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I pinch my arm to stay awake; this has been the longest hour and a half of my life.
“The vortex sucks…” a tall skinny guy with blue polka dots on his face tells the audience as he paints a black circle on a white canvas board. I have no idea what or who he is supposed to be. He turns to look at the audience dramatically, his face contorted, and I wonder if he needs the toilet. He’s holding himself in such an awkward position that I fear he might relieve himself onstage. “And the vortex sucks and sucks,” he shouts into the small room and starts stomping his feet. I press my lips together to stop from laughing. “It sucks…” he shouts again.
“And so does this play.” Elise doesn’t bother to whisper this time, and I see a few people in front of us, looking around and glaring. “Am I lying?” Her face is defiant and I try not to groan as she shrugs and stares down an older lady in front of us. She’s utterly unbothered that she’s being a disturbance in the audience. “Yes, Karen?” she asks the older lady, who turns back around and I let out a deep breath to stop myself from telling her off.
Elise is twenty-five and one of the rudest and most unaware women I know. Not that I don’t love her. She’s my sister, and I would do anything for her, but her self-obsession can be taxing. She lives as if she were a contestant on a reality TV show, which makes sense because her dream is to be a reality star. Which is a pretty low goal if you ask me, but I try not to be too judgmental.
I’m all about her living out her dreams, aside from the fact that she has two kids, whom I think she should be setting a better example for. But then again, I suppose that’s why I let them move in with Lila and me. At least we were good examples, okay, goodish examples, to two young impressionable minds. Or at least better than Elise would have been by herself.
I try to suppress a sigh at what a mistake that had been. Even though moving in with Lila and me had been the best move for them, my life turned into a hot mess upon their arrival.
“Elise, stop.” I reach over, grab her hand, and squeeze tightly. I do not care if it hurts. Sometimes, being the bigger sister comes with perks. “Do not ruin Lila’s moment.”
“Pretty hard to ruin something this bad,” she mumbles, but she’s quieter now. She nods and sits back in her chair, and I let out a small sigh of relief. Elise can be a bitch, but she tries to be better around people she loves. Those people are: me, Lila, and her kids, Luke and Charlotte, who are only six and four, respectively.
I stare back at the stage, grateful that Lila is now singing her song about meeting a man on the moon while doing cartwheels. Not because this is a better part of the play, but because I know this song comes toward the end. I’ve spent the last month helping Lila practice her lines and know the play well. I hoped the production would somehow turn around the bad script, but it hasn’t. Everything about the production is a failure, but at least it means a weekly paycheck for Lila. We need the money, especially after the week I’ve had.
“I’m curious. Do you think I’m a hottie?” The tall blond man to my left whispers in my ear as soon as the play ends and the brief applause is done. There are also a couple of loud boos as well that make me feel bad for Lila, but they don’t last too long. And that’s because the audience is rushing out in droves. People are practically pushing past each other to leave like they’ve been told there’s a snake or alligator in the theater.
Not a good sign.
I look over at the man in surprise; his bright blue eyes are mischievous, and I’m able to see him better now that the lights are back on. He’s handsome in that frat boy, I can chug five beers while telling you how great and accomplished I am way.
“Sorry, what?” I issue him a small smile, enough to be friendly but not friendly enough to show interest. I am not interested in bros. Not because I don’t find them attractive. Most of them are super hot, but more because I don’t need the drama they bring into my life. And trust me when I say they bring drama that’s akin to a daytime soap. At least Matt, my ex, who was the president of his frat in college, definitely made my life young and restless.
“I heard your friend saying I was hot.” Frat bro brushes back his floppy blond hair and gives me his most dazzling smile. He has perfect, even white teeth, and I wonder if they are real. “I was wondering if you agree.”
I hate that he has asked me that question. I don’t want to hurt his feelings and tell him never in a million years and not for a billion dollars would I even look in his direction. Men like him should come with a caution warning: Beware: touching this item may lead to months of drama and heartache.
