Acting Up

by Adele Buck

  “Unbelievable.” Susan rolled her eyes and half turned away, one hand on her hip.

  Paul caught the tiny slump in Cath’s shoulders as she started to walk away without responding. She glanced at him and the weariness and hopelessness in her eyes pierced him.

  “Cath called fifteen. We’re taking fifteen. That’s it,” Paul said.

  “Of course you would take your girlfriend’s side over one of your actors,” Susan snapped. “This is the state of the so-called ‘professional’ theater these days.”

  Paul strode down to the edge of the stage and spoke to Susan in a low voice. “You’re not one to be talking about working in professional theater. You’ve behaved like a spoiled, undisciplined, unprofessional brat from the first. And I’m done with it.”

  “What are you going to do? Threaten to fire me again? During tech week?” Susan folded her arms and looked down at him.

  “No, I can’t do that now as much as I’d like to. But I can refuse to extend your contract if this show gets a New York run. I am through with you. Done.”

  Susan’s arms unfolded and dangled by her sides. “A New York run? Why did nobody tell me that was a possibility?”

  “Would you have modified your behavior if you had known it?”

  Susan said nothing, her mouth tight.

  “That’s what I thought. You can behave like an adult if it’s in your interest to do so. But you don’t have the decency to do it because it’s the right thing to do. Make the best of the rest of the run. Use it to help you get your next job. But I am finished with you. And while I won’t personally gossip about this, you know the signal that it’s going to send to the rest of the world if we do get to take this play to Manhattan and you aren’t a member of the cast. Also, I can’t control the rest of the cast and crew. Word’s going to get around.” With that, Paul turned and walked up the aisle and out of the house, ignoring Susan’s calls for him to come back.

  Cath watched Paul leave the theater and fought back a fresh wave of tears. She had been unable to hear what passed between him and Susan, but she knew it hadn’t been good for the actress. The other woman’s body language had gone from confident to alarmed and she had been practically panicky when she called for Paul to come back to the stage.

  Following him into the lobby, Cath saw him standing in front of the wall that was covered in the framed head-shots of the cast in anticipation of the run. She swallowed hard and moved to stand beside him.

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

  Paul scrubbed his face with both hands. “What? You’re not going to beat me up for standing up for you? For not letting you fight your own battles?”

  Cath’s throat closed up. “No.”

  “Well, that’s something at least.” Paul turned and walked out of the theater. Taking a deep breath, Cath went into the ladies’ room and splashed cold water on her face, blowing her nose into the rough paper towel after she patted herself dry. Avoiding her reflection, she walked back to the darkened house. It was empty, the rest of the cast and crew taking advantage of the last ten minutes of the break.

  Just get through the rest of this. One foot in front of the other. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she saw a voicemail alert from Michael. Great. She listened to it, her stomach rolling at the director’s breezy, excited voice asking her to let him know when she was going to be in the city again and that he was excited to talk to her about the show. She stuffed the phone back in her pocket and rubbed her eyes as Karl entered the house and approached her.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Cath huffed a mirthless laugh. “No. But thanks.”

  Karl’s big hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed. Without another word, he moved away as the rest of the cast and crew filtered back. For the rest of the rehearsal Cath forced herself to focus, pushing everything else away. After what felt like a hundred hours, they were done.

  Clasping her hands and stretching them over her head, Cath called out, “That’s it. Cast, you’re released. Crew, see you first thing tomorrow. Please try to get some rest.”

  A weary grumble from the actors on the stage rolled through the theater as Glenn brought up the house lights. Cath darted a glance over at Laurie and Karl, whose temporary truce seemed to be holding up, standing close and conversing about something with only an echo of their former tension.

  Rising to her feet, Cath thanked Glenn, stretching and twisting her back to try and loosen the kinks. Today had been too much. No, more than too much. She wanted to scurry back to their shared life together in Paul’s ratty little apartment. At the same time, she was afraid they would open the door to find everything somehow irreparably shattered, as if their relationship was already a murder scene, a cold room with something gruesome to be discovered.

  “Ready to go home?” Paul’s voice was soft.

  “Let’s get something to eat first,” she said, fear welling up as she thought about “home.” The very idea of trusting that safety seemed naive just now. She needed a bit of time before she was ready. Turning to look at Paul, she saw a watchful look in his eyes and wondered if he was feeling the same way.

  “Sounds good. How ‘bout you pack up and we can go.”

  Gathering her things, Cath stole another look at Laurie and Karl. They appeared more normal now, Karl rubbing a tentative hand across the small of Laurie’s back, Laurie smiling at something Karl had said.

  Cath wondered how they could move this soon from the mean-spirited bickering of earlier in the day to this comparative ease.

  And what about us?

  Paul almost reached his hand out to clasp Cath’s as she shouldered her satchel, but he let his arms drop and hang at his sides as they walked up the aisle and out into the lobby. It was still light in the early summer evening, the quaint street that the theater sat on mellow in the golden radiance.

