Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
The accusation sliced her. Because she did know it.
She knew it every morning on that subway ride together downtown, when he slumped in the seat beside her, disappearing into some mindless app.
She knew it every Sunday night, when he got stressed out and depressed.
She knew it, and she ignored it, through their entire marriage.
But it wasn’t because she didn’t love him.
She would have given anything, in fact, to make him happy. But they were both stuck.
“I hear you,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I understand what you’re saying, okay?”
“But you’re against the idea?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said, even though she was, totally, against the idea. “I’m just saying . . . maybe it’s not the right time?”
David scoffed. “It’ll never be the right time for you.”
“David, please,” she tried again, feeling tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“I’m just at the start of my career. Things are finally happening for me with Marla and Angelika.
I’m getting noticed. But you see how my job is .
. . I need to be living in Manhattan, close to work, on call for whenever there are problems. And we need the money.
We really, really need your salary right now.
Please. I know you’re not happy. But maybe in a few years, when I’m more settled in my position, and we’ve recouped some of our savings, we can find a way to compromise. ”
His gaze was pinned on her. She looked away, ignoring the pain in his eyes. The way he sat there, quiet and withdrawn, when her phone vibrated on the table. Thank God. It was Angelika, demanding she come help out with the lamp.
“I’m sorry,” Evelyn said, gathering up her items. “I need to go.”
David was incredulous. “You’re leaving?”
“We can talk about it later.”
“Later. Right.”
“David—”
“Just go,” he said, tossing his napkin from his lap onto the table. “Go deal with your more important priorities.”
She met his eyes directly. “You are my number one priority, David.”
It was the truth. She loved him. Always. She tried to soften the blow of her leaving with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Evelyn watched her younger self depart—passing her and the puppet—out the front door. David remained at the table alone, crestfallen. Meanwhile, Evelyn would race all the way back to work after-hours just for Angelika to ask her to plug in a lamp.
It was a ridiculous request, from a terrible boss and woman, but she told herself it was all for the best. The next morning, David informed her that he wouldn’t be taking the position.
He could survive a few more years working in television medicine.
She threw her arms around him and, with tears in her eyes, promised him that it wouldn’t be forever.
They never spoke about it again.
After all, she had learned from her parents that talking about problems in your marriage led to screaming, and screaming led to divorce, and divorce led to the one person you love more than anything in the world walking out on you forever.
For Evelyn, it was safer just to go to work.
Evelyn jerked awake. The puppet was gone.
She was laid out flat on the floor of costuming, and Jared Sparks was standing over her, his trouser titan hovering directly above her face.
“Right,” Jared said, totally unaware of any impropriety.
“If you’re done playing with the lamp now, I think we can head to rehearsal. ”
“What?” Evelyn stammered. “What happened?”
“You were dreaming,” Jared said, peering at her like some local curiosity.
“At least, I think you were dreaming. You kept talking about David, screaming out his name like one of them horny little foxes looking for a mate at three o’clock in the morning.
Have you ever heard one of ’em foxes, Evelyn? ”
“No,” she said dryly, and shifted away from his shaft.
“It’s quite a thing, though, innit?” he mused, half to himself.
“I sometimes wonder if other foxes find that charming or if maybe foxes just have unresolved issues. Like what if all that mammalian caterwauling isn’t just for a mate but for the universe to take notice? Which is what we all want, I think—”
“Jared!” she snapped at him. “Can you maybe get to the point here?”
“Right,” he said, stepping off her. “Crack on, then. Anyway, after you were done screaming about David, you started fondling a lamp.”
She didn’t believe him.
“Here,” Jared said, showing her his phone. “I took video.”
Evelyn stared down at the evidence for herself. For thirty-six seconds, she watched herself violently wrestle a rack of costumes, before attacking a floor lamp at the side of the room. Evelyn was horrified. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You seemed to be enjoying it.”
She looked down to see herself gyrating against the pole. One arm waving above her head, she repeatedly called David’s name, before finally screaming the word Hanukkah and collapsing to the ground. “This wasn’t . . . I must have been sleepwalking. I don’t know how this could have happened.”