I’ve been there and quite literally already done that. I still have the scars from the many battles I’ve been a part of, and I’m not interested in returning to war.
“That’s my sister.” I turn to her and touch her on the arm. “Elise, he heard you.” I watch as she turns to me, her dazzling hazel eyes looking more green with the subtle golden eye shadow she’s wearing. Her hair hangs long, straight, and black down her back, with streaks of red. She looks gorgeous, and she knows it. I turn back to frat bro and see that he feels the same way as he takes her in. Elise is a stunner, and he’s mesmerized. She also always dresses to emphasize what she’s got. Which is the complete opposite of me. She wants attention. I shy away from it.
For example, I’m wearing mom jeans with a plaid shirt and oxford boots. My curly, slightly frizzy black hair is in a ponytail, and my brown eyes look tired with no mascara or eye shadow. I think I look fine for a late-night play. Conversely, Elise is wearing stiletto heels, a tank top with no bra, and tight leather pants. The outfit is totally inappropriate for the occasion, but it gets her admiring looks from men, so that’s all she cares about.
“Wow, you’re gorgeous.” Frat bro no longer cares about me as he brushes past me without even a polite “excuse me,” and I can see his tongue hanging out as he gapes at Elise. She’s beaming now, no longer annoyed that I dragged her to this play. Even though I was the one who convinced our neighbor to babysit the kids so she could have a night off. However, I know a night off to Elise includes partying and drinking until all hours of the night, not sitting through a boring-ass play that never should have found its way to the stage.
Though, I would never tell Lila that. At least she’s pursuing her dreams. Unlike me, who is in the unenviable position of having been laid off from my tedious office job at a commercial real estate company just this morning. They told me it was due to the crappy economy, but it still sucks. I hadn’t enjoyed the job, but it had been a stable income. Which is certainly needed when you live in New York City.
I try not to let momentary panic take over as I think about the stack of bills on the dining room table. Elise is between jobs as per usual, her child support is minimal, and Lila got this play after being out of work for four months. I can only hope and pray that the critics disagree with me and think that the playwright is the Shakespeare of the twenty-first century, but I very much doubt it. I don’t know how to tell Lila and Elise that I will not be able to cover rent for the next couple of months like I told them last month. As I watch my sister, carefree and laughing with frat bro, I decide to wait until the next day to tell her and Lila my bad news.
“Zara!” Lila comes squealing toward me, her face excited and flushed. Dead brown leaves fall off her head as she stops next to me, and I give her a quick hug. “What did you think?” Her effervescent blue eyes are bright, and I can tell she’s on an adrenaline high.
“You were great.” I squeeze her hands and smile broadly. “You were the star of the show.”
“You’re too nice.” She’s buzzing as she looks around. “I think everyone enjoyed it. Elise, what did you think?” She turns to my sister, who’s looking up at frat bro like he’s all her dreams come true. Lila looks over at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “Who’s the guy?” She raises an eyebrow. “She brought a date with her?”
“No, he’s just some guy who was sitting next to me.” I roll my eyes. “You know, Elise.”
“Yes, and I need her to teach me her ways.” Lila looks on in wonderment at the scene unfolding before her. “Shoot, I need her to teach you her ways as well.” She finally notices the rapidly emptying room. “The other cast members are going to go out for a drink. Do you want to join us?”
“I don’t know…” I bite down on my lip. I cannot afford to go out drinking. I don’t have the money. I don’t want the hangover tomorrow. And I’m not in the mood.
“Come on, Zara,” she pleads, giving me her best puppy dog eyes. Lila and I have been best friends since we were seven, and she secretly shared a pack of M&Ms with me in an art class. “It’ll be fun.”
“Fun on a Wednesday?” I want to slap myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I’ve turned into an old fart at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. “Fine, one drink.”
“Of course.” I can tell from the gleam in Leila’s eye that one drink will be five. At this point, I’m resigned to the fact that my comfortable bed will elude me for a few more hours. “Elise, we’re going for a drink,” Lila calls out to her again. “Coming?”
