Page 1 of Silent Home

PROLOGUE

Jessica Gregory slipped into the back row of Theater Three, grateful to find it empty.The documentary about sustainable farming played on, casting flickering shadows across the worn burgundy seats, but Jessica wasn't here to watch root vegetables grow.

She had exactly forty-seven minutes before her next shift at the concession stand, and she intended to use every second of it.

Sliding her backpack onto the seat beside her, she pulled out her well-worn copy of "The Glass Menagerie."The script's pages were dog-eared and marked with highlighter, post-it notes protruding from the edges like colorful feathers.Jessica ran her fingers over the familiar cover, remembering the first time she'd read it in her high school drama class.Now, six years later, she finally had a shot at playing Laura Wingfield in the Coldwater Community Theater's winter production.

Ifshe could nail the callback tomorrow night.

The sound of a tractor engine rumbled from the screen, and Jessica glanced up.A weathered farmer was explaining something about crop rotation, his face illuminated by the golden hour sun.The few audience members scattered throughout the middle rows sat motionless, absorbed in his words.

Jessica envied their ability to lose themselves in the story.Her own mind was too full of Laura's monologues, of all the ways she could bring this fragile character to life.

She'd already bombed three auditions this month—a local commercial for Peak Mountain Credit Union, a supporting role in the college's production of "Our Town," and most painfully, a chance to understudy for a professional theater company in Salt Lake City.The director there had called her work "technically proficient but lacking emotional depth."The words still stung, especially because Jessica feared they might be true.

Yes, there was that one director—Brad—who'd taken an interest in her.But did he really think she was talented, or was he just using her for his own… amusement?Stringing her along with hints about different roles, different movies?

I don't need a repeat of what happened with 'The Winter Palace,she thought bitterly.

Then again, holding grudges wouldn't get her far in her career.And neither would blind optimism.

The best thing, she decided, was to assume Brad wouldn't have anything for her.That way, if it turned out he did have a role for her, it would come as a bonus.

Despite her focus on finding a promising new role, the truth was that sometimes she wondered if she wanted to remain in the acting world at all.Some of the things she'd discovered had dampened her enthusiasm.She'd thought the whole system was merit-based, and if you had the talent, you'd get the roles.But she knew better now.

Still, that didn't keep her from hoping she'd make her breakthrough.

The Peak Mountain Film Festival was on its fourth day, transforming sleepy Coldwater into a buzzing hive of independent filmmakers, critics, and movie enthusiasts.Every hotel room within thirty miles was booked.Main Street had been closed to traffic, becoming a pedestrian mall lined with food trucks and pop-up shops.The crisp October air carried the scent of kettle corn and woodsmoke, along with the excited chatter of people discussing the latest screenings.

Jessica had jumped at the chance to work the festival, even though it meant long hours of serving popcorn and explaining to irritated patrons why they couldn't bring hot drinks into the theaters.The connections alone made it worthwhile.Just yesterday, she'd handed a large combo to an indie director whose last film had won at Sundance.She'd managed to mention her acting experience, and he'd actually seemed interested, asking for her email address.

It was a small thing, but it felt like progress.

A burst of laughter from the screen pulled Jessica back to the present.She checked her phone—forty minutes left.Plenty of time to work on Laura's pivotal scene with Jim O'Connor, the gentleman caller.Jessica had been practicing it for weeks, trying to capture that delicate balance between hope and fear, between wanting to emerge from her shell and needing to protect herself.

It wasn't so different from her own life, really.Except that Laura had her glass collection to retreat into, while Jessica had thrown herself into acting precisely because it forced her to connect with others.Every role was a chance to understand someone else's truth, to step outside her own tangled history and become something more.

The projection booth hummed overhead, its beam cutting through the darkness.Jessica glanced up, catching a glimpse of movement behind the small window.Probably Chad, the projectionist who'd been working this theater all week.He'd mentioned wanting to direct someday, and they'd had a few good conversations about storytelling between screenings.Jessica gave a small wave, though she wasn't sure if he could see her in the darkness.

Turning back to her script, she began to whisper Laura's lines, letting the familiar words wash over her."'I loved having my—glass collection in the light.You know what I mean?I loved to wash it.'"Jessica paused, considering the subtext.Laura was really talking about herself here, wasn't she?About wanting to be seen, to shine, even while fearing that exposure might somehow break her.

The documentary's soundtrack swelled with orchestral music, and Jessica used it as a backdrop for her next lines.She could almost see the stage lights and feel the weight of Laura's shy smile and hesitant gestures.This role meant everything to her.It was a chance to prove she could handle complex emotional material, that she was more than just a pretty face who could memorize lines.

Not that she'd had much success proving even that much so far.Her acting resume was a litany of minor roles: Townsperson #3, Party Guest, Woman in Park.The closest she'd come to a breakthrough was playing Mercutio's page in "Romeo and Juliet" last spring.She'd had exactly two lines, but the director had praised her "excellent stage presence."

Jessica wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a polite way of saying she was better at standing around than actually acting.

But Laura—Laura was different.Jessica understood her in a way she'd never connected with a character before.She knew what it was like to feel trapped by other people's perceptions, to long for something more while doubting your ability to achieve it.Maybe that was why the rejection from the Salt Lake City theater had hit so hard.

If she couldn't convince them she had depth, how could she ever expect to make it as a serious actress?

The sound of a door clicking shut echoed through the theater.Jessica looked up, expecting to see someone leaving, but the few audience members remained focused on the screen.The sound must have come from the film, though something about it had seemed more immediate, more real.She shivered, realizing how cool the theater had become.The festival organizers were probably overdoing it with the air conditioning again, trying to combat the heat generated by the projector.

Through the emergency exit at the far end of the theater, Jessica could see slivers of early evening light.The festival would be in full swing now, with crowds gathering for the premier of some hotly anticipated documentary about climate change.She'd heard it was already generating Oscar buzz, though Jessica had learned to take such rumors with a grain of salt.Everyone at a film festival seemed to think their project was destined for greatness.

Still, there was something magical about being surrounded by so many creative people, all pursuing their dreams with such determination.It reminded Jessica of why she'd fallen in love with performing in the first place, back in middle school when Mrs.Hawkins had cast her as the Wicked Witch in "The Wizard of Oz."She'd been terrified at first, certain she would forget her lines or trip on her costume.But the moment she stepped onto that stage, something had clicked into place.

For the first time in her life, Jessica had felt completely present, completely alive.

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