down my arm in a random pattern. He didn’t speak, but he knew I was there. He wanted me there. The spark of hope burned a little brighter.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE MUSTY smell of the theater rose around me. I imagined it as the odor of a thousand shabby dreams. Well, today I’d brought my own slightly shabby dream into this small, decrepit theater. This was the same theater where I’d performed such a rotten audition two weeks ago, reading the part of an eccentric uncle. Yesterday Frank informed me that the role was still open. He’d somehow managed to wrangle a copy of the script for me, and I’d studied it thoroughly. I could tell that this was destined to be a rather rambling and pretentious play, but the role of the uncle did have possibilities. Who was I kidding, anyway? I wanted desperately to act. I didn’t care how good or bad the play was, if only I could be in it. So much for my pride. A solid year of rejections had taken care of that.

  I walked briskly down the narrow aisle of the theater, confident of my abilities. Three or four people clustered in front of the stage, among them the same red-haired woman.

  “Have a seat,” she told me with little apparent interest. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

  I settled back into the chair and took a few deep breaths, then opened the script and flipped through a few of the pages, rereading lines. But I couldn’t relax. Too many thoughts kept intruding, of failure, of success… of Charleston.

  I’d left Charleston four days ago, and I’d been worried about Mother ever since. It didn’t help that every time I called her and began a sensible discussion, she lost her temper and hung up on me. I had been branded a traitor for siding with Charles. It seemed that Mother had broken off all negotiations with her ex-fiancé and was ready to break off all communication with anyone who so much as mentioned his name. From the sound of things, she wasn’t spending very much time with her friends. She’d always been like this. If people didn’t agree with her, then she simply refused to talk to anyone until they came around to “proper” thinking. She was as stubborn as a mule, and there really was no point in trying to talk to her until she was ready. Totally pointless.

  Then there was Hugh. I had thought of little else but him since I’d left the beach house. Whether it had been real, or wishful thinking on my part, I had sensed a change in Hugh. He’d asked me to stay, had held me until I’d fallen asleep. He was trying—or at least I thought he was. Of course, in the morning, Hugh was all business, emotionally closed off as he rushed me home so he could get to the office. Here in the dimness of the theater, my face burned with anger at the memory of going to bed with that bastard again. The first time, I’d had an excuse: excessive alcohol. The second time, I had no excuse at all.

  In annoyance I tapped the script against my knee. One mistake I could forgive myself. Two mistakes I couldn’t. I despised my weakness.

  “Of course, you could just sit there,” Red said. She waved a flippant hand. “Fine with me.”

  I scrambled to my feet. I couldn’t believe I’d been so distracted I hadn’t heard the summons to the stage. I’d allowed thoughts of Hugh ruin my last audition, and I’d be damned if I’d allow him to ruin this one as well. I walked briskly down the aisle and up the steps.

  Red glared at me for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “I suppose you might as well read with Jason.”

  A man of about twenty-five climbed onto the stage beside me, carrying a copy of the script. My stomach tightened from nerves, but I managed to give him a brief professional nod. Quickly I thought about the character I was supposed to play—a man slipping off the edge of middle age, hiding his nature and his passion beneath a cloak of indifference. I clenched the script and took another deep breath. The first line was mine, and I began speaking the words, rushing them. Emotion—where was the emotion I should feel? Dammit, I wasn’t Ben Winthrop anymore. I was a man named Edgar, speaking to a young man half his age who had ignited forbidden desires and hid them behind a facade of anger. Except, I didn’t feel anger, or any other emotion appropriate to the character. I just felt awkward and ridiculous, and I was reading too fast.

  “Start again,” interrupted Red, sounding impatient.

  I couldn’t believe I’d already bungled things. My throat had gone dry, my chest was constricted, and my damn palms were sweating.

  “You’ll do fine,” Jason whispered. “Remember, it’s just a part.”

  I glanced at him. Jason was pleasant-looking, with fair coloring and hazel eyes. And somehow he’d managed to say just the right thing. He made me realize I was taking this part too seriously. I had to play around with it a little. I had to think of it as trying on a new suit, not as wearing a straitjacket.

  I took one last deep breath, then tried again. The lines flowed easily this time. “I have no time for you. Be gone.”

  “What do you mean you have no time for me? You asked me to come.”

  I kept trying to relax. It was a short scene, but it was also one of the best in the play, where the uncle comes to realize how scared he is and dismays over his lack of control.

  I took a turn around a small crate littered with shredded newspaper. The stage directions read “Edgar walks to the mantel, keeping his back to his niece’s boyfriend.” I tried to improvise. “I made a mistake.”

  “Why are you so cold—”

  I spun and glared at Jason. “I said—”

  “Okay, okay,” Red interrupted. “No need to drag it out. Thank you, Mr.… Whatever.”

  I lowered the script. It took me a second or two to let go of Edgar. The audition was already over. Usually that made me feel relieved. Today I just felt a peculiar sense of loss. I hadn’t even gotten started and I was being shooed away.

