“Yeah, I was thinking about it. I don’t know.”
Picking at the plastic of the cup again, I refuse to lift my eyes to Jade’s. The intensity of her gaze is almost too much.How does Jessie deal with this all the time?
“Ugh. It is exhausting when people don’t just do whatever the fuck they want. Who gives a shit what your dad thinks? Is that all that’s holding you back?”
It’s hard to articulate exactly what’s holding me back. I want to go, but what’s the point? Participating in this doesn’t earn me any respect from my father. It doesn’t earn me any respect with my brothers, and it certainly won’t be how I live up to the Baldwin name.
But what has that ever gotten me? What has the pursuit of my father’s respect earned me except the silent treatment when I inevitably mess up again and don’t meet his expectations?
Maybe it’s time to actually do something I want for once.
“Tomorrow?” I ask.
“Seven o’clock in the theater.”
“Is Jessie going?”
If she is I probably shouldn’t go, and I think Jade knows that too. She shakes her head.
“I’ll be there,” I say.
* * *
I’m too earlyfor the improv event, but I’ve been swinging between anxiety and feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival since yesterday when Jade and I parted ways.
It’s the first time since my fight with Jessie that I’ve looked forward to waking up; that I’ve had something to look forward to instead of dread. I might be clinging too tightly to this thing, but if I don’t, who knows when I’ll get out of this dark place?
I barely slept last night, but this time it was event-related, not “I’m a jerk who ruined my relationship”-related. I had two classes today, and in between them I just paced campus, waiting for time to move faster. I probably looked crazy, walking past the theater building three or four times before walking away. I finally ended up in the library but had trouble focusing on studying. I was on high alert for Jessie but never saw her, and I couldn’t stop wondering what the event tonight would be like.
What if I got the chance to go on stage? Would I be any good? I dream up about three hundred scenarios, ones where I get on stage and absolutely kill it, and some where I go up there and freeze. I’m a pendulum swinging uncontrollably between extremes.
By the time 6:30 p.m. rolls around, I’m staring at the doors of the theater, unable to wait any longer despite the fact I’ll be way too early. I take a deep breath and pull open the door, trying to ignore my dad’s voice in my head.
Some people are milling about in the lobby, but I don’t see Jade, so I follow the signs posted for the improv event. They take me down a set of stairs into a much darker part of the building where Jessie and I watched the one-act plays. This basement-type area holds a stage too, and it’s much smaller. There are probably less than two hundred seats down here and nearly everything is black—the ceiling, the walls, the stands holding the chairs. It feels simultaneously cozy and empty. Although, once the seats are filled, it will probably feel very intimate.
I didn’t think much of the size of this space when I was watching a show, but picturing myself on the stage and being able to see people’s faces in the audience makes my mouth dry. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.
I know I shouldn’t have arrived as early as I did. No one is in the audience, but students rush about the room setting things up. Still no sign of Jade. I’ll wait in the lobby. She’s sure to find me there.
On my way back up, a side room with a small loft area catches my eye. There’s a booth at the bottom of the loft with a small countertop housing a board, maybe for sound. A pair of headphones sits on the chair, waiting for their human counterpart. Above the small booth is the loft, cramped stairs leading up to a space that looks so small no one could stand up there. There’s another counter up there in front of a small window where two people are chatting, but they don’t notice me, so I sneak back out before I get accused of being somewhere I shouldn’t be.
I’m just leaving the room when I hear my name off to the side.
“Mac, hey! You’re super early,” Jade says. She’s coming from a hallway that leads to who knows where. She greets me with a casual slap on the arm.
“Yeah, sorry. I—”
“Let me introduce you to some people,” she says.
She introduces me to so many people, all their names kind of blur together. There’s a Seth, a Jay, and an Anastasia, Kylie, Kristie, Sheila, Carter, Nate, Josh, and at least ten more people, none of whom I could identify in a crowd. And these are just the people in the stage and backstage area.
I glance up at the small window that peeks into the loft, where the two people I saw earlier are still sitting. There’s a thin blond guy who looks like he’s sitting in a clown car he’s so tall and a shorter redheaded girl.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know their names,” Jade says with a brief glance up at the booth. “Tech majors.”
I mingle with Jade and her theater friends until students finally start to trickle in and take seats. I take one in the first row, just in case I feel brave enough.
