Page 46 of The Fadeaway
We make plans for Thursday and I finally let myself feel the thing I’ve been putting off – excitement.
18
Katrina
Joel takes it all in.His long legs stretch out in front of him and he props his head on one large palm. I should have just written a story about Joel Moreno. He’d look hella good on stage with a spotlight on his ridiculously chiseled face.
I hear Brody and Tabitha, but it’s Joel I watch as they embrace and recite the words I’ve written. It’s surreal to have written something in the silence of your apartment and thenpoof!watch two people make it come alive.
When the scene ends, I leave him to chat with Brody. The expression he wears tells me he’s not quite feeling it yet and I want to make sure I capture any insights he has.
“Do you think the scene needs more dialogue?” I ask when I approach him.
“Nah, I don’t think that’s it. It’s missing something. The connection isn’t there. Why is Imelda so drawn to me? And vice versa? I’m not saying we necessarily need to tell the audience the backstory, but I want to know, so I feel it in my bones. Ya know?”
Nodding, I swallow a lump in my throat. I let my shoulders slump feeling inadequate and like a total fraud. Why did I think I could do this? I don’t know anything about all-consuming love.
Brody walks off, the rest of the cast and crew already packing up, and I return to Joel.
“It’s a killer story,” he says.
I check his expression but only find sincerity. “Thank you. Brody wants me to help him understand the connection between Hector and Imelda. That first scene is critical.”
It’s the only intimate scene with both Imelda and Hector in the entire play. We breeze past the happy courtship and then the entire second act is told through a split stage. Imelda living her life taking care of Coco while missing Hector and then Hector touring the world writing songs. It’s a unique way to show their life together and powerful, I hope too, but it means this scene where they meet has to be amazing.
“Hey.” He leans down to catch my line of vision. “You’ll figure it out.”
“It needs more angst and passion. It sets the tone for the entire play. If the audience doesn’t buy it here, they won’t feel the pain and anguish later.”
“Pain and anguish, huh?” His lips twitch. “I thought this was a love story.”
“It is… but uhh… it doesn’t have a happy ending.”
“Don’t love stories typically require a feel-good ending?”
“No, not in every case.Phantom of the Opera, The Fault in Our Stars, Me Before You,and basically everything Nicholas Sparks has ever written.”
The stage clears off leaving Joel and me alone. We walk to the front and I rest a hand on it. A tactile reminder of what is at stake. My words, my vision will be brought to life. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.
“Close your eyes,” he says, linking our fingers on one hand and reaching for my other on the stage.
“Why?”
“No questions. Just do.”
I snort. “Okay.”
“You asked for my help. This is me helping.”
I let my eyelids flutter shut. Sensations overwhelm me –heoverwhelms me.
My skin pricks and I feel his warm breath on my cheek before he speaks.
“Tell me how you see it. Don’t try and make the words pretty just tell me everything. What do you see?”
It takes a moment for me to focus on the scene and not the way it feels to be this close to Joel. What do I see?
“They’re standing away from the crowd, the festival is in the background – lights, laughter, music – but they’re oblivious to all of it.”
