"Neither one of them. Damn, this is taking forever. He's got a good voice and a couple of times I almost thought he had it, but he left me cold. No fire, no passion. He's so down. As for Nora, she's not bad, but I don't like her looks."
"What does that mean?" Jessica asked evenly.
"Nothing personal. She looks small-town. We want somebody who looks like she knows what it is to be rich even though she isn't anymore."
282 ~ Judith Michael
Jessica nodded thoughtfully. "I'd hke to use both of them."
"You're joking."
"No, I Hke them. Give them a couple of weeks of rehearsal and you'll be agreeing with me."
"No way. You know how many times I've done this, Jessie? More than you can shake a—" She stopped. "Okay, I promised I'd never do that. I'm not holding it against you that you've never directed before; I'm just questioning your judgement in this one case."
"Two cases. They're better than you think, Hermione. I'm not guessing; I know it."
There was a silence. "Well," Hermione said. "A little conflict here. And everything's been so sweetness-and-light. What if I said absolutely not?"
"I don't answer hypothetical questions. You won't say it because you do trust my judgement. We wouldn't have gotten this far if you didn't."
"Well, God knows that's true." Hermione tapped her pencil on the table. "You know there's a lot of money at stake."
"A third of which is mine. I don't intend to lose it."
"Okay." She dropped the pencil and slammed the table with her palm. "Done. I hope to God you're right. I'll go get them."
When they returned and Jessica told them they had the parts of Doris and Stan, Edward Smith looked at Jessica. She was startled at his intensity. He was better looking than she had thought, and he was gazing at her with a kind of brooding interest she found attractive and intriguing.
"Can you take a leave of absence?"she asked him. "From now until at least the end of April. And if we continue the run at another theater, even beyond that."
"I'll find out." He went to the telephone on the wall. Nothing tentative about him, Jessica thought.
"I want to thank you," Nora was saying. "I'm so excited about this play, so incredibly excited, I've been praying for a week—"
"Have you ever been rich?" Hermione asked bluntly.
"What? Rich? Well, we had plenty of money when I was growing up. Why?"
Jessica let them talk, her thoughts wandering. When Edward hungup and turned and saw her looking at him, he smiled, the first smile Jessica had seen from him. "It's a little difficult, since I just took this position, but I think we can work it out. Summer vacation helps. I haven't thanked you
A
CTS of Love ~ 283
for your trust. It means a great deal to me that you of all people think I have some ability on the stage."
Jessica's eyebrows rose. " 'Of all people'.^"
"I went to New York from Toronto several times to see you on stage. I never dared hope we would meet. I'd like to ask you to dinner; is that improper, now that we're going to be working together .'^"
Jessica smiled. "I don't think so."
"Tonight, then.^"
His eyes were gray; she had not noticed that. "I have a meeting with our stage manager at five; can we make it eight o'clock?"
"I'll come by for you. If you'll give me your address . . ."
Jessica wrote it down and handed him the slip of paper. "We have to know definitely about the leave of absence. If there's any doubt, we'll have to find someone else."
"There is no doubt," he said quietly. "I will play this part."
When he and Nora left, Hermione said, "He perked up. There might be something there after all. When are you going out with him?"
Jessica shook her head. "It always amazes me that you can be carrying on a conversation and listening to another one at the same time."
"I couldn't hear all of it; Nora talks nonstop, without commas, periods or paragraphs. We're going to have to slow down her metabolism. Which night?"
"Tonight."
"Fast work. Have you thought about it? It might not be a good idea. First of all there's something about him that bothers the hell out of me. Don't ask me what; I don't know yet. But I wouldn't trust him."
"Hermione, you don't know anything about him."
"Instinct, pure and simple. But my instinct and I don't usually let each other down. And there's something else. If you're his director, don't you think that's really all you ought to be? At least while you're directing. One thing at a time, one set of complications at a time."
"I don't see a problem."
