Chapter 40
I learned in school that where auditions are concerned, the best thing to do is to go in, do your best, and then forget about
it.
That method has never worked for me. I tend to dwell and wring my hands and worry, desperate for news about the parts I really
want.
But after I send Britta my video, I forget about it. Not because I don’t care, but because things are so busy with the show—the
prep, the last-minute checklists. So two days later I realize I never even told Daisy about it.
But maybe it’s better that way.
I like this novel idea of taking a less desperate, more measured approach to my career. It’s like I’ve made my peace with
all of it, and if this one doesn’t work out, something else will. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have options.
We’re on a ten-minute break during rehearsal, and I glance up and find Grace and Connie walking through the transformation
scene. The costumes have all been repaired or replaced, thanks to Ginny’s recruitment efforts, which basically consisted of
knocking on every single door in Sunset Hills and asking if anyone knew how to sew.
We now have eight new seamstresses, all of whom said they had so much fun they can’t wait for the next show.
Somehow, word got out that I’ve been offered a job here, and while I’m still mulling it over, most of the cast and crew have let me know their feelings on the subject.
Belinda said, and I quote, “Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, I suppose.”
I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve thought about how I could be happy here. I like the people, and the conditions of my employment
are next-level amazing. Not many jobs offer room and board and late-night kitchen raids as perks.
But then I think about how it felt to film that audition. I think about the prospect of performing in a play I’ve wanted to
do since I was eighteen. I think about how it felt to tap into what that character was really feeling during that speech.
Evolve my dream in Sunset Hills.
Rekindle my passion in Chicago.
It’s the age-old question that The Clash sang about in the eighties.
Should I stay or should I go?
***
Three days later, I wake up with nervous jitters in my stomach and a beautiful bouquet of roses on my counter.
I’m about to see if there’s a card when Daisy pops out of her room. “They’re from Booker,” she singsongs.
I smile. “Was he here this morning?”
“He had to work early, so he dropped them off on the way,” she says. “I canceled all the events for the weekend and have two
big groups doing dinner and a show.” She shrugs her shoulders in perky excitement. “I cannot wait to see all your hard work pay off!”
I scrub a hand down my face and pour myself a cup of coffee.
“Have you... thought any more about what you’re going to do? About the job offer?” Daisy asks tentatively.
I pour cream into my cup and take a drink. “I’ve thought about it a lot actually.”
“And?” Her eyes are hopeful.
“And I still don’t know.” I sigh. “Stability is appealing. But so is acting. I love it here, but I also love being on the
stage. I’m not sure I’m ready to give that up yet.” I can tell something is shifting, like I’m on the cusp of a big change—I
just don’t know what that looks like.
Daisy leans against the counter. “Your housemate is ah-mazing,” she croons. “That’s in the pro column, right?”
“Absolutely.”
She grins. “Really, Rosie, whatever you decide, I’m going to cheer you on.”
“Thanks.” I study her as she sits down and pulls on her shoes. If I do go, I’ll really miss her. In just a few months, she’s
become a real friend to me.
“I’ll see you tonight.” She rushes out the door, and I laugh as I hear the tires squeal when she peels away. I can’t imagine
what that girl is like behind the wheel of a real car.
I stand in the living room, holding my coffee and staring out over the common space. It’s peaceful—a calm before the opening-night
storm. All of the details have been taken care of. Everything we could’ve done has been done.
The theatre has been as repaired as it’s going to get, though we’re now performing on subfloor without a curtain in the middle
of the stage.
All that’s left to do is show up and deliver a speech that builds confidence in my cast, many of whom are undoubtedly full
of nerves today. And once that’s finished, I’ll get to sit back and watch as the hours and days and weeks of hard work finally
pay off.
My phone buzzes, and I find a text from Connie.
Connie: Rosie! We are all sold out for the entire run. No tickets left at all! I hope everyone you know already bought their seats!
My eyes go wide just looking at the words. We’re sold out?
Rosie: For real?!
Connie: I guess we’d better do a good job, huh?
We’re sold out.
It’s almost like it’s real now.
A new wave of excited terror washes over me.
Connie: You did good, Rosie. I hope you celebrate!
I shower and get ready, and a little before noon, there’s a knock on my door.
I rush out to it, pull it open, and find my three best friends standing there, all of them looking like they’re holding their
breath. We erupt in a wild fit of excitement, screams, hugs, maybe a few tears, all of us talking at the same time.
