Broken Juliet

by Leisa Rayven

  And so, Ethan and I orbit each other. Get on with things. Learn the art of pretending. Hone our craft to lie to others as skillfully as we lie to ourselves.

  And every morning, the first thing that goes through my brain when I see him is, “I’m fine.”

  *

  Erika leans on her desk.

  “This term’s acting assignment focuses on all types of passion. Romantic, sexual, suppressed, violent, artistic. I’ll be assigning each of you excerpts designed to confront and challenge you. Turn those uncomfortable feelings into something you can use. A lot of the plays are controversial and contain issues of a sensitive nature. I expect you to handle it with maturity. Mr. Avery, I’m looking at you.”

  Jack does his best “Who, me?” expression, and everyone laughs.

  “You’ll have four weeks to rehearse and you will present your pieces the week before Presidents’ Day weekend. Questions?”

  Jack puts up his hand.

  “Mr. Avery?”

  “Please say you’ve given me something from Equus. I’ve always had a thing for horses.”

  People laugh again.

  “As a matter of fact, no. You’ll be performing with Aiyah in a little piece called Soft Targets. It’s quite controversial, sexually.”

  Jack rubs his hands together. “Ooh, tell me more.”

  Erika suppress her grin. “It’s about men who enjoy having their female lovers sodomize them with monster strap-ons.”

  Jack’s face drops. “What?”

  Erika hands out the group lists as Jack turns to Lucas and says in a whiny voice, “She’s joking, right? That was a joke?”

  I take the list and skim it to find my name.

  The Killing of Sister George

  Cassie—Sister George. Chain-smoking alcoholic lesbian. Ex-soap opera actor. Psychologically sadistic.

  Miranda—George’s lover, Childie. Passive. Simple.

  The character description makes me nervous. I like to think I can rise to a challenge, but this character is so far out of my wheelhouse, I have doubts I can pull it off.

  I look through the list of the other plays. They all have an element of the shocking or taboo. It turns out Erika wasn’t joking about Jack’s excerpt. He’ll be playing a married businessman who pays a dominatrix to regularly spank, degrade, and sodomize him. When I look over at Jack, he’s a little green. Aiyah, on the other hand, is grinning with sadistic glee. She often tells Avery how much she wants to smack him. Now she’s going to get her chance.

  Miranda, Troy and Angela are doing something called Picture Windows, in which people fall in love with inanimate objects. Lucas and Zoe are doing Unwrap Me, a play examining a married couple who enjoys cross-dressing, and Ethan has been cast with Connor in . . .

  I almost laugh out loud. It’s bad enough that Erika cast two guys who hate each other in the same play, but to make matters worse, Enemy Inside is a touching love story about a gay soldier coming to terms with his homosexuality.

  Oh, my.

  Connor is playing the closeted gay soldier. Ethan is the experienced and caring love interest who convinces him that loving another man isn’t a sin.

  My, oh, my.

  I find the concept vaguely arousing. In reality, I think the likelihood of Ethan pulling off a character who’s loving and patient is a major stretch. Also, he regularly glares at Connor like he wants to pummel him. Trying to convince an audience he’s attracted to him? Erika couldn’t have come up with a more difficult challenge.

  I glance over at him. He’s frowning down at the piece of paper like he can make it say something different if he just concentrates hard enough.

  A sharp laugh bubbles out of me. He looks up and scowls, so I suck the inside of my cheeks to stop myself.

  Oh, this term is going to be fun.

  *

  Erika rubs her forehead and sighs. “Miss Taylor, you have to stop laughing. We’re wasting time.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I fail to stifle my giggles. “I know it’s not funny. I just—”

  “Miss Taylor!”

  I’m lying on the floor and Miranda is straddling me, and every time I laugh, she bounces up and down, which makes me laugh more.

  “Miss Taylor, please!”

  I take a deep breath to try to calm myself. “I’m sorry. I’m ready.”

  Miranda sighs. She’s used to kissing girls. I’m really, really not.