"I do, Jessie. I don't think you should go out with him."
"One dinner. Then I'll rethink it."
After a moment, Hermione shrugged. "You're a big girl; I can't tell you what to do. You'll still be at the meeting with Dan at five?"
"Hermione."
284 ~ Judith Michael
"Well, yes, that was a stupid thing to say. I do know this play comes first with you. And second, third and fourth, too. What are you doing until then?"
"You and I are going to sit here and make plans. I'd like to have the read-through on Monday, if that's all right with you. Then we'll start rehearsals on Wednesday. I need to go back to the Drama Theater to make measurements, and I'd like to photograph the backstage: dressing rooms, prop room, everything. Could you arrange that? And you said you'd have scene and lighting designers for me to talk to this week."
"Monday afternoon for Augie Mack, the scene designer. I'm still talking to a couple of lighting guys; give me till next week on that. I'll let you know what time for the Drama Theater, probably this weekend, early in the A.M., before the tours of the Opera House begin. Do you have any idea how much you've changed since we first met?"
Jessica looked up from her list. "Changed? How?"
"How, she says. Listen to you. All of a sudden you're all put together; you know what you want and how to get it, or to get other people to get it for you. I'm very impressed. Particularly since I think I played a small but meaningful part in getting you out of those dumps you were in."
"You did." Jessica smiled. "And now I'm ordering you around. I apologize."
"Don't. I like decisive people. Now, here's my list of things to do. Oh, by the way, will you be home at seven-thirty?"
"Yes."
"Good. That's when the fax machine arrives,"
Dear Luke, nere is my rax number. I'm about to go out so I won't write now, but tbis weekena I'll tell you all ahoui Journeys End. We nave a cast ana we're on our way. Jessica.
Dearest Jessica, here's my fax number. The Magician is sold out through March, which makes everyone very happy. Monte no longer worries about w^hat he calls its "ultimate success "; as far as he's concerned, we've made it and he's looking around for another play. I've just given him Kent's new one, all three acts, though we agree the third still needs a lot of work. Would you like to read it now or w^hen he's finished w^ith the revisions?
~ 285
I spent the weekend at Monte and Gladys's place on Kiawah Island (as big as their place in Amagansett). The beach is just outside, with joggers at all times of day and night, and, when everyone is asleep, only the sounds of the w^aves to break the silence. It w^as a lot of space and a lot of silence for one person and I thought about you all weekend. You "would have enjoyed the conversations and the people. It was a weekend when all the vacation homes were filled with couples and I was more aware than ever of how the w^orld prefers partners; how it subtly nudges to the side single people who, among many logistical problems, remind others that they, too, may be alone one of these days — and who vi^ants to be reminded of that?
I hope I don't sound self-pitying. I enjoyed Monte and Gladys, but I did miss you. Congratulations on finishing your casting; do you have photos of your four people? Tell me about themi. And about yourself. All my love, Luke.
P.S. I note from the time of your fax that you w^ere getting ready to g
o out at about eight p.m. Are you having a busy social life?
Dear Luke, I went to dinner with one or our cast memDers, wno is taking a leave or ahsence as assistant airector or the university drama department. I plucked him from a group or students ne was leading through the Wharr and it may he a gamble that rails, hut what a triumph ror him and us ir it works!
It s late Monday arternoon now, very hot and humid, hut in my living room it's blessedly cool and quiet. Today we had our first read-through, so I can tell you about that and the cast at the same time.
She wrote steadily for an hour, adding to her descriptions many of her ideas for staging the play. It was like thinking aloud; like talking to herself. It was like writing to Constance.
Thank you ror listening to all this. Writing helps me make sense or all the parts that make up a play. I never realized how many thousands or details directors have to remember and make time for. I'm learning so much that sometimes it seems I'll burst rroni the sheer
286 ~ Judith Michael
mass of it, tut tken I tkink ot writing to you ana putting it all in order and tnat's enougn to make everytking seem manageable again. Aren't faxes amazing? It's tke closest tking to a conversation. Jessica.
