SPOTLIGHT

by Dora Dresden

  They were both leaning against the counter, watching their respective sections of the diner dully. With only one customer between the two of them—an elderly man who came in every Wednesday without fail for the soup of the day—they had gotten to talking about Abby’s middle of the night dates with William.

  Abby told her coworker about that first night when they had gone for chocolate cake and chamomile tea and hand in hand gotten to know each other.

  “I’ve lived in a little bit of everywhere,” William had said.

  Abby had laughed at that. “That’s an odd way of putting it. A little bit of everywhere,” she repeated. “I like that.”

  “It’s true,” he explained. “My father was in the military, air force specifically. We’d live on this or that base for a little while. Or he’d get deployed and my mother would drag me and my little brother off to live with this or that relative for a couple of years. We lived in Europe for a few years when I was very young and then there was a monotonous series of little Midwestern towns. Eventually when I was seventeen we stayed on a New Jersey base. I sneaked off to New York City on the train one day and I loved it more than anywhere I’d ever been. So here I stayed and here I am.”

  Abby loved the way William spoke about himself. He had an amusingly unique pattern of speech, a quirky accent that he admitted he’d developed from all the traveling he did as a child and all the reading he’d done during that travel. Everything he said was like a story, and though he looked away sometimes or reddened like he was remembering something he’d rather not elaborate on, he was still fascinating to watch and listen to.

  Tales of ordinary, hum-drum South Meadow had seemed boring after all that William had seen and Abby had not elaborated much. And she had left out Angelica. Abby didn’t know why she didn’t mention her twin when she talked about her parents and the little house she had lived in her whole life. It just hadn’t seemed like the time to bring up that nearly ten-year-old grief. But now her omission compounded her guilt.

  William had been open with her that night and every night since. Their trip to the little twenty-four-hour café near their apartment had become a nearly daily thing. A standing date that existed whenever their paths would cross and they had a few free minutes to grab tea or coffee or that infamous chocolate cake. Abby had already begun to lament what it was doing to her dancer’s figure, but she relished the time with William to get to know him better or even to sit together in silence while he worked on his story and she memorized lines for this or that audition.

  Aside from those wonderful quiet rendezvous, William had taken it upon himself to show her a few of the sights. He had been more than shocked when she admitted to having never been to Central Park, and the rushed stroll they’d sneaked in before she had to go to the restaurant and he’d had to go to the office had been particularly special for its brevity.

  William had shown Abby his favorite movie theater in Greenwich Village. He’d taken her to a little Italian restaurant for lunch whose entrance was only accessible through a near literal hole in the wall. She had even gone with him after one of her shifts to get a haircut in a barbershop full of colorful characters who made good-natured jokes at William’s expense about his pretty lady friend. He had taken her to Chinatown and hadn’t given up even when he realized that teaching Abby how to use chopsticks was a hopeless endeavor.

  And of course, there were all those wonderful café moments when he’d feed her a spoonful of cake and she’d smile at him and he’d laugh until he was red in the face at the bit of chocolate that had gotten smudged on her teeth. William had taken her to all of his favorite places, wanting to share himself with her in every single possible way. But when he had asked Abby to go to a church service with him she had said no.

  William had clearly been taken aback by her reluctance but he had politely not asked anymore about it, only smiling at her sadly with a searching, thoughtful look that made her guilt swell and her loneliness rise in the pit of her stomach.

  “I’m spending too much time with him,” Abby said to Noelle. “I’m losing my focus. I’ve been auditioning less and less and I haven’t heard from any call backs.”

  Noelle cracked her gum and rolled her eyes simultaneously, a particular skill of hers.

  “It’s not instantaneous. It’s a lot of hard work. You know that, Abby. Most people try for years and years before they get even one small role. You can’t give up after a few rejections and you sure can’t let life get in the way, but you also can’t give up on having a life. I don’t know what things were like in North Meadow—“

  “South Meadow,” Abby cut in. “There is no North Meadow.”

  Noelle gave Abby one of those disbelieving city girl looks she frequently wore but continued. “Right. I don’t know what things were like for you out in the country. But you’re here now. Let it go, girl. Let yourself be happy. It’s the only way to succeed. ”

  Abby gave her coworker a surprised grin. It wasn’t like the wise-cracking, jokester Noelle to be so serious or so intuitive. If Noelle could pick up on Abby’s hesitation and her lingering resistance to hoping for too much, then William certainly could. And maybe that was part of the hesitation she sensed in him.

  “You’re right, Noelle,” Abby said.

  “I know I am,” her coworker replied. “I’m always right. Now promise me you’ll talk to him about what’s really bothering you. You can’t start a relationship without honesty.”

  Abby laughed. Noelle could sometimes be incredibly wise beyond her youthful years. Abby supposed that was what the city life did to you; she had already experienced so many new sensations since she had moved in. Besides that, what Noelle said so closely mirrored what Abby had read on her inspirational calendar that morning that she knew it was not a message which she could just ignore.

