Page 71 of For My Finale
Blossom squared her shoulders. “Alright, start again. From the top.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Gloria went back to her mark. Arty glanced at Blossom, looking slightly impressed, before doing the same.
This time, Blossom really watched them. She saw the way Gloria held herself, the way she dominated the space without allowing the tiniest moment of vulnerability.
“Stop,” she demanded. “Gloria, you need to show more fragility.”
Gloria turned sharply. “Excuse me?”
“Blanche isn’t strong,” Blossom said. “Lilah told you as much. She wants to be, but she isn’t. That’s the whole tragedy of her. She’s fragile and broken and trying to survive in a world that’s harsher than she is. You’re playing her like she’s untouchable, but Blanche is all about illusions, about pretending to be something she’s not. If you don’t show that, the audience won’t sympathize with her, she’ll come off as a spoiled brat.”
For a moment there was silence, then Gloria nodded slowly. “Alright,” she said simply, turning around and hitting her mark again.
Blossom turned to Arty. “And you need to be stronger. Your character holds all the power in this scene. Right now, you’re justreacting to Gloria, but you need to take control. You’re the one who decides how this goes,youmove around the stage andshefollows you.”
Arty nodded. They went again.
And this time, it worked. The scene unfolded with more tension, more depth. The power struggle between the characters was more pronounced. Gloria let her voice tremble, Arty set his shoulders, grounding himself more firmly. It felt… real.
Blossom took a deep breath in. For the first time, she could really see it all coming together. This wasn’t just a village hall production anymore, it was something more than that.
She thought of Lilah, of the way she’d spoken about Blanche DuBois. How she’d said that Blanche was doomed because she couldn’t adapt, because she couldn’t make herself fit the reality of the world she lived in. And she thought about how maybe Lilah was a little more like Blanche than she’d like to be.
Then she was sucked back into the scene, and the rehearsal went on.
THINGS WERE FINALLY coming to an end. The last of the cast was filtering out of the village hall, their murmurs and laughter fading away into the darkness as the heavy door swung shut behind them. Blossom let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension there. She was exhausted. Not just from the rehearsal, but from the weight of everything.
She hadn’t thought directing would be this draining. Lilah had made it look easy. But then again, Lilah made everything look effortless.
Blossom took a seat in one of the empty chairs, staring at the scuffed wooden floorboards. The echoes of the play still hung in the air, but she barely registered them. All she could think about was how empty the hall felt without Lilah in it. Without her voice, her presence, her fire.
A soft rustling of fabric made her glance up. Ives was there, standing near the back of the hall, arms crossed, watching her.
“You’re still here?” Blossom asked, surprised.
Ives tilted her head slightly, then walked over, dragging a chair with her. She sat down opposite Blossom and studied her, her sharp eyes missing nothing.
“How are you?” Ives asked at last.
Blossom forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
Ives scoffed. “Right.”
Blossom sighed, looking down at her hands. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say what you’re actually feelings,” Ives said. “Instead of pretending. Instead of telling me what you think I want to hear.”
“What does it matter?” Blossom said, irritation prickling at her skin. “She’s gone. That’s all there is to it.”
Ives leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “We knew this would happen,” she said. “I told you. I knew that the fancy actress would disappear overnight. It was only a matter of time.”
Blossom’s head snapped up. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Ives asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” said Blossom, her voice sharp and ringing through the empty hall. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Lilah didn’t disappear. She came and told me she was going. She…” She exhaled, trying to find the words. “She was trying to protect me.”
“Protect you?” Ives said skeptically.
