Chapter Thirty-Five
In spite of her absence the previous day, she was feeling positive.
Jared Sparks showed up on set without his usual antics.
Demi promised her that cast and crew were ready for that evening’s production.
Better still, and thanks to that side trip to the hospital, she had more than enough migraine medication to get her through the next twenty-four hours.
As for the heartbreaks of Hanukkah, she put them in the same category as David. A problem that was best ignored.
“Good morning, everyone.” Evelyn beamed.
The dancers looked up from the floor where they were stretching. Behind them, a snowy Victorian London sat waiting and ready for them. Jared Sparks, fully dressed now as Ebenezer Scrooge, jumped off the stage to greet her.
“Evelyn,” Jared said, happily surprised. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
He took both her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. “Our mommy has returned.”
“I really need you to stop calling me that.”
He rubbed her hands back and forth on his cheeks. “Whatever you say, Mommy. But where is our daddy?”
“No idea.” She shrugged.
“But . . . but I thought he accompanied you to hospital last night?”
“He did.”
Jared ventured a guess. “So, you went home together and had passionate post-hospital sex, where you reaffirmed your love for each other, and he performed anilingus on you for hours?”
“No,” she said, flatly. “That didn’t happen. At all, actually.”
Jared sighed heavily. “What a shame. You know, I’ve always found the feeling of a tongue on my anus tremendously healing.”
She tried to move the conversation away from her tuchus.
“Just so you know,” Evelyn said, leaning in to whisper.
“The doctor said I was perfectly fine to go back to work. He also gave me more migraine medication to prevent further episodes.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the prescription bottle, waving it as evidence in front of him.
“So, there’s nothing to be confused or concerned about.
I am fully capable of executive producing A Christmas Carol without any unforeseen personal problems coming up. ”
He considered her words for all of ten seconds. “So, can I have a few of them, then?”
“No,” she said simply. “Absolutely not.”
“Right.”
“You ready to get to work, then?”
Jared swiveled back to the stage. “From this point on,” he mused dramatically, “you shall know me as Scrooge.”
Two hours later, the dress rehearsal was going perfectly.
Aside from one little glitch with the lighting during the second act, Evelyn was feeling good.
She tapped her feet along to the music, swaying happily, feeling the Christmas spirit entirely.
As for David—her eyes wandered toward the side of the stage where he normally stood during rehearsals—he hadn’t made an appearance.
For some strange reason, it bothered her.
But, considering everything that had happened, everything she still had on the line, she tried to put it out of her head.
She was about to embark on the biggest night of her career. There was no time to be thinking about ex-husbands.
“Looks like it’s going well,” a voice called out from behind her.
Evelyn twisted around to see Barry Peters, having just arrived on set. Thankfully, this time, he had left the children at home. Still, she knew that he was here to check in on his investment. And her. She puffed out her chest and exuded confidence.
“Better than good,” Evelyn said.
“Do you have a minute?”
Obviously, she didn’t. But she motioned for Demi to take over, and then, rising from her seat, moved a short distance away so they could speak quietly.
He asked her some questions about timing and budgets, about Demi, too.
She put in a good word for everyone, including her stand-in who had gone home with the flu, and even caroler number eighteen.
“I think you’ll find that this production exceeds expectations. ”
“And Jared,” Barry asked, his furry eyebrows wiggling upward. “How did that all work out? I’ve heard rumblings from others in the biz that he can be a handful.”
She smiled big and lied through her teeth. “Jared was a perfect angel.”
Barry gave her one firm tap on the back. “That’s what I like to hear!”
On the stage, Jared was coming to his big finale.
His voice echoed across the studio, drawing both her and Barry’s attention toward the stage.
Once again, he was mesmerizing. Her eyes flitted over to Demi, who was wiping a tear away.
Evelyn knew that Demi’s wellspring of emotion was not just about the show, but about personal achievement.
It was hard to be successful as a woman.
To mediate between work life and home life, to find some balance.
Evelyn was proud to be one of the good ones.
She had pulled up others alongside her own success.
She looked forward to the day when Demi would surpass her, and a world where women’s stories, and the way they told them, were uplifted just as much men’s.
“Well, Evelyn,” Barry said, “I think it’s fair to say you’ve outdone yourself this time around.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve really got talent. I can see what Marla saw in you.”
Marla. The name brought her back to the eight heartbreaks.
There was still one more ghost to go. On instinct, she scanned the stage for any possible specter lurking alongside her cast and crew, but nothing felt out of the ordinary.
She didn’t even have a migraine. It was almost too perfect, too quiet. It made her feel incredibly nervous.
“I’m looking forward to tonight,” Barry said, turning to leave.
“Me, too,” she squeaked out.
She watched her boss depart before turning back to the stage.
Yes, everything was going to plan. The show was incredible.
After years of hard work, Evelyn was finally standing on the precipice of achieving her dreams. And yet, her gaze drifting off to the side once more, she couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something important.
Or maybe—if she were being honest with herself—someone.
Evelyn watched Jared Sparks and the rest of the cast and crew take their final bow, hands interlocked at the front of the stage.
As tears now fully streamed down her own cheeks, Jared pointed toward Evelyn, and camera three swung around.
They were applauding her. Despite all the challenges of the last eight days, she had produced a straight masterpiece.
“And that’s a wrap!” Evelyn shouted.
The cast and crew exploded into cheers, high-fiving each other, hugging. She was still reeling from the adrenaline, when the stage doors flew open and in walked Barry Peters.
