Page 8 of The Voice We Find

And then she’s calling me on video. Dang it.

I swipe at the dampness under my eyes with the hem of my shirt and then answer with a smile. “Hello again.”

“Oh sweetie, you look awful. What’s wrong?”

I almost laugh when I see the mascara smudges under my eyes. Her assessment isn’t wrong. I look about as good as I feel. “I promise, I’m just having a bad moment. Mostly hormones.”

“Nice try, but you still have eleven days to go before you can claim PMS. We’re still cycle buddies, remember?” She narrows her fan of false eyelashes at the camera. “Did something happen with Natalie?”

This time I actually do laugh. “Other than her playing the ignoring Sophie game? No. She’s winning by the way.”

“So what is it?”

I bite the quiver from my bottom lip before I speak, knowing that once I say these words out loud there will be no taking them back. “I went to an audition at my local community theater today, and I couldn’t go through with it.”

“You didwhat?” She looks directly at me through the camera. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I needed to see if I could do it on my own.” I flop back on my bed and hold the phone above my head. “And I couldn’t. It’s ... it’s really over.”

I’ve avoided this truth, tiptoed around it for months now, even though everything in my life pointed to the same blinking neon sign of my failure. But hope is strange thing. It keeps right on living even when you feel like dying.

“No it’s not, it’s just...” Dana’s eyes shift as if she’s searching for the right vocabulary words. “You’re dealing with the stress of a difficult transition period right now. Give yourself some time. And remember, this isn’t your forever, it’s just temporary.”

“But what happens after I leave here? I have nothing. No plans. No dreams. No connections outside of—”

“You still have me.”

I sigh, thankful to be reminded of that. “I do, I know. But you’re in New York.”

“For now, yes.” She shrugs. “But it’s not as if my contract is indefinite. Besides, you know I’m a nomad at heart. Maybe we’ll find that traveling theater gig we’ve always dreamed of doing together.”

“Maybe,” I say, hoping I sound more optimistic than I feel about such an unrealistic opportunity. “But you’re living your dream right now, and I’d never forgive myself if you left it for me.”

She purses her lips and tilts her head. “You need something that excites you, Sophie. Something you can look forward to while you’re stuck in limbo.”

I tug a pillow close. “Like what?”

“Like an in-between dream—something you’ll do while we figure out how to fix you on stage and get you out of California.” Dana is even more of a diehard when it comes to hope than I am. “I’m thinking through possible hobbies. Hang on. I’ll come up with something.”

I flip over on my tummy. “Please don’t suggest I give crocheting a try again. You remember how horrible that lopsided hat I made for Jason’s birthday was.” I laugh now, remembering Dana’s ex-boyfriend walking around with a mismatched striped hat that looked like something from a Dr. Seuss book. I think I was more upset than Dana when they broke up. He was such a good sport, which is probably why they remain close friends.

I expect Dana to throw in a quip about my poor crafting skills, but instead she seems to be contemplating something else. “How weird you mentioned him—I just saw him last night.”

“Why is that weird? You see him at auditions all the time.”

She shakes her head as if she’s trying to recall something. “I know, but he was telling me about a gig he just got. Honestly, I was only half listening because it was karaoke night and you know how focused I get. But anyway, I guess he’s reading books for like a publishing house or something. Said he loves it. Maybe that’s something you could look into? You love books, and you’re a pro at character

voices.”

I try to piece together her words. “You mean he’s narrating audiobooks?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” She nods enthusiastically. “Although I’m pretty sure he called it ‘voice acting.’” She sounds more excited by the second. “Never know, maybe it could be the thing that gets you out of that pit of despair you’re living in and keeps your talents from getting rusty. Plus, he seemed pretty happy with the paycheck, too.”

“Interesting.” I nod in solidarity, even if the idea feels wildly overdramatized. “Did he tell you how it works—how he got started?”

“I didn’t ask a whole lot of questions, but from what I understood, it sounds like actors submit a demo to various websites, and once they’re selected, they record the books in their home studios. Jason soundproofed his closet.”

And just like that, my brand-new in-between dream dies. I flip the camera to show her my living space. “The closest thing I have to a closet is my shower, and even if I did have one, there’s construction going on most of the day and I work most evenings.”

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