“To tell you the truth,” he said, grimacing slightly. “It was rather unsettling.”
Great. She was being judged by a man who considered bangles clothing.
Upside—if there was an upside to screaming David’s name on camera—there were no talking puppets on the video.
She had physical evidence now that the ghosts she had been seeing, all those life experiences with David she was forced to keep revisiting, were all in her head. Part of her imagination. Delusions.
She considered the possibility, once more, that there was something seriously wrong with her.
That David was right. That her initial run-in with the piano had shaken something loose in her brain.
She needed to go to the hospital. But staring at the video of herself, crashing into costume racks without injury or concern, pole dancing with a lamp, a more pressing concern came to mind.
“You’re going to delete that, right?” Evelyn asked.
Jared didn’t hesitate. “Not a chance.”
Evelyn shook her head. “Let’s just get to rehearsal.”
There were only three hours left in the day for rehearsal when Evelyn and Jared appeared back on set. She wasn’t sure what to expect. The previous day’s rehearsal had been a disaster. Demi had been alone for most of the morning, her first time executive producing without Evelyn there to help.
Entering through the stage doors, she found them working through a number from the second act.
The character of Belle—Scrooge’s love interest—was breaking off their engagement after accusing Scrooge of choosing his love of money over her.
It was an absolutely heart-wrenching scene, made all the more crushing by the ballad which accompanied it.
It was also a technically difficult scene, due to its use of a ghost light chorus and scrim.
Evelyn watched the actress playing Belle step forward, and her breath hitched in her throat. Yesterday, her staff had massacred this all-too-important number, nearly taking out Tiny Tim in the process.
“Nice and slow, Joc,” Demi said, calling out to Jocelyn, the actress playing Belle. “Don’t step on the choruses’ toes here.”
Jocelyn obeyed, stepping into the spotlight.
At the same time, all sixteen members of the choir stepped back, simultaneously, hitting their marks on cue.
An opaque screen descended from the ceiling, evoking the feeling of some ethereal haunting as the chorus retorted, “You fear the world too much. May you be happy in the life you have chosen.”
The lyrics had been taken directly from the book, and it was beautiful.
Perfect . . . but also, camera three needed to move in tighter.
She chewed on her lower lip and wondered if she should say something to Demi now that she had returned.
But Evelyn didn’t need to. Demi glanced at the monitors and quickly made the correction herself.
“Camera three,” Demi shouted. “I need you to get in closer with that spotlight.”
Camera three obeyed, and Evelyn found herself getting emotional.
She had met Demi when she was just out of college, a nervous and overwhelmed production assistant, struggling to get coffee orders right.
Now she was playing the role of executive producer, all by herself.
It wasn’t Evelyn’s victory, exactly, but she basked in the glow of her success all the same.
When the scene finally came to a close, both Evelyn and Jared erupted into well-deserved applause.
Demi turned around, blushing. “I didn’t know you were there,” she said, coming over.
“That was . . .” Evelyn struggled to find the right words. “Absolutely fabulous.”
“See?” Demi beamed. “Nothing to worry about.”
Quickly, Demi filled her in on what had occurred in her absence. “We basically ran through all the major numbers. The cast was having a little trouble with this one, but after a few rounds, I think we’re good to go.”
It certainly seemed that way.
“So,” Evelyn said, returning to her role as executive producer. “Are we ready to run it from the top with Jared?”
A palpable excitement spread through both cast and crew.
Demi returned the tablet to Evelyn, and everyone took their places.
Jared moved to center stage, and she was reminded of why she fought so hard to hire him.
The energy in the room shifted. His body contorted, his back hunched over, his hands locked up, frozen in place as if riddled with arthritis, his physical form embodying the character’s emotional reality.
Jared Sparks had fully transformed into Scrooge.
A weird sort of hope filled Evelyn’s chest, and she sat there, watching her dreams turn into reality, trying not to let her mind drift to heartbreaks—or to David—all while the lyrics from Belle’s ballad played on repeat inside her head.
You fear the world too much. May you be happy in the life you have chosen.