Drown The Stage With Tears
The following Monday, after class, I had a delicate balancing act to make my way through. Zac and I spent nearly every waking moment together even before we were dating – I was pretty sure it was safe to use that word, even though we hadn’t yet – and that hadn’t changed in the days and hours since the homecoming dance. Luckily, Justine came up with the perfect excuse to drag him away for a study session for their math class. That left me with a little time that afternoon to go shopping and then meet up with everyone else at the coffee shop for a secret planning session.
I hadn’t even realized that Zac’s birthday was approaching so quickly until he made some small comment about it the day before. With that realization, I somehow managed to throw together this last minute planning session in between class and rehearsal. The shopping trip had, luckily, not taken very long. I spotted the perfect gift almost immediately, so I arrived at the coffee shop just in time to eat a late dinner of coffee and salad with everyone else. They had, of course, begun without me, but that was okay.
“Hey, Toria!” Taylor called out as I walked in the door. Surprisingly, for a Monday, the shop wasn’t very busy, so it didn’t take me long to spot my friends crowded around the counter.
Taylor and Joseph both stood behind the counter, since they were working, and I had to laugh at how similar their posture was. They did make a cute couple; no one could really deny that. Whitley had pulled two of the bar stools together so that she could prop her leg up. Luckily, her knee had only been dislocated with no permanent damage, but she was still in a lot of pain and both the crutches and the immobilizer brace she wore meant that she couldn’t get around very easily. She was taking it pretty well, though. It probably helped that Zac’s roommate, Evan, seemed to be paying her some extra attention lately.
“Please tell me you guys have finished planning the entire thing without my help,” I said, throwing myself onto the last empty bar stool. “Can I get my usual latte and one of those Caesar salads?”
“Sure thing,” Joseph said, rushing off to fill the order.
“Sadly, we aren’t anywhere close to finished,” Whitley said. “We had just made the fairly obvious decision to have the party at Taylor’s apartment.”
Taylor waved off my money as Joseph handed the food to me, then adopted a serious look. “And if you fuckers trash the place, I’m making the birthday boy clean it up. Just because I can.”
“I can just feel the brotherly love,” I replied, taking a large sip of my drink. “So, what about a cake? What’s his favorite? I feel like I should know these kind of things, since I am his… umm…”
I clammed up before I could actually say the word. It didn’t feel wrong, but it did feel weird. Even though it had been building for so long, it had only really just happened to us. How could I put a label on something like Zac, anyway? There wasn’t a single word in the English language that described him, so it just felt wrong to pick out some word for our relationship, knowing that whatever word I did choose, it just wasn’t enough.
Luckily, everyone had the good sense to ignore my awkward moment and carry on with their conversation as though nothing strange had happened. Taylor didn’t skip a beat in replying, “Turtle cheesecake. I’ll pick one up, since it will be easiest for me to hide it from him. He’s not allowed in my kitchen.”
“Good rule,” I replied. “You could lose your whole paycheck to that boy’s appetite.”
“So I think, basically, the plan is just to throw up some streamers, balloons and stuff like that,” Evan added.
“Are we going to invite anyone else? Like, some of his band friends?” I asked.
Evan, who was a trumpet player in the band, shrugged. “Sure, I can ask some of them. There’s a couple other guys in the drumline that he’s friends with. But I dunno; do we want to have a huge party?”
“Well, I’ve already got plenty of alcohol and drinking games galore,” Taylor said. “So why not? We can have a good time. It’s a weekend, so what’s the harm?”
I frowned. “Parties haven’t exactly been the best time in the world for me and Zac, but… it’ll be different if it’s just a little group, right?”
Taylor offered me a knowing look. “Absolutely. It’ll be fine.”
Whitley glanced at her cell phone. “Hey, it’s about time for rehearsal. Tell everyone I wish I could be there.”