  Without asking Cath where she wanted to go, Paul set his feet in the direction of the diner where they had had breakfast that first morning of their new relationship. But when they reached the restaurant, it was closed.

  “Breakfast and lunch only.” Cath read off the sign on the door. “Where else do you want to go?”

  Paul’s jaw clenched with frustration. “Dammit.”

  Cath looked at him, her eyes cautious and exhausted. “Did you want breakfast food for dinner that badly?”

  “No,” he said, feeling foolish.

  “Well, then let’s find some other place to eat.”

  “I wanted to bring you here,” he said stubbornly. “I thought it would help.”

  Standing beside him, Cath leaned around to get a better look at his face. “I’m not following you.” Paul saw that her expression was still tense and worried, the look compounded by fatigue and concern.

  Paul scrubbed his face with his hands, then pushed his fingers through his hair. “I…oh, I don’t know, Cath. I had this idiotic notion that if I brought you here, the place where you felt comfortable enough to go public with…” he reached out and grasped her hand, “…this. Us. That it might help.”

  Comprehension blossomed in Cath’s face and she bit her lip. “Oh.” She looked at their clasped hands. “That’s really sweet. Does that mean…you forgive me?”

  “About the Michael thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know. Do you forgive me about almost firing Susan?”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know. Are you going to do something like that again?”

  “I don’t have any plans to. Are you keeping anything else secret that I should know about?”

  Cath sighed. “I really did forget. I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you. I told him I would talk to him about it after the end of The Catalyst’s run and that was it.”

  “And are you still going to talk to him about the job?”

  “That kind of depends on whether or not we’re still us at the end of the day.
If we’re not, I guess I’m going to need to.” Cath’s voice wobbled and Paul pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

  “We’re always going to be us. Just…just talk to me, okay?”

  Relief swept through Cath, and she nodded into his shoulder, wrapping weak arms around his waist. One of his hands cupped the back of her head and tugged lightly at her hair. Looking up, she saw his blue eyes were shining with unshed tears.

  “I can’t bear the thought of losing you. In any way.” His soft voice thrummed with emotion.

  “Me neither.”

  “All right then.” His lips covered hers in an urgent, even possessive, kiss. For once, Cath surrendered to the feeling.

  A fierce growl from Paul’s stomach was followed by a groan as he broke the kiss. “Once again, I aim for passion and land on comedy. Let’s find some food.”

  Cath managed a weak smile as he twined his fingers in hers and towed her, weak-kneed and exhausted, along the sidewalk until they stopped in front of a restaurant where the smell of grilling hamburgers wafted out, making her mouth water.

  “So, we eat,” Paul said. “And then we talk.”

  “Eminently reasonable,” Cath said as Paul raised two fingers to the hostess who seated them at a table in front of a window that looked out on the street.

  Cath perused the menu for a few moments. An attentive waitress took their orders and hurried away. Leaning back in her chair, Cath took a deep breath. “So…I know we’re supposed to talk, but now I don’t really know what to say.”

  “Tennessee Williams was right, though. ‘Silence about a thing just magnifies it,’” he said, his blue eyes solemn.

  Warmth blossomed in her stomach at his invocation of their quoting game. “You’re not supposed to give me a hint. Anyway, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

  The corners of Paul’s mouth twitched up and he reached a hand across the table, palm up. Placing her own hand in his, she watched him as he curled his fingers around hers. He wasn’t looking at her face, but considering their joined hands on the table.

  “So. Let’s address the first crisis first,” he said at last. “Should I regret using Karl and Laurie as an example of a partnership that combines work and love?”

  There was that word again. Love. Cath grew still and watchful. With few exceptions, Paul was careful with his words. He hadn’t been speaking at random. His eyes were steady as he waited for her response.

  “No,” she finally said. “I think the mistake was mine in identifying with them too strongly. I felt almost superstitious about it.”

  “In what way?”

  Cath tilted her head, considering. “Like we had followed them down a road and whatever happened to them would happen to us. If they fought, we would too. If they failed, we would fail.”

  Paul took a moment and steadied himself. He had said love; she had said fail.

  “We’re not fighting now, though,” he said.

  Cath shook her head, her eyes shiny. “No,” she said, “no, we’re not.”

  “So, we’re not following them down every path and byway. We’re doing this ourselves. For ourselves.”

  “I know,” she said, but her face still had the shadow of her earlier miserable look and her eyes wouldn’t meet his.

  “The thing you feared…do you still fear it?” Paul forced himself to keep his voice low, his clasp on her hand gentle. He wanted to scream, to pull her to him in a tight grip and not let go.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Do you even know what you’re afraid of?” he asked, the word fail reverberating again in his mind.

  “I’m terrified of losing you,” she admitted, finally meeting his eyes.

  “Why?” he asked, squeezing her hand. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Shrugging, Cath said, “Oh, I don’t know. Habit? I told myself for years I shouldn’t want any sort of romantic relationship with you because it would ruin everything. And we almost lost each other today. Now…”

  Ruin. Fail. Fear. Lost.

