Chapter 10
Ellie
M
y stomach is in knots, and I feel slightly nervous as I set my things on the table that sits directly in front of the stage. It’s audition day, and even though I’m not the one auditioning, I still feel like I could throw up.
I can literally feel the nerves radiating off of my students. Auditioning is kind of like standing on the edge of a cliff with your eyes closed and waiting to either fall to your death or fly.
Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but where better to be overly dramatic than the theatre? Speaking of dramatics, I stupidly left out a plate of pasta for Jamie last night.
Why the hell did I do that? I don’t care if he eats or not. But something in me was telling me that he’d probably be hungry after the long bus ride home. Curse me being an empath.
What I wasn’t expecting was the note he left me.
‘Thanks. J.’
I mean, what is that? He didn’t need to say anything. He could have just eaten the freaking food and left it alone. But he left a note. I don’t know why that feels so… significant, but it does. It feels like an olive branch. A creaky, old, chipped, weak branch, but a branch, nonetheless. Lainey is going to lose it when I tell her what I did. One thing about my best friend is she’s unforgiving. She holds grudges, for a long time.
Once when we were kids, she’d let me borrow her scooter. Well, I was riding said scooter and hit a rock. I’d fallen off, but not before bringing that damn scooter with me. It got all scuffed up, and she was pissed. She didn’t talk to me for three whole weeks. She still brings it up to this day.
Okay, I really need to focus today. No more thoughts about Jamie and his stupid note. This is my first real task as a director, and I do not want to fuck it up.
The stage is a blank canvas. No sets or costumes, just a plain old stage with long red curtains and a lot of potential. The sounds of students practicing lines, pacing the room, and doing vocal warmups fills the large space.
What people don’t realize is how gruelling the audition process can be. When you buy tickets to a show, you don’t think of how the actors got their parts or the work that needed to be put into it.
You see this perfectly polished, rehearsed show in front of you, and you have no idea the hard work, blood, sweat and tears that were put into getting it that way. That’s the point. That would take your audience right out of that fantasy world that you’re trying to portray.
Once I’m all set up and ready go, I begin to call students up one at a time. The first audition is rough. The second is worse. The third surprises me in a good way. I jot notes quickly, my mind already reshuffling possibilities. It’s exhilarating and exhausting all at once, watching these students bare themselves for three minutes at a time. For a fleeting moment, I wish I were them. Auditioning for a new show and feeling the hope and drive they’re feeling right now. Although, I’m kind of enjoying being on this side of things.
The morning flies by in a blur of monologues and half-sung songs, and only a few mental breakdowns. I would say this went really well for my first time holding auditions. These kids really have the heart for this, and I absolutely love that. I offered notes, encouragement, and smiles when I could tell someone was nervous.
By noon, my coffee is cold and my voice is hoarse. During my lunch break, I sit alone on the edge of the stage, flipping through my notebook. Names circle my brain, refusing to stay neatly assigned.
Casting is like a puzzle. One wrong piece and the whole picture feels off.
My phone buzzes on the stage next to me.
Main Bitch
Main Bitch: How’s auditions?
Me: I’m still alive. Barely. Send more caffeine...
Main Bitch: I’m sending my good vibes. Haven’t gotten an update on he who shall not be named. You haven’t fallen back into his lap, have you?
That makes my smile falter, because the truth is that I don’t hate him as fiercely today.
Me: I left him a plate of food last night.
Main Bitch: You did what now?
Me: He had an away game. He got home late, so I just left him some left over pasta. I was gonna throw it out anyway…
Main Bitch: Oh, Jesus El. You don’t need to feed him!
Me: He left a note…
Three little dots appear as Lainey types back her reply. I knew she’d freak about the food. It’s like me saying ‘hey, I forgive you. You can fuck me now.’
Main Bitch: A note?! What the hell did it say?
Me: “Thanks. J.”
Main Bitch: That’s it?
Me: Yes…
Main Bitch: What the hell?