  The red-haired woman, however, was already speaking to someone else. I turned to Jason. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Hey, no sweat, you did great.”

  I wasn’t sure at all how I’d done. Obviously, Red wasn’t impressed. But anyway, the session was over. I went down the stage steps and walked back up the aisle. I moved automatically, a sharp disappointment going through me. One more audition, one less part to play. It didn’t make for the most balanced equation.

  “Be here at seven tomorrow.”

  I twisted around and gawked at the red-haired woman, who was still looking bored. “You want me to read again?”

  “I want you to know the damn lines.”

  For a long minute, I didn’t understand. “Do you mean—”

  “You want Edgar or not?”

  Still not daring to believe it, I wished she would just come out and say it. Well, if she wouldn’t, I would. “I got the part?”

  She looked resigned. “You got the part. That is, unless you have issues with kissing another man?”

  Actually, I prefer it. I swallowed down a snort of laughter. “No, ma’am.”

  “Seven o’clock tomorrow night, then.”

  I didn’t know how I made my way from the theater, but a few moments later, I was standing on the sidewalk outside. Everything looked wonderful to me—the boarded-up storefront across the street, the garbage clotting the gutter, the grimy marquee of the theater itself. I had a part. I actually have a part! A role to play. I felt like screaming. I felt like calling up Hugh and telling him the fantastic, stupendous, incredible news.

  This impulse brought me up short. I stood there in front of the seedy little theater. Why would I want to call my ex, of all people? What was wrong with me?

  Su
rely, Hugh was the last person who’d understand why I was so happy at this moment. And that marred my happiness.

  Would I never be free of Hugh Bayard?

  “Congratulations,” said a voice beside me.

  Absorbed in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Jason come out of the theater.

  I smiled. “Listen, thanks for what you did in there. You helped me relax and get through it.”

  He stuck out his hand to shake mine. “Jason Collins, alias Pete, alias partner in the Stewart Mott Playhouse. A pretty grandiose name for this dump of ours, but someday I’ll have to tell you all about Stewart, our eccentric founder. He deserves a little grandiosity.”

  So, Jason Collins was not only an actor. “Well… thanks again,” I said.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me your name? Technically I’m your new boss, although Joyce Draper likes to think she’s the one calling the shots.”

  Joyce Draper was no doubt the red-haired woman. I felt as if I’d just plunged into an intriguing new world. I was now officially one of the Stewart Mott players. I liked the sound of it. A little grandiosity was fine with me.

  “I’m Ben Winthrop. It’s been nice meeting you, Jason, and I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven—”

  “Let me buy you a cup of coffee to celebrate.”

  I wanted to share this moment of excitement with someone. Foolishly I still wanted that someone to be Hugh, but he wasn’t here. He wasn’t part of this new life of mine. That was the way it had to be.

  “A cup of coffee sounds great.”

  We walked a few blocks to a small Italian restaurant and slid into a booth, facing each other. We ended up not only with coffee but also with servings of amoretti cake.

  It was delicious, but it could have been sawdust and I would have eaten it gladly. I felt benevolent toward everything and everyone. I wanted to order amoretti cake for the entire place, except Jason and I were the only ones there. No matter. This moment was what I had longed for. I repeated it over and over in my mind. I had a part. I had a role. I was Edgar.

  Jason propped his elbows on the table. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t decide whether you look like someone who just got hit by a bus or someone who just won the lottery.”

  “I feel a little of both,” I admitted. “This is my first break. My first acting role.”

  “Don’t get carried away,” he warned. “The pay’s rotten, and we’ll be lucky if we get an audience.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll always remember this moment. Where I was, what I was doing.” I glanced around so I could set these surroundings into my memory. My gaze came back to rest on Jason, and I realized how crazy I sounded. “I’m not usually like this. I’m usually very calm.”

  Jason smiled. “Hey, I’m just glad I could be here to share the moment. You’re not jaded yet. I like that.”

  Jason had a nice smile. His hair was sandy colored and grown long enough to curl over his collar, and he had a slightly ruddy complexion as if he’d spent time out in the sun. He was quite handsome.

  “I’m jaded about enough things,” I admitted. “It comes with age. I’m thirty-five, after all.”

  “Interesting,” Jason remarked, “the way you’re already setting up barriers. Very well. I’m twenty-six. Not all that different from thirty-five.”

  Was I really setting up a barrier? Perhaps. It took me a moment to sort it out. I’d felt a little attracted to a man other than Hugh, and then I’d felt oddly guilty about it. Christ, I was behaving as if I’d been disloyal to my ex. How ridiculous. We were through. Finished! No matter that I’d slept with him again.

  I poured extra sugar into my coffee. “I’m just getting into character. I’m supposed to play the older man, aren’t I?”

  Jason stirred his coffee slowly. “Tell me a little about yourself. I’m curious. You say this is your first role. But you must have acted in college or high school. All of us have stories about our tenth-grade drama teachers.”

