–James
I shifted in the chair, lifting my foot to the pillow on the seat and resting my heel there. I didn’t know what to write, but I wanted to say something.
Dear James,
I know what you mean about enjoying the distance. What I’ve gone through this year doesn’t compare with your loss—not by a long shot, but it’s given me a new compassion for people facing adversity. Just a short note to say I’ll be praying for you, for peace in your life, as well as healing. I won’t pray for the dating and marriage stuff. That’s all too crazy anyway.
–Harper
Seeing that Luke hadn’t taken my hint and closed our match, I opened his message hoping for something to cheer my mood.
Hey Harper,
Close us out? No way! : ) This is my main line of communication when I’m clearing land in the Northeast Territory. It’s my social network when I come back to the cabin after work and cook dinner. Tonight’s menu? Canned stew and dinner rolls.
My ten days is almost up here, then it’s back to civilization: Wasilla, Alaska, population 9,000. I’ll have to tell you about my other job sometime—bush pilot and delivery guy. I fly supplies to missionaries in remote regions.
So, I’m not planning on closing our match, at least not until I get to Wasilla. : )
–Luke
Our lives couldn’t be more different. Not only was Luke three thousand miles away, he lived in wilderness. He had to drive for days to see another living soul. I had to take the train to Central Park just to see trees.
My cell phone rang. I slid back the desk chair and dashed to the bedroom to answer it.
“Harper? It’s Avril. The show’s over, and I just now heard what happened to you. I can’t tell you how disgusted I am with you-know-who. I about lost it with Tabby when she told me.” The crowd noise behind her made it difficult to hear. “The whole cast knows, and they aren’t too crazy about it either.”
“They’re not angry with Ben, are they?”
“Go higher up the food chain. I love actors. They’re totally self-focused half the time, but some things will definitely pull them together. The star kicking out the understudy is one of those things. It’s ticked off a lot of people.”
“Like who?” I asked, covering my ear to better hear her.
“Well, Tabby’s not real thrilled. Marshall wants to file a grievance with Actor’s Equity. My gosh, Harriet said—and this is an exact quote—she said, ‘I’m gonna go in there and strangle that woman.’ She was obviously joking, but I think you get the picture.”
“I knew I liked Harriet.”
“Oh, Harper, this whole thing stinks. How about I bring you some of those Chinese egg noodles you love?”
“And maybe some hot and sour soup?”
“Yes, definitely. I’m super pumped from the show, so I hope you aren’t planning on going to bed anytime soon. We can stay up all night talking, eat Chinese food, and I’ll fill you in word for word on what everyone said tonight. It probably won’t change things, but it might make you feel better.”
Avril was right; talking wouldn’t change my situation, but her call did make me feel better.
I closed the cell phone and set it on the desk. Luke’s message stared at me from the computer screen. For a second time, I thought about shutting down our online match because of the distance, and yet a part of me agreed with his line of reasoning. What harm was there in just having fun with it? I’d paid for the membership.
Luke,
Life in New York couldn’t be more different from where you live. The only trees here grow in Central Park, and I’m fairly certain even the governor can’t cut them down.
You’ll have to tell me more about piloting goods to missionaries, unless Wasilla proves too great a distraction for you.
–Harper
By 10 p.m., Avril had returned home bearing gifts: Chinese carryout boxes, one with curry chicken, another with brown rice, and an extra-tall container of hot and sour soup. I peeled open the lid with my thumb and inhaled the comforting aroma.
“Fill me in on everything that happened tonight,” I said, getting two soup bowls from the cabinet behind the island.
“No one likes seeing a member of the cast mistreated, even if that someone is the new understudy,” she began. “You don’t know Marshall very well, do you? He’s a by-the-book kind of guy when it comes to this stuff. Actor’s Equity union member. If anyone does something wrong to a fellow actor, Marshall’s right there. Tabby’s like that too, but you have to know Helen hasn’t exactly been kind to Tabby either.”