Me: I know.
Students begin to filter back into the auditorium, and I quickly tuck my phone away before I can spiral and stand, rolling my shoulders. Work first. Always.
Auditions finish just before dusk. I thank the last student and close the door, the sudden silence ringing in my ears. My body feels heavy, but it’s the good kind of tired, the kind where you feel like you’ve worked the hardest you possibly could.
My walk home is quiet. The light breeze is cold and unforgiving, but the fresh air feels nice on my skin. When I arrive back at the house, I pause before unlocking the door. What if he’s right there? What will I say to him? Do I want to see him?
Slowly, I unlock the door and push it open. Light from the foyer envelops me as I step inside the warm home. I set my bag down on the floor before removing my coat and shoes. As I make my way into the kitchen to begin dinner, I hear laughter. Jamie’s laughter.
I pause.
It’s different from how I remember it. Deeper, more masculine. It catches me off guard.
Jamie’s sprawled on the couch, his bad leg stretched out carefully, watching something on TV. He looks so relaxed. My chest warms. He’s looked like he’s had this huge weight on his shoulders since he got here. This is the first time I’ve seen him not so stressed. I can understand why he’d feel so burdened. Being stripped of the thing you love can do that to a person.
He looks up suddenly, obviously hearing me walk into the room. Sitting up slowly, a toothy smile appears on his face. I recognize that smile, and my heart skips.
“There she is,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “You survived?”
“I did,” I reply, releasing a long sigh.
“That bad, huh?”
“That good,” I correct. “Which is somehow worse.”
I head into the kitchen, instinct pulling me there. He follows, hovering in the doorway like he’s not sure he’s invited. He wasn’t, but for some reason, I don’t tell him not to.
I pull out a water from the fridge, popping the cap off and taking a small sip. Jamie leans against the counter, watching me carefully as if any move he makes could spook me and I’ll run. To be fair, I don’t know if he’d be wrong in thinking that.
“I’m sure you did great,” Jamie says simply, as if it’s not possible that I could fail at anything. My cheeks heat and I just know they’re red which makes me blush more with embarrassment.
“Thanks…” I tell him, looking down at the counter. I fidget with a crumb as we stand there in an awkward silence.
“Ellie,” he begins, slowly taking a step toward me. I back away, a little too quickly, and begin pulling ingredients from the fridge.
“How was practice?” I ask, trying to change the path of conversation. I could tell whatever he was about to say would have brought my mood down, and I do not want to feel sad right now. I had a good day, and I will not let him ruin it. He stops in his tracks.
“Great,” he shrugs. “They’re terrible.”
I snort. “Promising start.”
“I told them if they keep skating like that, I’m switching them to ballet.”
I pause mid-reach. “You did not.”
“I totally did.”
We both chuckle before our eyes meet and my heart stops. The way he looks at me is so intense. I hate it. I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Like I’m willing to forgive him and let him ravage me. I think he can tell that my resolve is wavering because he looks like he wants to do exactly that.
He stands straight and grabs his jacket off the back of one of the chairs at the island. “I’m heading out. Team thing.”
It’s so sudden, I don’t know how to react. It’s like he feels like he has to remove himself from this situation before he does something he’ll regret. Something we might both regret.
“Okay…” I say timidly.
He hesitates by the door, then turns. “Hey, Ellie?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t look like someone who almost ran away screaming after week one.”
I blink. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You look… solid. Like you landed where you’re supposed to.”
The compliment causes butterflies to erupt in my gut, and I feel like I lose all train of thought.
“Thanks,” I reply.
He nods, satisfied, and heads out. Once he’s gone, the house feels… emptier. I can’t explain it, but I almost wish he didn’t have to go.
Leaning against the counter, I stare at nothing, my heart doing that annoying, traitorous flutter again.
This version of Jamie, this playful, confident, version that’s not asking for forgiveness is far more dangerous than the broken one. This version makes me forget why I built walls in the first place.