Page 39 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

He nods again. “Old people.”

“If I ask another question, is there any chance you’re not going to say ‘old people’ again?”

He squints at me. “Now do you want to sit down?”

“But I looked up Sunset Playhouse,” I implore, ignoring his question. “It’s a legitimate theatre!”

“It is,” he says. “But this is SunsetPlayers. I can see how you got the two mixed up.”

I point at him with one finger and use the other hand to dig around in my giant bag without breaking eye contact. I pull out a Twix bar, a pair of 3D glasses, and chopsticks before I finally use both hands to find my phone. I pull it out and google Sunset Players.

What comes up is a website with a tagline at the top: “Door County’s Premier Theater for the Young at Heart!” Underneath is a photo gallery of past productions—and just like Booker said, all the performers are old.

“They spelledtheatrelike a movie theater,” I say, as ifthat’sthe headline here.

Booker frowns. “Is that a big deal?”

I try not to be truly offended. “Is that a...?” I stop myself. I know it’s a hill I’m willing to die on, spelling ittheatreinstead oftheater, but I don’t have the brain power to educate him on why right now. The important note here is that I now live and apparently work in a retirement community.

“They didHair?Cabaret?A Chorus Line?” I shake my head, trying to picture it while also tryingnotto picture it. “A Chorus Line? How did they do a kick line?”

“Probably very slowly.”

It’s funny. I laugh, but the kind of shocked, unbelieving laugh that happens when you find out you’re the director for a production ofCinderellaat a retirement community.

“You really don’t like old people,” he says—a statement, not a question.

I’m momentarily taken aback. “No, it’s not that!” I’m just trying to compare what I’ve experienced to what I’m envisioning... and it’s like trying to do long division with a potted plant as a pencil.

I just can’t seem to work it out.

“You sure?”

I feel defensive. “Old people are great. I’m not prejudiced against old people,” I say, stopping short of giving the classic and misguided “some of my best friends are old people” excuse. “I just... don’t understand how to do a show likeCinderella—or any musical—withonlysenior citizens.” I sigh. “I’m having trouble wrapping my head around this.”

“I can see how that could be an issue if you, you know, didn’t read your email.”

I make a face. “I get that now, thanks.”

He shrugs his hands and shoulders. “But hey, maybe this job could be fun.”

I slump. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“You’re one ofthosepeople.”

He raises his eyebrows. “One of what people?”

I cross my arms. “Make the best of it. Silver lining. Lemonade.”

He frowns.

“I bet you are a morning person too.”

He looks a little crestfallen. “Iama morning person,” he says, not taking my point.

“Iknewit.” I say this like Seinfeld said “Newman...”

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