“She hasn’t?”
“Are you kidding? Helen will only talk directly to Ben about things, even small matters. She considers Tabby to be of no importance; she won’t even acknowledge her. Harriet’s just on your side. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she made that very clear in her own outspoken way.
“And I spoke with Ben after Tabby told me what happened, and he’s just down. He should be basking in the show’s success, but it’s only made Helen harder to work with. To make matters worse, Ben told me Helen’s agent, Maureen Burns—whoa, is she one scary broad—insisted on dinner with him and Helen after the show, which Ben was looking forward to like a root canal.”
“Poor guy.”
“It’s a ruckus, but you know how the winds can shift with a cast. They can be standoffish about accepting a newcomer, but you were definitely getting some good vibes backstage tonight.”
“I’ll take what I can get. There’s been such a rivalry hanging over this cast. Helen’s against Tabby, Tabby’s hostile to me, Helen and her agent are going after Ben. There’s such a spirit of acrimony. It’s not right.”
Avril took a bite of noodles dangling from chopsticks. “I don’t know why it’s that way, but yes, I’ve definitely noticed. As for the show, the audience absolutely loved it. People are so excited to be in the theater because every other Broadway show runs until ticket sales dry up, but with Apartment 19, there are only forty shows left, baby, and we’re out.”
“Thirty thousand tickets on an island of eight million.”
“There were actually scalpers outside the theater tonight. Oh, and get this, when I walked out onstage in the first act, I could literally feel the excitement in the theater like it was a rock show. It’s crazy, so crazy I’m actually thinking of inviting Jon to come see me in the play.” Avril smiled at me, her own problem resolved. “Tabby told the cast there are a few Annie Oakleys reserved for us to invite friends.”
“Have you told him yet?”
Avril sighed. “No, and he hasn’t mentioned anything. All the advertisements just mention Helen, not me, and he’s too busy to sit around reading theater reviews. So, it will be a surprise.”
I was tempted to give Avril my disapproving face, but just kept it to myself.
“I was going to tell him yesterday, but it was a timing thing. I mean, I really don’t think it’s that big a deal. So what, I haven’t told him I’m actually a working actress. There’s probably things he hasn’t told me, but now that the show’s a hit, I’m sort of excited to tell him.”
“You’d let him know before you walked onstage?”
“Absolutely. I think some fair warning is in order. I’ll just say, ‘Would you like to come see a show I’m in?’ and he’ll say, ‘Of course! What off-off-off Broadway theater are you performing at?’ and I’ll say ‘Brace yourself, Jon. I’m starring at the Carney Theatre in Apartment 19, and I’ll leave a ticket for you at the Will Call window.’”
I smiled. “You know, he may actually go for that.”
Avril set her chopsticks across the dinner plate. “It always works out, Harper. You just have to learn to go with the flow.”
At 1:43 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of someone talking in our apartment. A woman’s voice, ra
spy and low, was coming from the kitchen. Startled, I raised up on one elbow to listen.
I tossed off my covers and jammed my arm into the sleeve of my robe, yanking open the door to find a sleepy-eyed Avril emerging from her bedroom across the alcove and looking like a mirror’s refection of myself. We’d both heard it, the amplified breathing and the woman’s voice.
“Hello?”
The apartment was dark but for the whisper of yellow light coming from a night light next to the sink, and a pinprick ruby dot the answering machine displayed.
“Harper, this is your agent, Sydney Bloom. Will you please pick up the phone? Harper, I realize it’s late, but I have to talk to you. Please call me as soon as you get this message.”
We both charged into the kitchen and pushed the button for the speakerphone.
“Hey, we’re here. What’s going on?” I said, my voice rough with sleep, edgy from the rush of adrenaline.
“Good. I caught you. For a minute I thought you might be out somewhere. I tried reaching your cell phone, but it goes directly to the message. Anyway, that’s not important. Harper, are you sitting down?”