  “Right. Let’s try it again. Remember, this is one of the truly intimate moments in the play. It’s when we see a brief glimpse of George’s vulnerable side. How she genuinely cares for Childie despite how she treats her. We need to feel the sexual tension between you. Are you clear?”

  “Yes. Clear.”

  It doesn’t make this any easier. Doing a love scene with Ethan was difficult enough. Doing one with another girl is totally out of the realm of my experience. Still, that’s what this whole term is supposed to teach us. That passion is passion, no matter who it involves.

  My passion is kind of rusty. Maybe that’s why I’m having so much trouble.

  “Okay. Stand and go to first positions. Take a moment to center yourselves.”

  I stand opposite Miranda and close my eyes. Breathe. Remind myself to treat this just like any other character. I project myself into George’s mind so I can discover her motivations. She’s experienced with women. With Childie. She loves her even though she torments her.

  We start the scene. I’m agitated, but Childie calms me. Strokes my face. For once, she makes the first move. She kisses me gently then pulls back, hesitant as to how I’ll react. I’m shocked by how forward she is, and although my first instinct is to punish her, she’s looking at me with such hope I can’t bring myself to do it.

  I kiss her back, passionately. She’s so beautiful. As innocent as I am corrupt.

  We fall to our knees and continue to kiss. Then, in an act of unparalleled boldness, she pushes me onto my back, straddles me, and grinds against me as she buries her fingers in my hair. I pull open her shirt and palm her breasts before flipping her onto her back and becoming the aggressor again. She wraps her legs around me as I kiss her neck.

  We say the last few lines as we pant into each other’s skin.

  The scene ends, and Miranda and I stand and await Erika’s notes.

  “Well, ladies, that was—”

  “Fucking amazing!” Jack leaps to his feet and applauds wildly. “Best play ever!”

  “Mr. Avery!”

  “No, seriously, Erika. Can these girls do that scene for the rest of the year? Because it’s seriously . . . stimulating. Stirring stuff.”

  “Dude,” Lucas whispers, “you might wanna sit down. It’s kind of obvious how much you enjoyed it.”

  Avery immediately covers his crotch and sits. Everyone laughs.

  “Shut up, bitches. There are hot chicks making out in front of me. What do you expect? Every straight guy in this room is currently sporting wood. Hey, Holt. Let’s see the size of your tent.”

  Ethan rolls his eyes and flips him the bird. He looks at me for a moment before dropping his gaze and shifting in his seat.

  The passion I’ve just dredged up for the scene is now snaking out toward him. I shove the emotion down. It’s like trying to shove a pillow into a shoe box. Stupid passion.

  This is why we’re not friends anymore.

  *

  A huge roar of “Asshole!” comes from the next room, and Connor and I exchange a look. Our friends are playing some asinine card game, and as usual on these Wednesday night get-togethers at Jack’s house, Connor and I are in charge of snacks. I may not be able to cook, but I can open a bag of chips with the best of them, and Connor is the King of Frozen Pizza.

  We make a good team.

  I watch as he unwraps a couple of frozen pies with the finesse of a magician.<
br />
  I find myself staring at his hands. He has lovely hands. Actually, most of him is lovely. Sandy brown hair. Brown eyes. Handsome face. Nice body. Best of all, he is one of the sweetest, most caring men I’ve ever known.

  It’s a pity that doesn’t seem to be enough for me.

  “Do I have a booger?”

  “Huh?”

  Connor smiles, and suddenly the whole room seem brighter. “You were staring.”

  I shake my head. “Just admiring the pretty.”

  He shrugs. “Okay. I can live with that. But if you think those bags of chips are going to open themselves, you’re sorely mistaken. Get to work, lady.”

  He passes me a bowl, and I dump in the Doritos as he holds up the bag of cheese. “If I don’t make it as an actor, Pizza Hut managers all over the country will be lining up to hire me.”

