I wish Mum had been a little more like that.
Mum would have let me—did let me—lie awake in my bed while she was entertaining a guest in the next room.
I stand up, prepared to slide out unnoticed; an act I'd perfected in my early years. Then I stop. I need to tell her good-bye. To say good night. To close the evening without just slipping away as I'd done before.
Tentatively, I walk upstairs. To the right is a sitting area lined with bookcases and a door. To the left is a short hallway with more doors. Prolly two bedrooms and a loo, if I had to guess. I try the door to the right, knocking softly.
"Yes?" Tabitha's voice is soft and faint.
Slowly I open the door, peeking in. Tabitha's sitting up in a large oak four-poster bed, her daughter curled in tight to her side. "It's just me. I … I'm leaving, and I wanted to say a proper good-bye instead of sliding out like I normally do."
She smiles, squinting a little. Her voice is barely audible. "I think we're both good at sliding out, and both terrible at a proper good-bye. I'd get up but …" She looks down at her child, nestled and still. "I think she just dozed back off."
"Right. Jas's wound is bad, and she's out of the show. So, well, things are a disaster now and … well, I don't know what's going to happen. " I shrug uselessly. That's how I feel right now. Useless. For Tabitha. For The Edison. For it all.
"I don't either. I'm sorry I can't help. That I can't be there for you." She tilts her head toward Paisley. "I don't know how to balance this. I don't know how to do anything."
I give her a tight smile. "That makes two of us. Maybe we just … see. Things are going to be bonkers for a bit. I'm not sure how we're even going to pull this off now but …" I shrug again. I'm going to pull a muscle in my shoulders if I keep doing that. "It's like the universe is conspiring to keep us apart. I'm not sure if we should listen or fight."
I've never wanted to fight for a relationship before. Mostly because I've never had one worth fighting for.
It's not until I’m outside that I realize I walked here. The last thing I want to do is walk back to The Edison now. It's got to be at least five miles. My arms are covered in mozzie bites, and I'm knackered.
I wish I hadn't told Tabitha I was leaving. I could have asked to crash on the sofa. I'm sure she would have said yes. It's too late, so I trudge along the dark road until I reach The Edison. Why does it have to be located on a bloody hill?
Still, the walking's given me some time to think about what to do with the show. Wasn't there someone else who indicated some aerial skills on their application? There weren't many who checked that box, but I seem to remember that someone else did. Jasmine was a natural choice, having been with us for the past two seasons. In the winter months, she teaches aerial classes. Grayson and I never considered anyone else for the role of Annie. Nor did we consider needing an understudy.
Obviously foolish.
As I shuffle the last few steps into my dorm room, I briefly consider going over to the office to look at the applications. The odds of this working out in our favor are slimmer than a 90s fashion model.
Our imminent failure can wait a few more hours.
Chapter 31: Tabitha
Ineed to call him, but I don't want to.
I hate calling Jonathan Spencer Maxwell on a good day, and I don't think he has too many good days these days. It's been hard to discern what kind of shape he's in, but when I hear 'brain injury,' I tend to think the worst.
But I need to find out. For Paisley.
At the last minute, I chicken out and dial Anastasia instead. I don't mind going through her. In fact, I'd rather her know everything that's going on so she doesn't think I'm up to no good. I don't want her to think that I'm trying to carry on behind her back or anything.
Damn it. Voicemail.
"Hi, Anastasia. It's Tabitha Stetson." Duh. Like she doesn't know me. "I, um, well, I was calling to check in on Jon—" I force myself to stop and not say his full name. "Um, Paisley was asking for him. She's missing him and is still a little freaked out from the accident. So, yeah, just checking in. 'K, bye!"
I certainly live up to the reputation of the ditzy blonde. I can practically see Anastasia Jerome rolling her eyes as she listens to the message.
The thought of eye rolls makes me think about Henderson, who could win an Olympic medal for eye rolling. I wonder how he's doing. Should I call him? No, he said he's going to be busy with theater stuff. I should let him call me when he has the chance.
I mean, I'll see him in an hour at rehearsal anyway. Surely I can wait.
Almost immediately, my phone rings. Anastasia.
"Hello Tabitha. How nice to hear from you. I've been thinking about Paisley."
"Um, yeah. Well we're back in New York for a few weeks. Upstate. Not the city," I quickly add in at the end. "You remember I'm doing a show out here."
