Page 63 of What I'm Looking For

He glances at me briefly, sputtering out a half laugh as he returns his eyes to the road. “Yeah, you gotta work on that.”

* * *

Friday night,sitting with Alice waiting for the play to begin, I’m glad I’m not the one who has to stand before this huge crowd and speak words the audience won’t understand, hoping they’ll sit politely and listen anyway. Of course, Will does this all the time. He said he does get nervous, especially on opening night when reviewers are there, but he channels the adrenaline using his famous breathing techniques. According to him, that’s what creates stage presence.

Alice nudges me. “Can you believe we’ve run by here a bazillion times and never noticed this place?”

The theater tucked away in the woods along the Charles River isn’t a building, but there are permanent structures: rows of seats on a gentle slope, large towers that hold lighting equipment, and a wooden stage. Tall panels flank the platform, the woods and the river peeking between them. More panels screen areas to the left and right. I figure that’s the backstage area.

“I know. The trees seem to block the traffic noise. It’s a wonder they have an audience since it’s kind of hard to find.”

Alice taps a finger over pursed lips. “Hmmm. Maybe they need to hire a good publicist to get the word out.”

“Honey, they can’t afford your firm. Unless you talk your boss into taking it on gratis.”

“Or I could do a trade for sexual favors. But first, I have to see how many cute actors this company has.” She opens her program. “I wonder if there’re pictures of them in here.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

She hums as she flips through the shiny booklet. “That’s why you love me.”

The instrumental music that’s been playing over loudspeakers begins to fade in tandem with the lights over the audience. Alice grabs my hand and squeezes. I squeeze back. It would’ve been weird to come all by myself. We did see Deb and Pam, who gave me big hugs before explaining that they had to sit in the back with the director. Deb echoed Will’s invitation to come to the party at their house after the show.

Once the lights have dimmed completely, I look up. It’s a beautiful summer night. Stars wink overhead, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I’m wondering what they do in the case of rain when a trumpet sounds. My gaze drops to the stage, now lit, where a line of actors processes, Will among them.

“He looks good in black,” Alice murmurs in my ear.

“It’s kind of funny seeing him without a vest,” I whisper back.

“Shhh!” someone hisses from behind us. I stifle a giggle.

The story isn’t so hard to follow, especially since I’ve heard lots of the dialogue while helping Will memorize his part. Even when I don’t get what they’re saying, what’s happening is pretty clear.

Will hasn’t talked much about the actress who plays the female lead, who has a commanding presence and a beautiful voice that easily fills the space. She’s pretty, too, with a rosy complexion and blond ringlets cascading down her back. I beat back flames of jealousy that threaten to grow from glowing embers of worry. I have to trust that Will is with me and only me, despite the fact that he’s literally surrounded by beauty in all shapes, ages and colors.

More perturbing, however, is Will’s transformation. From the moment he walks on stage, Will—or rather, his character Bertram—is a total jerk. His posture, the way he moves, even his voice, which carries a sneer I’ve never heard from that mouth, combine to create a guy that I would not want to be with.

I’m glad I’ve never seen this side of him before, but the fact that it lives inside him somewhere has my belly clenching with dread. If it exists, could it be directed at me someday?

* * *

Before I know it,the scene where Will seduces Jessica—or rather her character, Diana—has arrived. As soon as I hear, “They told me that your name was Fontibell,” my heart drops to my gut. Watching them perform the familiar words is so different than lounging next to Will while he recites them. His eyes hold desire that Jessica’s return. Not only that, but she winds her body around his in a seductive dance that has him literally on his knees before he sweeps her up in his strong arms and carries her off the stage.

And then it hits me. Jessica, petite with large breasts and dark, curly hair, looks a lot like the woman Jonathan took up with. The day after he gave me the it’s-your-job-or-me ultimatum.

Crossing my arms and legs, I fight the bile rising in my throat. All I can see is the scene in my mind. Jonathan saying that if I loved him, I’d follow him to Indiana and support him through med school. That my job didn’t matter anyway since I’d have to leave it when I had kids. That women don’t have the right temperament for finance. Frustrated with his stupid arguments, I’d stormed out even as he shouted that if I left, things were over between us. “Things” meaning a three-and-a-half year relationship. The next day, I’d returned, calmer, hoping to get him to see my point of view. But when I opened the door to his room, he was asleep. Naked. With a buxom brunette in bed next to him.

Images of Will and Jessica blur with those of Jonathan and that girl. I look over at Alice, hoping she can pull me out of this emotional quicksand, but she’s completely absorbed in the play.

Right. It’s a play. These are actors. It’s all pretend.

* * *

I’m notsure how I managed to get down the steps and away from the crowd and through the parking lot. At the moment, my hands are pressed against the side of my car.

Fumbling with my keys, I can’t seem to catch my breath or unlock the door. “I’m sorry. I had to get out of there.”

Alice takes over. “Here, let me.” She opens the car door. “Sit down. Do you have any water bottles in here?” She opens the back door and reaches under the seat. “Yep! Here you go. Take some small sips.”

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