I finished shoveling in the last of my salad, since it was the only dinner I was going to get, and gave Whitley a quick hug. “I wish you could be there. I don’t know how I’m going to face… certain people… without you there.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Whitley said. “It’s almost Hell Week, anyway, so everyone is going to be too focused on the show to cause any drama.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I really, really hoped that Whitley was right. She knew better than I did how the theatre at VCU operated, but I still couldn’t imagine this week and the following Hell Week being much fun with not only the drama between Donovan and me, but a new person coming into the cast at the least minute. Because of that little bump in the road, Dr. Ansary had decided to give us an extra long week of full tech runs just to make sure we were extra prepared; it was more like Hell Half A Month than just Hell Week. When we ran through all the tech cues Sunday afternoon, Dr. Ansary had kept mum about who the new addition was, but promised she would be ready to make her debut during tonight’s full run through.
Since I had rushed through dinner, I arrived at the theatre with a few minutes to spare. That was good; I would need that time to get in the proper head space to perform. I tossed my backpack down in the green room and settled into a chair to wait for the stage manager, Adrienne, to give me the five minute call. Everything tonight would run exactly like a show – no scripts, no calling for line, no goofing around, and definitely no cell phones. Which meant I jumped straight out of the chair when I heard my cell phone ding to announce a new text. I fumbled through my bag and pulled it out to see that the text was, naturally, from Zac.
I laughed, and discretely typed a reply before any could walk in and see that I was breaking one of the cardinal rules of Dr. Ansary’s theatre.
I turned the phone on silent and, just as an extra precaution, tucked it under my leg so that no one would see it. Only a few seconds later, I felt it buzz, and pulled it out to read Zac’s reply.
That familiar, wide smile spread across my face when I read his words. Before I could reply, though, the green room door swung open and Adrienne poked her head in. From behind her clipboard, she said, “Five minutes until we would normally start, but Dr. Ansary wants to have a quick meeting out in the house.”
“I’ll be right there,” I replied, holding my breath that she didn’t say anything about the cell phone still poised in my hand. She didn’t, and after I let out that breath, I typed a last reply to Zac.
I turned the phone off and tucked back into my purse without waiting for his reply; he knew how strict the theatre was, so I knew I wouldn’t upset him if I didn’t reply to whatever cute response he made next. I hurried out of the the green room and into the theatre to see what Dr. Ansary had to say. I was sure I could imagine the generic speech she would give, but I was curious to see who she would be announcing as Whitley’s replacement.
Other actors were still milling around and finding their way to seats when I entered the theatre, but despite their relaxed attitudes, the nervousness and tension in the room was still obvious. Hell Week was, well, hell even during an easy show with a cast who liked each other. Speaking of which, Donovan did not even glance up from his seat in the corner when I walked in, and for that, I was glad.
I settled into a spot in the second row that I thought was fairly inconspicuous and watched as the rest of the students shuffled in and found their seats. At first, I didn’t notice anyone new, so I wondered if Dr. Ansary had just promoted a crew member. I didn’t think that was likely, since few of them also acted. As I was considering the situation, a new figure walked across the stage and made my stomach turn.
Christin.
Of course it was her. How had I expected anyone else? It was just my luck that she would show up again now that I was happy with Zac. Maybe she wouldn’t cause any problems, but I could tell just by her smirk when she glanced in my direction that that probably wasn’t going to be the case. No, she wouldn’t make this easy for me. I supposed that no one ever would; at least I was trying now, but that didn’t mean the rest of the world was just going to go my way.
I spent most of Dr. Ansary’s speech feeling sorry for myself and didn’t really hear a word of it. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before, of course – mostly a lot of encouragement to put on a good show, reminders that we were in performance mode now, and some information about cues and other such things largely for Christin’s benefit. The speech dragged on and on, as directors often do, but finally she dismissed us with a loud clap and sent us scattering off to our spots for the top of the show.
I settled back into my spot in one of the green room chairs. Although it was actually across the hallway from backstage, a small monitor mounted to the wall allowed anyone in the room to hear the actors onstage; that way, we could relax on the couches and not worry about missing our cues. Surprisingly, the room was empty. I think everyone else was too nervous to stray so far from backstage, but I wanted the privacy.
