"Unless the next words out of your mouth are 'need to take a break,' I don't want to hear them. The scene is fine. You are not. Now go." He points toward the door.
Begrudgingly, I head out. The rain has finally let up, leaving the air heavy with moisture. It's not quite night yet, the sunset normally occurring around eight these days. On the other hand, it's not light either. I just start walking.
As a child and teenager, walking was my solace. It was the only way I could escape my house and the chaos my mum brought to it. After, when I'd moved to the U.S. with my dad, it was how I dealt with missing home and the crushing loneliness I felt. Putting the earth underneath my feet and taking in the scenery grounded me.
Sure, sometimes it took walking for an hour—or two … or three—before I felt better, but it usually helped. Though I choose to be on my own now, I generally don't feel the loneliness that plagued me as a child. Back then, all I wanted was connection.
Now that I have the choice, I choose to be self-sufficient and self-reliant. At least I know I won't let myself down.
Yet right now, those old feelings of want and desire rise up, filling my chest with a tightness I don't want. I keep walking. I walk until it's pitch black and I'm too knackered to keep going. I manage to slide into my dorm room without anyone noticing me, and slip off to a quick sleep.
But in the morning, that tightness and unease is still there. It's got to be the stress of this show. I thought last season was bad, but it's in our hands if this show makes it to Broadway. If it does, there's a good chance that some of our cast may have an advantage with getting parts. And maybe, just maybe, it'll solidify business for The Edison so Grayson and I won't have to stress over each and every ticket sale.
Some security'd be nice.
And if The Edison were more successful, we could do it year round. I could give up my dump of an overpriced apartment and live here permanently.
I wish I felt confident enough in The Edison to do that. I wish she were that successful.
Maybe if I had that assurance of success here, I wouldn't feel empty.
As I think it, I realize that's what's wrong. That's the feeling inside my chest. Emptiness.
Which is daft because I have a full life. I have the theatre, which keeps me busier than possible during the season. I have some friends. I …
I have an empty life.
Better to be empty than to try and pour endlessly and futilely into a broken vessel. That's what Mum did. One man after another. Men she met through work. Bad men. Terrible people who used her up and spat her out. Men who hit her. Men who demeaned her. Men who made her think she was so useless until she was.
I'd rather be alone than give someone that power over me.
I will fill my life with work. Lord knows there's enough to keep me busy.
"Good morning everyone. Let's start with choreo today. We'll do 'This is Me.' Jasmine and Levi, you keep working on your stuff. Josh will be available to go over the song in a little while with you if you want. Marcelina, go with Grayson and Josh to work on 'A Million Dreams.' The kids will be here at nine to rehearse. Okay everyone, we've lots to do and little time."
I pour over my notes, writing down ideas for staging. I used to be able to do it all in my head, but now my mind is a swirling vortex.
"What are you doing?" Grayson nudges me.
"You're supposed to be working. Leave me alone."
"No, man, what are you doing? Tabitha's the only one not doing anything. Again," he whispers. "This is her second day and you've yet to run anything with her in it."
I shrug. "She's not in much of the show. I can't help it. You're the one who switched her. Her number isn't until the finale of act one. We're not there yet." I glance over, but she's absorbed in her phone. Something catches my attention up on the stage and my focus shifts. An hour later, I look out into the audience, but Tabitha's seat is empty.
Great. She's probably flaked off.
I don't blame her. I'd flake out on me too.
I'll talk to her about it later. I've too much to do. This show is too big. I'm not sure how we're going to pull it together. We only have one more hour of this rehearsal before we have to switch toKiss Me, Kate. Three more days of double rehearsals and then I can re-focus on this show.
Who am I kidding? Knowing that I can see her anytime, I'll never be able to focus with Tabitha around. Every time I close my eyes, I see her naked beneath me. I hear her voice in my head. Her laughter wakes me from dreams during those precious few times that I can sleep.
That laughter is what permeates my ears now. I snap to attention like a dog that's heard an intruder.
What's she laughing at? Who is making her laugh? Why isn't it me?
I walk—okay, I run—out to the lobby to see Tabitha in a crowd of people, none of whom I recognize. There's a rugged-looking man, wearing faded jeans and cowboy boots next to a non-descript brunette wearing an oversized floral shirt. A girl—maybe a teenager—is engrossed in her phone. She looks like the non-descript brunette. Additionally, there's a bald bloke in skinny jeans.