  “I might as well admit it. I was always too much of a coward to try out for high school or college plays. I had this dream about being an actor, but it was never anything more than that. After college, well, life got in the way.”

  “Something tells me you’re making up for lost time,” Jason said.

  “That’s one way to put it.” All my years with Hugh—could I call it lost time? In too many ways, I had lost myself in him. I couldn’t deny that, but it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.

  “You seem to be doing pretty well,” I said to Jason. “You’re already co-owner of a theater and you’re only twenty-six.”

  “I’ve just sunk all my money into a rundown theater in a shady part of the city—maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m smart. Too soon to tell.” He cocked his head. “So, how do you feel about playing an older gay man?”

  “I’ve been doing it all my life, well, not the old part.” I chuckled, nervously watching Jason for his reaction. It was one thing to play a gay man, completely different story to be one. At least to some people.

  Jason sat back with a satisfied smile. “Well, Ben Winthrop, you have just made my night.” With the way Jason was looking at me appreciatively, there was no question as to his sexual preference.

  I smiled and my stomach fluttered. Perhaps the excitement of getting my first part was messing with me. I ignored the strange feeling Jason brought out in me. “Then that makes two of us having great nights.” Suddenly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, I slid from the booth and stood. “Look, thank you for celebrating with me, Jason. But I have to get back to work.”

  Jason rose. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  “You don’t waste any time, do you.”

  “Not when it counts,” Jason said. “So, what do you say? I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  I hesitated, then shook my head. “It’s not such a good idea.”

  “Let me guess, those nine years again?”

  “No, that’s not it. I’m… sort of involved with someone right now,” I lied, then wanted to kick myself. What was wrong with me? A handsome, younger man was inviting me to dinner, and I had to invent excuses?

  “Sort of involved,” Jason echoed. “Do tell.”

  “It’s difficult to explain.” I wished I hadn’t even started. “It’s just… complicated.”

  Jason looked disappointed. “You know you’re in trouble when a man tells you it’s complicated. The C word. Bad news all around.”

  I couldn’t help smiling again. Jason really was engaging. I put out my hand to shake his. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the theater.”

  Jason smiled warmly. “Tomorrow it is.”

  We parted at the door of the restaurant, and I felt a tinge of regret. I had a suspicion I was going to like working with Jason, so why hadn’t I accepted his invitation? Such a simple, ordinary thing, going out to dinner with someone. Why couldn’t I just let it be simple and ordinary? Why had I fabricated that nonsense about being involved? Showing poor judgment and going to bed with an ex did not constitute involvement. Even if I’d done it twice.

  “Damn you, Hugh Bayard,” I grumbled, then rushed back to work.

  The crowd at the Common Cure made it difficult to get through the door, but knowing I was going to have another crazy shift couldn’t put a damper on my mood. The smile on my face as I pushed through toward the back was so big, it nearly split my face. I had a part!

  In the kitchen, Geovanni was screaming, the cooks scrambling. I scanned the room until I found the familiar ponytail. I snatched my apron off the hook and put it on as I made my way to Mel.

  She looked relieved when she spotted me. “Oh, thank God. The salad bar is demolished.” She cocked her head, a smile forming. “Wait! From the look on your face….” She grabbed my arms and started jumping up and down. “You got the part!”

  “I got the part!” I confirmed.

  We bounced up and down like fools. It felt so good to have someone as excited about my accomplishment as I was
.

  “I knew you would do it. This is so frickin’ awesome!” Mel threw her arms around me and hugged me. “Just make sure you remember the little people when you’re a famous actor.”

  “It’s a small part in a rundown theater. I doubt I’ll be hitting the big screen or Broadway anytime soon.” I chuckled.

  “And you won’t be getting a paycheck anytime soon if you don’t get to work!”

  Mel jerked back, her eyes wide, showing the same shock I felt. How in the hell had Geovanni overheard us with the noise level in the kitchen? The surprise quickly wore off. Mel pecked my cheek. “Congrats.”

  “Thanks.” I winked and hurried to off to refill the salad bar. I was officially an actor. Holy shit—an actor. I wanted to scream it to the world. But that would have to wait until the lunch crowd was satisfied, unless I wanted to be a homeless actor.

  CHAPTER NINE

  FOR WHAT seemed the hundredth time, I repeated the opening to act 3, scene 5.

  “Why must you bother me? I simply—”

  “Wrong, Winthrop,” snapped Joyce for what also seemed the hundredth time. “All wrong. I told you to be nasty. Sour. Insincere. Got it?”

  I shifted in my chair, my muscles cramped from sitting so long. The theater had no air-conditioning, and I was sticky with perspiration. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time making Edgar such a sarcastic and underhanded person,” I said with as much patience as I could muster. “Edgar genuinely cares for his niece. I feel sorry for him. He’s so tortured by what he’s feeling for her boyfriend.”