“No, I’m standing in the kitchen with Avril. Sydney, what’s going on?”
“Here’s what’s going on, Ben Hughes has fired Helen from the show. Apparently, her agent requested a business dinner right after the show tonight, or last night, whatever. Anyway, Maureen Burns has been Helen’s agent forever and has a reputation for giving directors migraines. Maureen told Ben they had a right to some of the box office for Helen’s performances. After going back and forth for an hour, Maureen wouldn’t budge, and Ben told Helen she could clear out. He agreed to pay Helen for Sunday and Monday night, but said she wouldn’t be performing on Tuesday. So guess who is?”
“Are you kidding? Ben fired Helen from the show?” I said.
Avril looked at me with an exaggerated look of shock.
“Sydney, this is incredible. But how could Ben do that?”
“Ben had already spoken to his business partners. Apparently, she’d brought this up to him before, and they agreed it wasn’t in her contract. It’s a money issue pure and simple, and I guess Helen’s been making some other demands that haven’t gone over well, and this was the last straw. As for the tickets, the producers are willing to risk that the interest in the show far outweighs the number of ticket holders who will demand a refund. Ben just telephoned me to write up a contract. You’re moving from understudy to lead role. Harper, you walk onstage tonight at the Carney in Apartment 19.”
“I’m in a state of shock.”
“All of Broadway’s going to be in shock tomorrow morning when word of this breaks out. Helen is a legend in New York, and she’s just received the best reviews of her career. But Ben’s young enough, and brash enough, that he wasn’t going to bend over backward to acquiesce to the star’s demands.
“Helen and Maureen must have wagered that a sellout meant she was indispensable,” Sydney said. “In fact, just the opposite proved to be true. It’s new school meets old school, but you can bet every New York theater critic will be back out to the Carney tonight to scrutinize your every move.”
“Okay, now I think I’ll sit down,” I said. “Yesterday I was told to become invisible.”
“Take a deep breath, Harper, and try to get a good night’s sleep—if that’s at all possible. I’d expect a phone call from either Ben or Tabby first thing in the morning.”
~ Fourteen ~
Avril and I were drinking coffee when Tabby called from the back of a taxi, somewhere on the upper East Side, if I overheard her giving directions to the cabbie correctly.
“Good morning, Harper. By now you’ve heard the news, Helen’s out and you’re in. Ben and I met for breakfast early this morning to hammer out how we’re going to make this transition. Can you and Avril make a lunch meeting today at noon? We’ll need to go over a few things with you.”
“Sure, of course.”
“Good. Midtown Deli is on Fifty-seventh Street. Ben and I will meet you there. The theater press are going to absolutely have a field day with this.”
I cleaned up the kitchen, rinsing off our breakfast cups and plates while Avril took a shower. She came out of her bedroom thirty minutes later dressed and ready to leave.
“I’m just going to meet Jon for a quick coffee at Cafés. It’s right near his office, not far from Midtown Deli. Do you want to come along?”
“No,” I told her. “I need some quiet time to get ready for tonight.”
Avril came close, a look of optimism and reassurance brushing her cheeks. “Harper, don’t worry. You’re going to be fine.”
“I just want to be prepared,” I said, not mentioning the butterflies gathering in my stomach.
“You will be,” she assured me. “See you at Midtown Deli.”
Avril closed the door behind her, and the apartment fell silent. I spent the next forty-five minutes drinking coffee, reading my Bible in one of the living room’s comfy chairs, and lapsing into still moments of prayer whenever a passage plucked a chord. There was so much for me to be grateful for. Every time I said “thank You,” my soul overflowed like a cup of coffee poured past the brim and onto the saucer. I had endured entire days in Chicago when I didn’t leave my apartment, lying in bed in melancholy silence. I spoke to no one except God and heard no sound other than the ticking clock until … the phone call. Understudy. Like Lazarus, I felt called out from a tomb.