Dearest Jessica, a telephone would be closer. All my love, Luke.
The telephone rang. "Jessica, it's Edward. Will you have dinner with me tonight.f^"
"No, I don't think ... I'd rather stay home tonight, Edward. I'm sorry."
"Tomorrow night, then. One more dinner before rehearsals begin. I'm afraid of a lot of things changing after that."
There was a pause. "All right, then, tomorrow night."
"I'll come by for you as usual. Eight o'clock.''"
"Yes."
As usual. After only one dinner together, he was trying to push her into a shared history. She liked him; she was drawn to him and enjoyed his company, but now she felt pressured and she reached for the telephone to tell him she could not go with him tomorrow night, either. But then she glanced at the one-sentence letter that had come that day from Luke. Everyone pushes, she thought. Everyone wants at least some degree of control. And dinner with Edward will be pleasant.
Dear Luke, I prefer tke fax. Jessica
E
dward drove, his face stern as he dealt with traffic, and they went to Bilson's, on the upper level of the International Passenger Terminal at Circular Quay. The restaurant, sleek in silver, black and gray, with a single flower on each table, made Jessica think of a stage set with the harbor as a dramatic background. Edward had reserved a table beside the wraparound windows that gave a panoramic view of the Opera House, the single steel span of the Harbor Bridge, and the bustle of boats trailing foamy white wakes across the choppy water. Below, lovers and families strolled on the Quay, stopping to watch slack rope walkers and mimes, a woodworker building models of sailing ships, and tourists lined up to board a paddle-wheel showboat with a jazz band playing on the upper deck. Daylight faded as Edward and Jessica ate, and the lights of Sydney came on, outlining the bridge and the city's skyscrapers, illuminating the sail-like roof of the Opera House, and casting a pale glow on the water that was reflected in the restaurant's silvered ceiling.
Looking up at ripples that seemed to be moving above them, through the windows and out to sea, Jessica smiled. "I feel like a mermaid. Or at least my idea of one. What a good set this would make."
Edward waved the waiter away and refilled their wineglasses himself. "Maybe you'll use it in your next play."
"Maybe." She smiled again, familiar now with his attempts to get her to talk about herself At their first dinner she had turned all their conversation back to him, always having a new question or comment ready when
~ 287 ~
288 ~ Judith Michael
one of his answers began to wind down. She knew now about his family in Canada, his brothers and sisters, his father's career as a concert pianist and sudden death from a heart attack when Edward was sixteen. "My mother married again and we felt betrayed: a wedding less than a year after our father's death, and a stranger in the house. In fact, he was good to us and we had a good home, but we all left, one at a time, as soon as we graduated high school. Three of us went to college; the others found jobs in Toronto, Detroit and Los Angeles. We've never been together again."
"You must miss them."
"Not at all. Once in a while I miss knowing that people are somewhere close, but that's a weakness I try to conquer; a throwback to a time when I was young and wanted someone around to listen if I had a complaint or a problem. I suppose most people spend their lives searching for that, but I stopped long ago."
"Because you found it in the theater. Isn't that what you mean.'' That's as close to a family as you'll find. You haven't been married.^"
"Once. We're still friends, but she's in Canada, and neither of us is any good at writing letters. Well, the theater. I'm not really in it, you know; at least I wasn't until now."
"But you said you'd acted in Canada."
"Not in major theaters."
"But still, that feeling of sharing, of creating something in harmony, don't you take pleasure in that when you have it?"
"I don't know. It seems that I'm a very poor sharer. There's so much at stake when you open yourself to criticism—"
"It might be admiration."
"Possibly, but not likely. Most people find things in me to criticize. That's not a complaint; I understand what they see. I'm not smooth or sophisticated or witty; I hoard my emotions; I usually see the dark side of things. My mother said I was a nice kid who measured my life in empty rooms and roads I walk alone."