  “You make it sound like that’s your fallback plan. Even if you become a stage star, you might need an extra job. Theater paychecks can be crappy.”

  He laughs. “Yeah well, becoming stars in any capacity means we have to first pass this term’s acting class, and it seems like Erika’s making that as hard as possible with these passion scenes.”

  He puts the pizzas in the oven and sets the timer while I grab two beers from the fridge and pass one over. “Well, I’d better start looking for my second job now, because I can barely get through my scene without giggling like I’m high.”

  “Oh, please.” He uncaps his beer and takes a drink. “You have nothing to worry about. Your scene with Miranda was amazing yesterday.”

  “Are you saying that because you’re a guy who gets off on two women kissing? Or are you basing it on our actual performance?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Cassie, give me a break. I’m not Jack. I am capable of watching two women make out like demons without objectifying them.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  He turns away as he mumbles, “No matter how fucking hot it was.”

  At the mention of his name, Jack walks into the kitchen.

  “Are we talking about Miranda and Cassie again? Cool, because I’ve been meaning to ask you a question, Cassie. Is Miranda a better kisser than Holt? I’m sure the answer is ‘Yes’, but I’d like to hear it in your own words. Be specific.” He goes to the fridge, grabs a beer, and opens it before looking at me expectantly.

  “Forget it, Jack. Miranda and I don’t kiss and tell.” Plus, I’ve perfected the art of blocking out what it was like to kiss Ethan. “Besides, Connor will soon be able to give you a play by play of Holt’s kissing technique. Aren’t you guys up to rehearse tomorrow?”

  “Unfortunately,” Connor says, and takes a long pull of his beer.

  Jack rubs his hands together. “I think Erika was going for maximum crowd entertainment when she cast you two together. I’m taking bets that it’s going to be the most awkward kiss in the history of lips. Cassie, you want in on the action? You could clean up.”

  “No way. I have faith that Connor’s going to make it work.”

  Jack laughs loudly before heading back into the living room.

  Connor takes another slug of his beer. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but we both know Holt and I are going to suck. Ethan’s never made a love scene work with anyone but you, and if he can’t pull it off with the girls in our class, he has no chance with a guy. Let alone a guy he very clearly hates.”

  “I don’t think he hates you.”

  He gives me a look. “Every time I’m within five feet of you, he glares like he wants to beat the shit out of me.”

  “Yeah, but that’s only because he doesn’t know you’ve done twelve years of karate so you can defend yourself against your asshole brothers.”

  “Even if he did know, it wouldn’t matter. He’s still hung up on you, and I pity the guy who dates you next, because Holt will probably murder him.”

  I lean against the counter and sigh. I doubt what Connor says is true. It seems as though Ethan’s becoming more indifferent to me every day.

  Connor chuckles and I look up to see him staring at me. “What?”

  He shrugs. “I was thinking that I should flat out kiss you one day in front of Ethan just to see if his head would explode with rage. I suspect it would.”

  I smile and shake my head. “Yeah, let’s not do that.”

  He puts his beer down and places his hands either side of me on the counter.

  “You’re right, even with my karate training, I’d run the risk of him landing a lucky punch. A better idea would be for you to kiss me. He’d never hit a girl. Especially not you.”

  He stares at me in a way that says, “I’m joking, but not really. Kiss me.”

  I’m spared the humiliation of turning him down when Jack comes back in to retrieve more beer.

  “If you two are going to make out in here, just know there is no fucking on the kitchen counter. I don’t want my meat going anywhere near where your meat has been, if you know what I mean.”

  Connor grabs the chips and salsa, and mutters, “I’ll take these in to the guys,” before exiting to the living room.

  I feel myself blush, and hate it.

  Jack shakes his head as he takes the caps off four more beers. “Goddamn, Taylor. You’re not content to have Holt completely tied in knots? You have to bewitch poor old Connor, too? The boy has it bad.”

  I scrunch up the empty Doritos bag and throw it into the trash. “I’m not bewitching anyone, Jack. Connor sees me as a friend. That’s all.”