How much stillness is really possible when you’re whirling on the Potter’s wheel? I closed my eyes again, attempting to settle the vertigo of accelerating events. I finally gave up and returned to the alcove. I flicked on the computer before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth, tired of the taste of coffee. When I returned, I pushed the Bookmark button for LoveSetMatch.com and saw one new message awaiting me in my in-box.
PHOTOS FROM ALASKA
I clicked to see three new pictures, beautiful landscapes of Alaska’s wilderness. Five caribou listening at a riverbank, a snowy mountainside behind them. The fog on a lake in the early morning, a lone canoeist paddling across the water. A close-up image of a single yellow wildflower. Inexplicably, the pictures made me feel at peace. A slice of simple life. I scrolled down further.
Hey Harper,
I took these shots with the camera I use to document my work. Maybe you can stick them up on the fridge if you get tired of looking at skyscrapers. : )
–Luke
There was a “PS” at the bottom.
Hey, just a thought. If you ever want to instant message me, my handle is Forestry4B.
A new and sudden rush came over me, like when you stand on a high dive for the first time, staring down into the blue pool from a great height, and realize you’re going to jump. I glided the cursor to LoveSetMatch.com’s main tab page to find the IM button—a green oval the color of sour apple candy. I felt nervous and excited, all my emotions that morning a pulse of high spikes, and clicked on the button. An address window appeared and I entered Luke’s ID, Forestry4B, typed Hello? and pushed Send.
And then … nothing.
I stared at the computer screen for a few minutes, waiting. When nothing happened, I figured Luke just wasn’t around. Then a communications box appeared in the center of the screen.
Is that you, New York?
I stared at Luke’s message, momentarily confused—as if he’d only been a figment of my overactive imagination until now.
Harper: Yes, it’s me.
Luke: I see you got my last message.
Harper: I was just reading it, enjoying the beautiful pictures you sent me. Thank you.
Luke: I keep a camera with me in the Jeep. Yesterday, it was unbelievably beautiful up here, I had to share it with somebody.
Harper: It was nice of you to pick me.
There was a pause. What do you say to someone you’ve never met, and can’t see sitting in front of you?
Luke: I didn’t know if you’d IM me or not. I thought it would be nice to talk to you. I mean, the emails have been great, but IM makes Manhattan feel a little closer.
Harper: I didn’t know there was an IM feature until a day ago. This whole LoveSetMatch phenomenon is still new to me. How long have you been subscribing to it?
Luke: I signed up for three months. This is somewhere in month three for me.
Harper: Sorry for the cliché, but meet any interesting people?
He hesitated before answering, and I couldn’t tell if I thrown him a tough question or if he’d left the computer to go refill his coffee.
Luke: Some. Most are nice, and almost all live in the lower forty-eight. Friendly, but no love connection so far. How about you?
Harper: I’m not sure I’m LoveSetMatch material. I prefer to be in the same room with the person I’m falling in love with.
Luke: Do people still do that? LOL. One day we all woke up to a world that texts, twitters, and emails. I’m not sure it’s progress.
Harper: Tell me about Alaska. There must be a few real flesh-and-blood people up there who still talk face-to-face.
Luke: There are folks up here like that. I see them at the coffee counter where I have my breakfast most mornings, when I’m not out in the Northeast Territory. My family’s in the logging industry and tree-planting business. I work for my uncle Don, as a surveyor, environmentalist, fire preventionalist (yeah, I just made up that word), and tree farmer.
Harper: And also a pilot?
Luke: That’s my side job, ministry, my leisure pursuit. There are communities scattered across Alaska with fewer than two hundred residents. Depending on the season, I fly supplies to missionaries serving in remote regions, who are either snowed in or just have cabin fever. You’d be surprised what a few almost-hot Papa John’s pizzas and copies of the latest People magazines can do for the morale of families serving in the tundra.
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