  Paul sighed, pushing past these echoes. “We had a bad moment. We are talking about it. It isn’t ruined. At least, I don’t think so. Do you?”

  Cath shook her head and pulled her hand back as the waitress brought their meals. He watched her as she put a napkin in her lap and poured ketchup on her plate. Finally, she looked up at him again and said in a rush, “No. It’s not ruined. It’s not ruined at all. It’s so wonderful it scares me.”

  Paul almost laughed. “So failure scares you and success scares you too?”

  “What can I say, I’m a very fearful person.” Some of her usual astringency returned to her tone and he smirked as he watched her tuck into her burger.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t believe that for a second,” he said. “I know you too well.”

  “You do,” she said, toying with a fry.

  “And you know me,” he said.

  “Also true.”

  “So where does the fear come from?”

  Pursing her lips slightly, Cath looked up and met his eyes. “From the fact that I love you too.”

  Having finally said the words, an enormous warmth bloomed in Cath’s chest, and she saw a cautious smile curling his mouth.

  “You’re not just saying it back, are you?” he asked.

  “No.”

  The smile grew stronger and Cath thought she saw Paul’s eyes grow bright with unshed tears. “That’s good then,” he said, looking down at his plate.

  “I’m not used to being this vulnerable, though,” she said.

  “No, nor am I. But I can’t think of anyone in the world I trust more than you,” he said.

  “Yeah. I trust you too.”

  “Is that why you haven’t given me hell about defending you today?”

  “I was exhausted. I didn’t have any fight in me.”

  “I could tell. You don’t always have to stand on your own, you know. It’s not cheating to lean on me now and again. In fact, you letting me help you is a gift.”

  “A gift?”

  Paul’s eyes met hers. “A gift to me. That you trust me to help you without trying to make it about controlling you.”

  Cath blinked. “Oh. Well. Thanks for stepping in.”

  “Of course. Remember, we’re a team. And on top of that, I love you.”

  “Yeah. You might have mentioned that. I love you too.”

  They concluded their meal in a companionable silence. Leaving the restaurant, Paul wound his arm around Cath’s shoulders instead of taking her hand as had become their habit.

  “How do you feel now?” he asked.

  She considered the question for a few seconds as they walked. “Better in some ways,” she said.

  “And in others?”

  “Well, it might be fatigue, or it might be relief, but I almost feel like crying. Again. Which seems ridiculous, but this whole day has been kind of ridiculous.”

  “That’s okay, he said. ‘Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning.’”

  Cath thought for a moment. “Okay, you got me, what’s that from? Some obscure Restoration drama?”

  “No. The Book of Common Prayer.”

  “You’re a constant source of surprises, you know that?” she asked.

  “I try, my love. I try.”

  Arriving back home, Paul took his time making love to her and Cath let herself believe every endearment, every compliment, every word of love that passed his lips.

  Chapter 22

  Closing the door of the light booth, Cath sat and slid her headset on, adjusting the microphone in front of her mouth. “No chatter from here on out,” she said to the others on the open channel, eyes scanning the audience as they got settled. Somewhere out there in the house, Paul was surveying the crowd and fidgeting, she was sure.

  “Freddie, have you called places?” she asked.

  “Everyone in place and ready.” Freddie’s quiet voice sounded in her ears.

  �
��Great, thank you, Freddie. Stand by house lights, warning for light cue one.”

  “Standing by, warned,” Glenn said.

  Glancing again at the audience, she saw that most were in their seats, a humming buzz of anticipatory murmuring rising from the crowd. “House lights down…go,” she said and the theater descended into darkness.

  “Light cue one…go.” Light bloomed on the stage, illuminating Susan, standing alone.

  And we’re off.

  Paul stood in the back of the darkened house, fingers drumming a steady beat against his thigh. The audience was hushed, not a rustle, not a murmur to disturb the performance. Susan and James were electrifying. With the usual perversity of actors, their personal dislike of each other somehow was transmuted into a chemistry that seemed like desperate, destructive adoration. It was riveting, impossible to look away from.

  Paul grinned as the lights shifted almost imperceptibly and thought of Cath working her alchemy in the booth. This was the point where the production became hers, lights and sets and props and even actors moving at her command. He wanted to duck into the booth to observe her calm competence as he had done in the past, but he knew he was too keyed up and his presence would only distract her.

  Movement at the edge of his vision made Paul turn his head. Karl and Laurie had joined him at the back of the theater, twin smiles making their eyes sparkle as they looked over the set. Fierce, bright emotion expanded through Paul’s chest as he thought of all the people who had worked to create this—this ephemeral piece of art that he hoped would transcend its temporary nature in the memories and experiences of the audience.

  Laughter suddenly boomed out of the audience, a sudden contrast from the hushed, attentive silence until now. Paul smiled a secretive, delighted smile. They were falling in love with these people, with their relationship. By act five, they would be ravaged, yet somehow loving the experience of having their hearts ripped out, of feeling that vicarious devastation.