Chapter Twenty-Six
Jared was on the seventh repinning of his pants, and Evelyn was full-on thinking about murdering him.
“I just don’t think they’re tight enough,” Jared said, turning to check himself out in the full-length mirror.
Evelyn bit back an annoyed groan and glanced toward Pooja, who was currently kneeling in front of Jared’s crotch.
“Well?” Evelyn asked.
Pooja pulled a pin from her mouth. “I really don’t know how we can go any tighter.” She pinched at the material around his groin. “Honestly, I’m kind of worried if I tighten up the groin area any more you won’t be able to have children.”
“Have no fear,” Jared quickly informed her. “I am extremely fertile.”
“Good to know,” Pooja said, and returned her pin to his groin area.
Evelyn glanced down at her watch. It was almost lunchtime and she still hadn’t been able to run a full rehearsal with Jared, stage crew and cast. The time to their live performance was counting down, and they only had two days left.
Jared pursed his lips together. “Are you always like this, Evelyn?”
“Like what?”
“Stressed out,” he said. “Pent-up. Frustrated.”
He kept saying that.
She bit back her annoyance once again.
“We’re running low on time for rehearsal,” she reminded him. “I understand that you haven’t fully settled in yet, and that you may need more time, sensitive soul that you are, to process the energy of this space. But I really think that if we start rehearsing, you’ll find—”
“Right, see.” Jared cut her off. “The thing is, I don’t need to rehearse.”
“Of course you need to rehearse.”
Pooja pulled back from her pinning. Jared took a few moments to begin gyrating and dancing in front of the full-length mirror again. “You sent me the songs, the choreography . . . I know what to do.”
She struggled to believe that. This was, after all, a man who had arrived on set, taken off half his clothes and then begun a hunt for pharmaceuticals. Upside. David’s little trick with the vitamin D tablet had worked. Jared was, in the very least, attempting to be on some sort of best behavior.
“I think it’s time to move on to the next costume,” Evelyn said, trying to be firm on the matter. “And if we can finish all the fittings by the end of lunch, we should still have enough time to finish rehearsing the first act with the full cast and crew.”
Jared sighed heavily. “It just . . . doesn’t feel right.” He turned back to Evelyn. “Can we try it in the purple pants instead?”
Evelyn groaned and gave up. “Right,” she said, standing up from the chair. “Let me go find you that . . . in a child’s medium.” She grumbled the last part beneath her breath, while Jared returned to analyzing the outline of his junk in the mirror.
Moments later, Evelyn found herself drifting through rows of leather and damask, trying to find a pair of pants that would appease the finicky rock star. Unfortunately, the dust and smells were triggering a migraine. She stopped to massage her forehead, and her thoughts shifted to David.
David was so good at it, working with the rich and famous. Evelyn never had his patience. He could have lived out his days coddling celebs for obscene paychecks. But David—sweet and earnest—never wanted anything easy.
Truthfully, she had never understood his reluctance around working in television.
It paid great. They got to spend time together while working.
He didn’t have to worry about being a frontline worker during a pandemic or exorbitant malpractice costs that came with medicine.
And yet he’d hated his job, his entire freaking life with her in New York City, so much that he’d absconded from all of it in the middle of the night.
How could she ever forgive him?
The sound of portable racks colliding and then falling over brought her back to reality.
She sat up, forcing her eyes open to find the source of the noise.
Jared and Pooja were gone. The room, which had been in disarray from Jared’s costume fitting, was suddenly neat and tidy, full of smart ladies’ jackets and flowery midsize dresses.
She didn’t understand where they had all gone, or what had happened, until her eyes landed on the hem of a tulle skirt. Her gaze drifted up the green velvet frock to find the Ghost of Christmas Past puppet, fully moving and functioning on its own.
“Happy Hanukkah,” it said, its voice surprisingly gruff. “I’m your fifth heartbreak.”
Evelyn was, clearly, not okay.
Jared Sparks was missing, a puppet was walking around set by itself and she was definitely not in the mood for another field trip down memory lane. Whether a delusion, a ghost or a dream, she was desperate to figure out a way to end these heartbreaks once and for all.
“Look,” Evelyn said, staring up at her fifth heartbreak, “I get it, okay? My life has been filled with heartbreaks and disappointments, and now I use work to avoid dealing with my feelings around those traumas. But I swear—” she touched her heart and raised her right hand “—I’ve learned my lesson.
And if you leave right now, and never come back, I promise, I’ll be much better.
I’ll even take a vacation. A short one, obviously.
Possibly just an afternoon off. But the point is, you and your friends don’t need to keep coming back. ”
She waited for the puppet to acquiesce. Instead, it began to laugh, throwing its giant fabric head back, all the tulle and velvet in its arms shaking.
Evelyn grumbled, annoyed. “I didn’t think what I said was that funny.”
“Actually . . .” The puppet needed a moment to catch its breath. “You’re hilarious.”
“Keep laughing,” she grumbled. “Because as soon as this production of A Christmas Carol is over, I’m going to donate your body to a quilting class.”
The puppet stopped the hysterics.
Evelyn was still imagining her fifth heartbreak being cut up into fabric squares, when suddenly she heard music coming from the hallway—smooth jazz mixed with indecipherable chatter, until one voice, David’s voice, echoed above all of them. “I have some exciting news of my own to share.”
Evelyn felt her stomach dip. She knew where they were heading. The beginning of the end.
“Do we really have to?” Evelyn pleaded with the puppet.
With herself. It had to be cruel and unusual punishment to have to keep rehashing the worst moments of her life .
. . and yet the fifth heartbreak would not be dissuaded.
She was for sure turning his marionette-ass into fabric squares the minute this production was over.
The puppet pointed toward the doorway and, with all the solemnity of a Ghost of Christmas Future gesturing toward a waiting grave, bade her to pass the threshold. “Right,” Evelyn said. “Great. Thanks for listening.”