Not surprisingly, the privacy didn’t last for long. Just as the pre-show music faded and the actors began to speak their lines, Christin bounded into the room and sat down on the couch next to my chair. She pulled a nail file from her pocket and began fixing her manicure, which I had no doubt was already perfect. She looked positively bored, and I supposed I would be too if I had as small a part in the show as she did.
We sat there in awkward silence for a while, until she finally spoke without even glancing up at me. “So, are you liking it here at VCU? Meeting any nice guys?”
“Umm,” I replied. It wasn’t one of my more eloquent moments, I’ll admit.
She finally looked up, shooting me a knowing look. “Yeah, I met a lot of boys my freshman year, too. Never knew which ones to trust.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what she was implying, but I didn’t think I liked it. I cleared my throat and squeaked out, “Some of them are nice.”
Christin smiled. “Yeah, like Zac. He’s really nice. At least, in some ways.”
I blanched. She couldn’t possibly be implying what it seemed like she was implying… or could she? I stared at her blankly, finding my usual propensity for quick remarks had seemingly deserted me.
She tilted her head to the side and seemed to consider her next statement for a moment before making it. “Oh… I suppose it isn’t my place to tell you. Let’s just say, you might want to keep a close watch on him. He might have wandering eyes, and he definitely has wandering hands.”
Yes, she was definitely implying what I thought she was implying. Luckily, I didn’t have time to even consider a reply. Over the monitor, I heard Claudius deliver a line that meant my cue was coming soon. I rushed out of the green room before Christin could say anything else, but I could still see her mischievous blue eyes following me.
I tried not to think about what she had said, instead focusing all of my thoughts and efforts on throwing myself headlong into my performance. It worked fairly well, even when I was face to face with Donovan and his equally evil smirk. But during the moments when I wasn’t onstage, my thoughts flew back to what Christin had said and I found myself growing ill. I hid in a corner of the backstage area, secluded behind a stack of black boxes, just so I wouldn’t have to face her again.
She had to be lying, I told myself, but I wasn’t convinced. Even through the haze of alcohol, I could remember their hands wandering all over each other in the middle of that party. And anyway, Zac and I hadn’t even been together then. What right did I have to get upset about what he might have done with her, when I had fooled around with him while I was supposed to be Donovan’s girlfriend? I was a hypocrite. Not surprisingly, that realization did not make me feel better.
I felt absolutely, positively sick. My mind filled with images of Zac doing the same things to Christin that he had done to me. I wondered if he was the same with her – sweet but passionate. I wondered if his eyes sparkled the same way when he looked at her. Did he fall asleep in her arms as easily as he did mine? It made me sick to even think about it. How could he do any of that with her while he claimed he was waiting for me?
With all of those awful thoughts swirling around my mind, it was a miracle that I remembered any of my lines. When Hamlet spat at me and yelled about nunneries, I felt every inch the whore he said I was. When I, as Ophelia, danced around the stage showering everyone with flowers, all I could see in my mind was Zac entwined with Christin, kissing her face and neck just as he had kissed mine. I felt used. I wondered if this was how Zac felt when I kissed him with the same lips I used to call myself Donovan’s girlfriend.
The play seemed to end abruptly, Hamlet’s death pulling me suddenly from my mind. Someone shoved me onstage for curtain call, and I thought I might bend over and shower the stage with that salad and latte I had shoveled in earlier. Dr. Ansary dismissed us with a wave, promising to deliver her notes before the next night’s run through, and I rushed from the stage, shoving past the other actors with reckless abandon.
My backpack was where I had left it in the green room and I pulled my cell phone from it before slinging it over my shoulder. One new text from Zac, the screen told me, and I flipped it open to see what he had to say.
I frowned at the screen. His words were, on the surface, sweet, but they turned my stomach. Everything felt wrong. I didn’t want to lie to him, but at that moment, it seemed the easiest thing to do, to just run away from my problems. I could worry about solving them later.
I didn’t wait for his reply. I stabbed the phone’s power button and watched it shut down. I was a coward, and I didn’t care at all.