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“So what are you going to do to celebrate?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“Things won’t be completely done for several weeks yet. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“It’s called ‘thinking it into being,’” she says. “It’s good to move forward with something as if it’s going to happen.”
“Thinking it into being?”
“Well, that’s my super technical term, yes.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Or I guess we can just say ‘manifesting.’ But come on. I’m serious. How did you get to be so successful without thinking positively about the company’s growth?”
“I guess I’m trying to be realistic.”
She nods. “Yeah. But after working so hard on this, it’s getting close. You could reward yourself with dreaming for a moment. What are you going to do when this is signed, sealed, and delivered?”
“Give the keys to the renovation company and then hopefully sign the next acquisitions or new builds for Tate International.”
She crosses her arms. “So no celebrating?”
“I mean, if it came to that, then sure.”
“If it came to that? Celebrating your wins doesn’t need to sound so morbid. Like taking out the trash.”
“What would you do to celebrate a big milestone in your life?”
“Well, when I get enough in grant money for the Capistrano Players, I will have something to celebrate.”
And she’ll go back to Dana Point. I continue to pace, letting my legs fill with blood once again.
“The theater on the beach,” I say. “It’s pretty important to you, huh?”
She smiles like the California sun. “The most important physical possession in this world. It’s my spirit playhouse. A part of me.”
“So, you wouldn’t have a need to celebrate necessarily when you get the house, because you’ll already have the prize.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes grow wide. “So, is that how you feel about the Deca Arete? It’s prize enough.”
“You got it. Prize enough.” I chew on my bottom lip. “But beyond that. Not a reward, but more of a dream. What would you do? What’s a dream of yours?”
“I dream of making my parents proud of me.” Her gaze is trained on the floor and she shifts her weight once, from side to side.
“I can’t imagine them not being proud of you.”
“I’m their only daughter. I can’t tell you how many times they’ve called me a free spirit like it’s something they’re embarrassed about.” She scrunches up her nose. “I have a master’s degree, I’ve secured tens of thousands of dollars in grants for the Capistrano Players, and I’ve worked for some of the largest, most well-respected stage productions in the state of California, but they’re not into the arts very much.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know how well it would go over if I told her I’d like to give her blind, uninvolved parents a piece of my mind.
“Anyway, you asked me about a dream, and in addition to making my parents proud, I have something else I want to do.” She grins, and pinpricks of light shift somewhere deep in my soul.
“Stratford-upon-Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Theater. And then on to London to the Globe theater—the replica they built a while back. I will go someday.” She shoots out a breath and fans her face. “I’m getting teary-eyed just thinking about it.”
“Your face just lit up.”
“Shakespeare is why I majored in Theater History,” she says.
“So, I can’t convince you to stay and be my assistant forever?” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But she’s got to understand how much she’s come to mean to me in this short time.
She laughs, but then catches my glance. She recovers her features, and just like that, my heart sinks. Of course she’d never stay. And would I want her to?
The company is better for her being here. She’s got a vibe that we need. But as long as she’s my assistant, I couldn’t take her on a date, I couldn’t get to know her better.
