Chapter 24
Three weeks until Opening Night
We have two weeks of rehearsal left before tech week, and finally we’ve hit our stride.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a three-ring circus: You have the fairies, the lovers, and the mechanicals, each mostly in their own world with some overlaps.
It’s starting to come together, not just in concrete ways with set building and decoration and costume fittings, but also, the scenes are getting tighter.
People know their lines, mostly, and we are moving past the messy middle toward something that resembles a real play.
I haven’t been in a play since theater school, not really.
I had forgotten the sense of community, that magic of things coming together, inching toward a common goal.
On set, we were so compartmentalized; there were members of the cast I only met at wrap parties.
Nick, for example: Our scene schedules never overlapped.
I made my contribution and left. Here, there is a swell of togetherness; all these parts need to come together at once for it to work.
The stakes are higher. There is no fixing it in post. That’s the magic of it.
I’ve started sticking around after my own rehearsal slot to watch the others.
My mother, whatever she is offstage, is luminous as Titania, graceful and beguiling.
Arthur, who plays Bottom, the human who Puck affixes a donkey’s head to, placing her under a love spell, is incredibly funny.
Together, they are very charming. A little too charming.
I almost can’t look at the scene with Arthur spread out in my mother’s fairy bower, her stroking his face and nuzzling him.
My parents rarely show physical affection, so it is strange to watch her enact it with someone else.
While I doubted it at first, the choice to have older fairies is genius.
Instead of sexy and flirty, they are sage and grumpy, taking zero shit from Bottom as he makes ridiculous demands of them.
They move a little more slowly, but there is a dignity to it.
Even Ron as the fairy Peaseblossom is somehow delightful.
Nick has been better too. He actually came to me with ideas for our scene to re-block it—weak ideas, but I appreciated the effort.
We have made it a little lighter, downplaying the sinister elements, playing up the cat-and-mouse-ness of it all.
It’s not the most cerebral take on it, but it’s entertaining, and it’s easier to keep it superficial.
Nick isn’t a natural comedian (the guy has made a career of intense brooding), but he fully commits and has full confidence.
It’s a frustrating quality in real life, but it makes for engaging theater.
We are rehearsing the big fight scene in act 2.
Puck has mistakenly given a love potion to Lysander instead of to Demetrius, then amends it by giving it to Demetrius also, so both men are suddenly in love with Helena.
Both no longer love Hermia, Helena believes they are tricking her, and Hermia is angry and confused.
The men fight with each other, Helena fights with everyone, and Hermia has a meltdown.
It’s a complicated scene with a lot of blocking, dynamics changing between characters every thirty seconds, and it’s long—one of the most complicated scenes in the show.
My father has booked us extra time to work on it.
We have been at it for over two hours, and we are tired and sore but happy.
For once, it all feels alchemic: It’s so fast, it’s Helena against everyone, which is fun to play.
There is no time to fixate on Nick or what he’s doing.
We are, the four of us, all in flow. Bailey and I throw ourselves toward each other, claws out.
At the last second, the guys have to grab us and pull us apart, then spin us around, away from each other.
It is chaos. It’s really fun. On our last run, Nick spins too hard, and we fall to the ground, laughing.
He lands on top of me. I am still laughing before I catch his eye and see that his face has turned deadly serious. Our faces are inches apart.
“You okay?” he asks. His breath is heavy.
“Yeah,” I say. He doesn’t move. The weight of him, his face looking down at me . . . For just a flash, it is all right there. Everything we were, everything that for a moment was so good. “I can’t breathe,” I say, and gently roll him off me.
He jumps up and offers his hand, pulling me up, and there it is again, that undeniable thing that I have kept at bay. I feel a pang—is it guilt? Regret? There is still a part of me that misses him. I hate that.
I step back and circle my finger in the air. “Let’s go again.” We set up the scene, and this time, I am careful not to fall.
We have a break between scenes. I am up in the balcony watching the mechanicals rehearse, laughing a bit to myself. The light and sound booth guys are outside on a smoke break. It’s a rare moment alone when I hear the creak of the stairs. I turn and see Nick coming up.
“Hey. Can I sit?” He gestures to my row. I nod and he sits, leaving a seat between us. “That was some fall,” he says.
I glance over at him. He is staring straight ahead. “Yeah,” I say. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Nah,” he says. “You?”
“No.”
We watch as Arthur, as Bottom, flies around the stage, instructing the other characters. Bottom is the true diva of the show, with his inflated ego and demands of those around him. As far as Bottom knows, it’s his show.
“That’s me.” Nick chuckles. He points to the stage. “The donkey guy. That’s what I did to this show.”