“I’m so glad my instructions made sense!” I say, hugging each one of them.
“Yeah, no, they didn’t,” Maya says. “We had to stop at the desk in that clubhouse. This place is fancy.”
I go to hug Marnie, but she holds up a hand. “Still not a hugger.”
“I don’t care.” I hug her stiff body anyway. “I’ve missed you. And that favor you called in saved our show. I just heard we’re
sold out!”
“Sold out, Rosie, that’s amazing!” Maya says.
“Can I use your bathroom?” Taylor has one hand on her protruding belly, the other on her back.
“You’ve, uh, grown,” I say, moving out of the doorway so she can come in.
“I know. I’m as big as a barn. And I have to pee every forty-five seconds.”
“You can watch the show from the back with me,” I say.
“Bathroom?” She looks like she might actually burst.
“Down the hall.” I point, and she rushes off.
“This place is adorable,” Maya says. “And you get to stay here for free?”
“It’s a perk of the job,” I say. “Crazy, right?”
I show them my room, the patio, the common area, and a photo of Daisy and Louie that’s stuck to the fridge. “She’s my housemate.
You guys will love her.”
“As long as you don’t love her as much as you love us,” Maya says.
I grin, and the smile drops off her face.
“I’m serious,” she says.
“Nobody could ever replace you three,” I say. “Let me give you a campus tour.”
We decide to walk over to the dining hall to get some lunch, and I show them all the highlights along the way. I tell them
about line dancing and point out the park bench where I found Dylan sitting a couple of days after I arrived. I even take
them to the spot where I ran the cart off the road and into the mud, explaining that Booker pulled me out, which Maya finds
terribly romantic.
We reach the dining hall, pick up trays, move through the line, and once we sit, I glance up to find my friends looking at
me. “What?”
Taylor smiles. “It’s like you’re back to your old self.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Ro, you didn’t think you were fooling us, did you?” Maya asks. “You haven’t been yourself for a while.”
I meet Marnie’s eyes, remembering our phone call. I should’ve known I couldn’t fool any of them. They all know me too well.
I don’t ever want to take their friendship for granted again.
“It’s just good to see you happy.” Taylor reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Why is everyone here old?” Maya asks, and not quietly.
Beside us, a table of ladies shoot her a look.
“Maya,” Marnie says.
“Sorry.” Maya widens her eyes unapologetically. “But seriously, Rosie, why?”
I check my emotional pulse, then say, “It’s a retirement community.”
Maya is mid-drink and chokes on her Diet Coke. “What?”
Taylor frowns. “You spent the summer living in a retirement community?”
Marnie smiles at me because, of course, she already knows this.
“I spent the summer directing a show for senior citizens.” I pop a french fry in my mouth.
“So Cinderella is... old?” Maya winces, as if this thought has left a sour taste in her mouth. But I’m not offended because
before I saw Grace, I was doubtful too.
“She’s... seasoned,” I say. “And brilliant. Voice like an angel. You’re going to love her.”
“I think it’s awesome,” Marnie says. “There was a big flood in the theatre, and Rosie handled it like a champ. Rallied the
troops and got the local news out here to do a story on the production.”
“I’ve learned so much being here.” I look at them, one at a time, and I remind myself that these three believe in me. They
want to cheer me on. They’re for me—maybe more than anyone else in my life.
“The truth is, when I got here, I was pretty close to quitting,” I say.
“Quitting what?” Taylor takes a bite of her sandwich while Maya crunches kettle chips beside me.
“Auditioning. Performing. New York.” I shrug. “Everything.”
A double take from Taylor. “Really?”
I nod. “It’s hard when your big dream doesn’t come true.” I go quiet for a moment. “But I think I was thinking too small.”
“You never think small,” Marnie says. “You’ve always been the world conqueror.”
“But I haven’t,” I say. “Not really. I mean, I wanted to be. I tried to be. Even pretended to be. But it turns out, I couldn’t do it. Not that way at least. Thinking that there
was only one way to make my dream come true was silly. This place showed me I can be happy anywhere if I’m doing what I love
with people I love.”
“Like your boy,” Maya says.
I shake my head. “No, like my man .”
We erupt into giggles then, but once the laughter falls away, I’m left in the middle of an admission I should’ve made years
ago.
“You guys, I’ve been pretending. A lot ,” I say. “I didn’t want you to worry about me, but I also didn’t want anyone to think I was a failure. I didn’t want to admit