Page 32 of Forget About Me

“Francis Flute, the bellow’s mender.” Nick’s grin eggs me on.

I glance over at the man we’re gossiping about. His smile is definitely forced. Heisjealous. “That’s it. Ben was hilarious. He used this warbly, high voice. All the guys in that troupe would try to make each other crack up onstage, but he was the best at it.”

That year, he was eighteen and I was fifteen. I’d had a crush on him for years. Now, I tilt my head to the side as I call out to him. “Do you remember that I was the assistant to the assistant stage manager for thatMidsummerat Arlington High?”

“What I remember is that you always knew everyone’s lines and you’d hiss them at us from stage left if we forgot.”

“But you never forgot yours.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

Well, you’re mad atmeright now.

Nick claps his hands. “All right. Let’s get back to work.” He looks to the stage manager. “Janet? What’s next?”

She checks her watch and calls to the room, “We’re back. Scene four. Launce, Proteus and Julia, are you ready?”

Ben’s friend Will—a tall, dark-haired pale-skinned guy—and a petite black actress named Rhonda—who looks like she’s barely out of college—move to stand in the area marked as “offstage” by masking tape on the floor.

“Well, then.” Nick looks down at the dog. “Puck, are you ready to go at this again?”

Puck barks, and it’s like he’s actually saying yes. “My word, he is an exceptional animal. You have your work cut out for you, Benjamin.”

“Actually, it’s Benedick,” Ben says, a bit grumpily.

“Like the character inMuch Ado?”

“It’s a family name, but yeah.”

Nick nods back. “How unusual. My apologies.” He points toward the stage and draws a circle in the air. “So, we’ll run Launce’s monologue and keep going to the entrance of Proteus and Julia.”

As Ben performs at an emotional full tilt, Puck does every single thing we practiced. Everyone watching is laughing. Nick grins broadly and winks at me.

When Will and Rhonda enter, Will/Proteus yells at Ben/Launce, “How now, you whoreson peasant!”

When Ben cowers in fear, Puck charges at Will, straining on the leash and barking ferociously. Will jumps back and Rhonda screams. Obviously thrown, they glance at Nick briefly before continuing with their lines as Ben scrambles to get Puck under control.

Will was pretty aggressive there, so Puck’s reaction tells me that he feels he has to protect Ben. At the end of the scene, Ben has to pick up Puck and carry him off.

Nick looks over at me. “Well, that was interesting.”

“Sorry about the scream,” Rhonda says. “I didn’t know that was going to happen. He’s such a sweet dog.”

Nick hops up to meet them at the edge of the playing area. “In performance, should something happen with the animal that wasn’t rehearsed, you must carry on. He will always be in the present moment, and you must react in kind. If you don’t, the fourth wall will be broken and you’ll lose the audience.”

I join them. “I’m sure we can work on this. I think Puck thought Ben was vulnerable because he was crouched low and crying. He thought he had to protect Ben from Will.”

This leads to a discussion of how Crab’s reactions could add to the story being told. Even though I haven’t studied theater like they all have, Nick includes me like he values my creative ideas as well as my skills with Puck.

As rehearsal winds down, I’m just getting started. I can’t jot down ideas fast enough. Even though my day started almost twelve hours ago, doing something new and challenging is energizing.

When I go to gather my things, Ben follows me. “Thanks, Lucy. I’m sorry this has taken up your whole evening.”

His warm hand on my shoulder awakens a slew of memories, all featuring his work-roughened hands running over my body.

“Hey, it’s your dime,” I say, waving his apology away as I will the blush heating my cheeks to cool down. “Besides, it’s a lot more fun than I thought it would be. It’s rewarding to train a dog to behave, but it’s pretty darn cool to get him to do things that make people laugh.”

I make myself meet his gaze, but the longing in it is harder to face than the jealousy I’ve been stoking. So I mumble a goodbye and push the heavy church door open. Outside, I have to stop and get my bearings. When I went into the church basement a few hours ago, it was still light out and unseasonably warm. A front must’ve come through while we were holed up down there. Now, the parking lot’s damp and tiny puddles sparkle in the streetlight. It isn’t raining at the moment, but the temperature has dropped about twenty degrees. Shivering, I head for my car, but Ben’s voice stops me.

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