  “Okay, I promise,” she said. “I’m going to let William know who I really am.”

  And who Angie really was, Abby finished firmly to herself.

  Chapter Seven

  Abby was resolved. As she left the Home Sweet later that night after completing her double shift, the clock nearly ticking towards midnight, she sat on the empty, silent subway car and thought of William and what she would tell him, how she would begin.

  Being alone in New York City was a rare thing. She had begun to make her peace with the ever-present throng of people pushing up against her and past her on the streets and sidewalks and subways of the energetic urban island. Finding an empty subway car, even at this hour was particularly unusual. Abby was resolute in using the time alone and being in the quiet as an opportunity to think, however the quiet itself along with the grinding sound of the subway train chugging forward served as an even greater distraction.

  The truth was that she wasn’t much for quiet considerations anymore. That’s William’s fault, she thought, bemused. Lately they had been together all the time and when they weren’t Abby found her mind always turning back to her handsome neighbor. Even lying awake at night she’d think about the thin apartment wall that separated them. She’d find herself wondering what he was doing and wondering if he was thinking of her with the same secret elation.

  They’re burgeoning close relationship reminded Abby of happier days with her twin, the days in which they had been an inseparable duo and always able to trust each other with everything. And then how all of that had been ruined. Abby had ruined it herself with a mix of jealousy and resentment. She had ruined it by not being open with her sister and she was determined to not let history repeat itself in her new almost-romance with William.

  Abby used the rest of the subway ride and the brief walk up to her apartment building to formulate just exactly what she was going to tell William about her past and the grief that she couldn’t seem to let go of. By the time she was riding up in the elevator she had settled on a calm explanation about Angelica that she hoped to deliver calmly and sans the firestorm of emotion that was rollicking in her chest. It’s like a monologue, she told herself, a re
citation. She did not wish to be ruled by her emotions in this.

  There was, as she had become used to expecting, a yellow sticky note affixed smack dab in the middle of her door. It read in that familiar neat font, “There’s a piece of chocolate cake waiting with your name on it, no matter how late.” William had not even signed the note, not that he had to, but his customary little smiley face was in the corner and even the sight of that tiny doodle could cause Abby’s heart to flutter with excitement.

  This particular evening her heart was trip hammering for a different reason as she carefully peeled off William’s note and headed over to his door. She didn’t even bother going to her own apartment first, knowing that if she stopped to freshen up, she’d start to have crippling doubts about what she was doing. In front of William’s door she paused to take a steadying deep breath and mumble a quick little prayer for strength and then plunging in, she knocked, rapping her knuckles lightly on the door.

  William’s answer came so quickly she half wondered if he’d been close by, waiting for her. It was an astoundingly flattering possibility. He opened the door wide and leaned in that tantalizing way of his against its frame. He was so tall that he could plant his hands well above the doorway and lean out like a kid swinging on a jungle gym. Abby loved how flush with excitement he looked, how excited he always was to see her, whether it had been a day or an hour since last they’d spoke.

  His blonde hair was wet as if he’d just come from the shower and he had it slicked back, away from his face for once. He wore his glasses today, which told Abby he’d done naught else but work on his writing. They were balanced on the tip of his nose and Abby pushed them up for him in greeting. He beamed at her.

  “Hungry?” he asked, as a hello.

  “Not really,” she replied. She’d eaten only a few bites at the diner but the conversation she knew she was about to have was twisting her stomach so tightly into knots that food was the farthest thing from her mind and the last thing she wanted.

  “Actually,” she began. “There’s something I wanted to talk about.”

  She’d rehearsed that bit too, with an actor’s dedication. The usual ‘we need to talk,’ had seemed too trite and daunting of a phrase to start with. She didn’t want to make him feel like a deer in the headlights. William was still staring at her and smiling though, and she wondered if she had been too vague.

  “Okay, sure. There’s actually something I wanted to ask you too,” he said. He stepped back away from the doorway, opening the door even further. “It’s a bit messy but want to come in for a bit?”

  Abby realized only then that she had never been inside William’s apartment before. She nodded her ascent and followed him inside.

  “No fair, your apartment's bigger than mine,” was the first thing she said as she looked around. In truth it was not really that much larger, it only looked that way because it was so bare. William was clearly a bachelor, with his Spartan, throw pillow-less futon and his single dining chair. Set up in the corner was a simple desk with a laptop and swivel chair, a jacket and crumpled tie draped over its back. There was a book case next to the desk that was positively teeming with books that looked like they had all been read and reread lovingly.

  The only thing of real value was the sound system. It was quite impressive with various knobs and shiny buttons. Abby realized its large speakers were set up right against the wall their apartments shared, which explained why she’d always been privy to William’s never-ending series of personal concerts.