Jessica caught her breath. "Is that how you measure your life?"
"Mosdy. I'm good with students, so I don't qualify as a hermit; it's just that I have no real intimacy. But that's not a complaint, either. We do the best we can with our lives and usually it's enough to make us moderately happy. I'm telling you more than I've ever told anyone; you're a good listener and you don't give the impression that you'll take advantage of any of this."
Acts of 1
o V E ~ 289
"Advantage? Good Lord, why would I?"
"People do, usually for power."
At that, she had changed the subject, not wanting to linger in his bleak landscape. But now, sitting across from him at Bilson's, she led him to talk about it again. "Where is your mother?" she asked.
"She and her husband bought a condo in San Diego. They like being warm."
"You don't see them at all?"
"Not for years. And we don't correspond; everything seems much too long and complicated to put down on paper. Some of us telephone now and then, but we've drifted so far apart that we find ourselves talking about the weather. I don't even think of them as part of my life anymore; they're something left behind, like people I've met and apartments I've lived in. And that's fine; I don't need them and they show no signs of needing me. The truth is, I've been satisfied to be alone all my life; I find it hard to give what people seem to need, so everything ends in unhappiness. I'm best at my work, where there's always a distance between people and there's no confusion about where we belong or how we're supposed to treat each other. I'm content with that."
Jessica contemplated him, thinking that he made her life of the past few years seem like a joyous social whirl. "I think in some ways you're very courageous, and I admire that, but I think you need people more than you admit. Why else would you ask me to dinner?"
"I asked you to dinner because your eyes are magnificent and I wanted to look at them for a long time. Why are you here?"
"To listen to extravagant praise."
"Why do you fend me off when I ask you questions about yourself?"
"Because I want to talk about you. How can you be an actor when you're so alone? Actors learn by being part of the world. You've been alone since high school."
"Except for the small blip of a marriage that lasted six months. Yes, but I do look at people, I analyze them in my mind,
I think about them. The only thing I don't do is get close to them."
"Poor man," Jessica said softly.
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "You mustn't pity me. Especially now, when I have you to talk to. Thank you for being so understanding; I haven't felt this comfortable with anyone in years. You're an amazing woman, mysterious, fascinating.
290 ~ Judith Michael
sensitive—" He stopped. "You'll call that extravagant praise."
"Yes," she said, but she did pity him, and admire his honesty, and the warmth of his hand on hers was enough to make her body stir and open to feelings she had tried to clamp off as soon as Luke left, and so her voice was soft, and she let her hand stay where it was.
"I want to see a lot of you," he said. "As much as possible. We've made such a fine beginning . . . I'm worried about what will happen when we begin rehearsals."
Jessica felt a flash of annoyance. She pulled her hand away. "We'd better talk about the play before we go any further. If we don't agree on that, we don't agree on anything."
His face folded into the long, melancholy lines it had had when she first saw him. He dragged his hand back to his lap. "You're going to tell me the play comes before everything."
"In just those words. I'd like you to feel that way, too."
"How can I, when I've just found you? No, don't frown, please, Jessica, please listen. It's true that I can be alone—that I am alone—but when I'm with you, even after such a short time, it's as if I've found an anchor. I'm usually afraid of getting close to people, but you make me feel at ease, with myself, with the world. I never meant to say the play isn't important, but I'd throw it away in a minute if I thought it would destroy what we have."
"We have very little," she said coolly. "Two dinners, which hardly adds up to a passionate love affair. Edward, this play means everything to me. If I fail... Well, I can't fail. This has to be my success, the kind of success I can build on, and nothing can distract me from that. I'm glad we're friends, but I won't go beyond that. Not yet."
He hesitated, then nodded brusquely. "Whatever you want." He signaled to the waiter. "Check, please."
Acts of Love Page 34