  He lets out a short laugh. “Okay. Sure, he does. And I watch porn for the plot lines.”

  I know he has a point, but thinking about it makes me tense. Since the breakup, Connor’s become one of my closest friends, and I love him like I love Ruby. But every now and then, he stares at me in a way that reminds me he wants more.

  Ethan, on the other hand, stares at me less often these days.

  I’m ashamed to say I miss it.

  *

  “Okay, stop there.”

  Ethan drops his head and steps away from Connor. They’ve been working on this part of the scene for the past forty-five minutes, and it’s not getting any better.

  They’re both frustrated, and so is Erika.

  “This is a lesson for everyone here,” she says as she stands and walks onto the stage. “If you share a natural chemistry, that’s great. But there will be times when you have to perform scenes with people who hold no attraction for you, and you still need to find a way to make it work.”

  “Easier said than done,” Ethan mutters.

  Erika ignores him. “This sort of scene is particularly difficult for men, because there’s a heterosexual indoctrination that implies being gay means you’re not a real man, and let me tell you, that’s absolutely not the case. This story is about homosexual men who put their lives on the line for their country. And it’s written by a man who lived it.”

  She turns to Ethan and Connor. “So, you two need to get past whatever macho bullshit is holding you back from being intimate with each other, and understand that sometimes you can’t choose which body your soulmate resides in. Love is love. Passion is passion. And people who are lucky enough to feel it should grab it with both hands. That’s what this play is about.”

  Ethan slumps onto one leg and rubs the back of his neck. He seems completely at a loss. Connor’s much the same.

  Erika calls them over. “Might I suggest you both take a moment to close your eyes and recall a person with whom you’ve shared a strong emotional or sexual connection? Picture that person in your mind. Let the way they made you feel invade your body, stir your emotions, boil your blood.” Both men close their eyes and breathe. Their postures relax a little. “Do you feel that?”

  They nod.

  “Stay in that moment. Let the sense-memory of that connection infuse you.”

 
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn to see Jack leaning forward. He whispers, “How weird would it be if they were both thinking about you? Like, seriously?”

  He smiles and sits back, and I try to squash the rush of flutters in my stomach.

  Yeah, that’d be way too weird.

  Erika preps the boys for a few more minutes then gets them to start the scene again.

  Ethan closes his eyes and breathes, and when he opens them, his whole demeanor has changed. His expression softens. His voice lowers. As he speaks, he slowly moves closer to Connor.

  “You want me, Ty. Don’t try to deny it.” He’s calm. Self-assured.

  Connor counters his calm with barely suppressed panic. “I do deny it.”

  “I can see it in your eyes.”

  As Ethan closes in, Connor crosses downstage to put distance between them. “We’re not just mindless animals. We control our actions, our actions don’t control us.”

  Ethan isn’t deterred. He maintains his slow pursuit. “You can tell yourself that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you can’t stop watching me.”

  Connor gazes at him. Mesmerized. “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m not. Everything about me turns you on. It scares the hell out of you, and so you yell, and rage, and push me away, but it doesn’t change anything. You could live a hundred lifetimes and never find what you have with me.”

  They’re really inhabiting the scene. Becoming their characters. Ethan has transformed. He’s incandescent. It’s so good that I can’t stop a whole mess of emotions welling up. My heart kicks into overdrive, and there’s a roaring sound in my ears.

  “Rage all you want,” Ethan says. “Curse my name. Pretend all of this passion is coming from a place of hate, but I know better. Your passion for me is strangling you. Telling you that you’re someone different from who you thought you were all these years.”

  Then he touches Connor. Lovingly. Reverently. Connor is vibrating with indecision. Terrified by their obvious connection.

  The way Ethan is, the words he’s saying . . . it’s too much. Something primal stirs inside me, low and snarling. It wants what it sees. That Ethan. The one staring at Connor and speaking words that resonate through me.