“Well . . . maybe a little.” It’s the most self-aware thing I think he’s ever said.
“That guy Arthur, he’s the real deal, huh? He’s a good actor.”
“He is,” I say. “Though he hasn’t had a ton of success with it. He’s never really had his break. I think that’s why coming here every summer means so much to him.”
“We should get him on Listings,” Nick says, and I know he can, and maybe even will, make that happen.
“He’d probably really appreciate that.”
We are quiet for a moment. Nick turns to me. “I feel like maybe you hate me less these days.”
“Maybe slightly less.” I am feeling generous. “You’re doing a good job,” I say. “Once you dropped the accent.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He laughs a little. “You might not realize this, but I’ve never actually had any formal acting training.”
“No, I know. I knew that.”
He looks at me, surprised. “I’m famous,” he reflects.
“Uh, yeah.”
“But I’m not sure I’m talented.” I say nothing. “I’m incredibly handsome, though, so, you know . . .” He turns to me again with that megawatt smile. That movie-star smile. The smile that got me in the first place.
“Okay, yes, I know.”
We watch the scene quietly together. Nick laughs out loud when Bottom tries to kiss his lover through the hole in the “wall.” “And to think,” I say. “You could have been doing Lego Batman. And here you are doing Shakespeare.” I smile at him. He is quiet.
“Yeah,” he says after a while. “So, Lego Batman wasn’t canceled,” he says, looking straight ahead. “I left.”
“Wow, what? Nick!”
He shrugs. “I kept thinking about that thing you said. About doing something creatively interesting.” I am shocked into silence.
“I keep doing things for the money, you know? Like, I guess because of how I grew up, and now I have more money than I could ever need. I bought my mom a nice house. She’s good.
I started this whole acting thing for her, really, and, like, when is it enough, you know?
And you left, and I realized I was choosing this thing, this job, over real life. Over you.” Now he looks at me.
“You gave it up for me?”
“Well.” He shifts in his seat. “Not really. I gave it up for me. Like, I kind of felt like, what’s the point of all of this, if I’m throwing people away, you know?
Like, who does that make me?” I watch him quietly.
I’ve never met this version of him before.
“But I realized that losing you . . . not having you . . . wasn’t good. ”
“Those are some big thoughts.”
He turns all the way around now, facing me. “Is there no chance, Miranda Belmont?”
“Chance of what?” I ask, but I know.
“Of us. I fucked up.” He swallows hard. “And there’s lots I didn’t say to you. I lied to you.”
“About what?”
“I had real feelings for you.” It’s still so little, so late.
“I was falling for you.” His voice is as soft and as earnest as I’ve ever heard it.
“I kept it casual because I was scared . . . You’re so amazing.
So talented, so smart, Mira, I can barely keep up with you, and you scared the shit out of me.
” It’s the most naked I’ve ever seen him. I think he really means it.
The fact of us turned real, and he dismantled it the second it did. I felt it too. He hurt me. “You acted like we were nothing. You forced my hand. How was I supposed to stay?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I’m a shit. I know.” He grabs my hand. “I will make it up to you. Let me show you, let me prove it to you . . .”
I take my hand back. “I appreciate the apology, Nick. I really do. And I’ll admit, your commitment to trying to win me back is, well, it’s surprising. But . . .”
Nick slumps back in his seat. “I won’t stop trying.”
I face him full on. “You will,” I say. “You don’t love me.”
“Hey, hey, I never said I loved you . . .”
I laugh to myself. “Wow. See? There you go.” I look at him closely.
There’s a determined set to his eyes that I’ve seen before.
“Ohhhhh.” I get it. I saw this look in the months leading up to the Emmys.
“You want to win.” It’s so incredibly simple.
It’s that I dared to reject him. “You don’t want me. ”
He sighs. “No one says no to me.” He sounds defeated, like he genuinely can’t believe it.
“And how is that serving you?” I ask gently. He looks at me hopefully. “It’s not going to happen, Nick.”
“I missed you.”
“I’m right here.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“We can be friends,” I say firmly. “Nothing more.” We both know I’m saying it because it’s a thing to say, and that when this show wraps up, we will likely not speak again. “Let’s just get through this thing, okay? Like . . . peacefully?”
He nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”
We ended because there were real feelings, and he couldn’t handle it.
It occurs to me that I am doing the same thing with Will.
What I feel toward him is so wildly unknowable, I’ve shut it down before even giving him a chance to tell me what his feelings are.
Nick’s ship has sailed, but it’s not too late with Will.
Maybe in trying to protect myself, I am hurting him.
I dare to wonder where things might go between us if I am brave enough to let them.