  “I think I’ve got a few more square inches on you, yea. But don’t worry, Len more than makes up for it in the rent. Perks of being in a corner apartment.” William said. He scrunched up his face into a grumpy scowl, a perfect impersonation of their money-grubbing landlord that had Abby giggling for a full minute.

  William gestured to the futon and Abby took a seat gingerly, worrying the whole thing would slip from its metal frame or unfold under her weight. Boys, she thought fondly.

  William had wandered into the kitchen. “I’d offer you refreshments but the choices are only water and water.”

  Abby laughed again. “I guess I’ll have water then, please.”

  He came back carrying two bottles of water. He kept one for himself and tossed the other one to Abby which she caught deftly. He grinned at her like he was proud and surprised at her ability to catch.

  “So what did you want to ask me?” Abby asked when he had taken a seat in his desk chair.

  Okay so I’m stalling, I’m allowed to stall, she thought to herself wryly.

  William nodded. He paused to open and take a long sip from his water bottle before speaking. Maybe he’s stalling too, Abby thought, suddenly a little nervous.

  “It’s about what I asked you the other day,” William finally began. “About coming to a service with me. I get that you’re not into that and no pressure, but maybe something else? There’s a Fourth of July barbecue coming up. Just for a few people from the church that are our age. Think of it as an opportunity to meet new people. My friends would love to meet you. I think they’re starting to believe I’m making you up.”

  Abby felt a new surge of regret at her lack of openness. Here William was trying to open himself up, to share every aspect of himself with her so that they one day might start a relationship, but Abby was holding back as she always did. No more, she said to herself.

  Abby stood from the futon and walked to where William was sitting. He looked up at her so earnest and hopeful that she wanted to take him into her arms, to embrace him as they had yet to embrace, but she resisted. It would only be another stalling tactic and the time for that had passed.

  Instead she picked up the wrinkled tie that hung behind him from the back of his chair. The tie was a pale, steely blue, the exact same color as his eyes, and she held it in her hands folding it and refolding it, trying to smooth out the wrinkles as she finally started to speak.

  “I used to have a sister,” Abby heard herself say at last. “I used to be a twin.”

  Abby dared to look up as she spoke that last part. William face didn't change from its solemn consideration as she explained and the only indication that he had even heard was the slight squinting of his eyes. Abby found she couldn't watch his stony face lest she be overtaken by emotion. She looked down at the tie again.

  “I used to be a twin, but my sister died,” she took a deep shuddering breath. She knew she was repeating herself but nothing that her mouth was saying was going as she planned. The emotion was flooding her and she spoke straight from her heavy heart. “I've never had to say that to anyone before. You see back home in South Meadow everyone knew everyone. It was just that sort of town. So of course when Angelica passed away everyone knew.”

  “Everyone,” William echoed dully and Abby took it as a question.

  “Really, everyone. My sister was sort of a local celebrity. She used to sing, in church at first and then in Christmas parades and at summer fairs. When South Meadow got its first shopping center she sang at the ribbon-cutting. She was in the newspaper.”

  Abby shook her head dispelling the memories. She was getting distracted by the past. This is not what she meant to say. William watched her, patient, as serious-looking as she had ever seen him. She licked her lips, collected her thoughts, or tried to.

  “Anyway, when she died in the car accident, everyone talked about it. It was like all of South Meadow mourned for her. Like they'd lost a part of their own family.”

  “But you were her sister,” William cut in so abruptly that Abby was almost startled. “You were really her family. You knew her the best.”

  “But I didn't,” Abby almost yelled, so great was her conviction. “We used to know each other so well we could finish each other’s sentences. We used to share the same thoughts and feelings but it all went wrong. Because of me.”

  “It wasn't your fault,” William said with such fierce passion that she almost believed him. She wanted to believe him.

  “It wa
s. True, we grew up and we got restless the way teenage girls do. But you have to understand how things were for us. We both wanted to be actresses. Being movie stars wasn't enough, we weren't interested in Hollywood. We wanted New York. We dreamed of Broadway and performing every night to adoring crowds. Especially Angie. Angie loved the spotlight and she earned it. She was prideful yes, but she was amazingly talented.”

  “And you?” William asked.

  “I let her have all the attention. At first I was happy to. But then I started to secretly resent how driven she was. I began to push her away and she pushed back and soon we weren't sister or friends, we were enemies.”

  Abby shook her head. She looked down at the tie in her hands. She had been twisting it fiercely between her fingers. It dotted a darker blue in spots and she realized that tears were slipping down her face and landing on it. When had she started to cry? She hadn't even noticed.

  “After we lost her I felt like I had let everyone down, because I wasn't her,” Abby continued, her voice a warble that was thick with her sorrow. “I didn't have her angelic voice or her amazing bravado on stage. I didn't have her charisma. I only had her face.”