“Incredible,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Just incredible.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, I know you probably want to go home and take some time after all this, but don’t take too much time. I’ve got a film version of The Phantom of the Opera to produce, and I’m going to need our very best producer on board.”
Evelyn could scarcely contain her excitement. “Yes. I’d love that.”
“Then go home, rest up . . . Lord knows you’re gonna need your beauty sleep in the coming year. I’ll have my secretary call you in the New Year to set up a lunch meeting.” Barry Peters twisted toward the door, off again. “Any place you want, Evelyn! Lunch is on me.”
She watched him depart, the door shutting behind him. When she turned back, Demi was standing excitedly beside her, both hands covering her mouth.
“Did you hear that?” Evelyn said.
Demi shrieked. “I heard!”
“A movie!”
“You deserve it,” Demi said, throwing her hands around Evelyn’s neck in a hug.
“No,” Evelyn whispered back in her ear. “We both deserve it. You were remarkable this entire week. Thank you.”
Demi pulled back, tears in her eyes. “I love you, Evelyn.”
“Oh, please.”
“No, seriously. You are really the best.”
Evelyn took the compliment.
“So,” Demi said happily. “Now that we can actually relax, the entire cast and crew are going out to celebrate. You coming?”
Evelyn hesitated. There was nothing more fun than an afterparty, but she often avoided them for a variety of reasons.
Not the least of which was that there would be alcohol, and given the power dynamics between cast and crew, she didn’t want to make people feel uncomfortable at her presence.
“I think I’m just going to go home, get some rest .
. . maybe rewatch the show and make notes for things I would change the next round. ”
“Evelyn!” Even Demi was shocked by the proclamation. “Come out and have a drink. Please.”
Evelyn smiled politely. “Maybe next time.”
Demi acquiesced with a slight nod and they said goodbye, promising to catch up again in the New Year.
From there, Evelyn sought out Jared, finding him in his dressing room.
When she arrived, the door was open just an inch.
She could make out Jared, sitting at the vanity of his dressing room.
Head down, hands to his lips like he was praying, he appeared to be in deep contemplation.
Evelyn knocked gently. “Jared?”
His eyes popped open. “Evelyn!”
She pointed to a chair next to him. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he said, pulling it out for her.
She took the seat beside him. Despite their troubles, he had done what he had promised.
“You were remarkable, Jared.”
“It did turn out quite nice, didn’t it?”
“Better than nice,” she admitted. “You were magic. You took this show to another level. I know we had a rough start . . . a rough week, really. But I wanted to say thank you for giving it your all tonight, for showing up and becoming Scrooge.”
He mused over the compliment. “Well, really . . . it’s thanks to you and David.”
She laughed outright. “I appreciate the compliment, but I really don’t think David and I had anything to do with your success tonight.”
“But you did,” he said, adamant. “When I first arrived here, I was having so much trouble connecting to this character. I thought I understood Scrooge’s motivation, what drove him to reverse course in the final act, but I really didn’t internalize the message of A Christmas Carol until heading out to David’s farm . . . with you.”
Evelyn was caught off guard. “I don’t understand.”
“We have this tale of three ghosts, right? Past, present, and future . . . And most people think it’s a story about change. That we all have these bad, maladaptive patterns we get stuck in throughout our life, and the only way to grow into better places of being is through change.”
“Isn’t that what it’s about, though?”
“Well, yes,” he said, inching closer to her.
“But really, if you think about it beyond the surface layer . . . A Christmas Carol is about revisiting our own memories through the lens of someone else. Scrooge doesn’t change because of the ghosts .
. . he changes because he understands that a woman once loved him, that a father grieves for his sick and dying son, that his actions from being a miser affect people—and the world—around him.
He changes because he experiences the heartbreaks of life from a perspective outside of his own. ”
“Huh,” she said, thinking it over. “And you got all that from me and David?”
“Really, Evelyn,” Jared said, rising from his spot. “I’m not all drugs, orgies and nipple sucking, you know. Unless, of course, you’d like to suck on my nipple?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“You sure?”
“So . . . so sure.”
“Right, then,” he said, placing both hands on his hips. “Till next time?”
“Ohhh.” She wanted to be absolutely clear on this matter. “There will never be a next time for us. I will, literally, spend the rest of my career avoiding working with you. You were an absolute nightmare to manage.”
He considered the statement. “Fair enough. Dinner, then?”
“No.”
“Vagina-yogi steaming?”
“No.”
“My niece is having her bat mitzvah next week and—”
“Jared,” she interrupted him. “It’s time for everyone to go home.”
Jared nodded. “Goodbye then, Evelyn.”
“Goodbye, Jared.”
By the time Evelyn made it back to the set, everyone had cleared out.
She sighed, not quite ready to go home, but not totally up for an afterparty with the cast and crew, either.
But for the length of one breath, she wished David was there.
She thought, at the very least, he would come up and congratulate her. It hurt that he hadn’t.
She stared back at the stage, now abandoned by people.
All that time and effort, all that love and passion, and then, in a heartbeat, it was over.
Tomorrow, the teamsters would arrive, take apart the set and put the props into storage.
But she had given it her all. She had fought, and fought, for both her and David.
Gathering up her coat and jacket, preparing to return to her empty apartment, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter how a story began. If the journey was good or bad—fraught with ghosts, or heartbreaks, or visions—they all ended the same way.
With people on a stage, bowing out.