Play On

by Samantha Young

  Nodding my thanks, I turned back around and focused on the stage, trying to concentrate on the play. But my thoughts kept drifting back to Donovan. I’d stayed with my mom for a few months, reconnecting with her, and I actually got to know her. She only worked a few hours a day at May’s Coffeehouse because she had Trixie to look after. It galled me somewhat that a dog was getting more consideration than her kid ever did, but I didn’t want to hold any grudges. Not against her or my dad. I was too tired of it all. Plus, it was obvious my mother had changed.

  We had a good few months together where I learned more about my dad in the years after I’d left. Being there allowed me to grieve more than anywhere else could have. I could do it freely because only mom understood how complicated my feelings were toward my father. He was the hero who let me down, but I’d forgiven him a long time ago for that. If I was honest, I didn’t like the man he became, but I loved the man he had been with all my heart and soul. In a way, I’d already grieved losing my father a long time ago. What I needed my mom’s help with was getting over the fear that he’d never forgiven me for leaving him.

  Moreover, I told my mom the truth about my life in Edinburgh, about Jim, Seonaid, Roddy, and Angie. And about Sylvie and the man who’d made me flee home to Indiana.

  There was no judgment from her; she was only sorry she hadn’t been there to help me through.

  What surprised me most about leaving for Edinburgh was how hard it was to get on that plane and leave my mom. We’d somehow, miraculously, bonded and I wasn’t sure I was ready to let her go yet. But Donovan wasn’t my home. Edinburgh was in my blood now and it called for me to return.

  As did Seonaid, Roddy, and Angie, every Sunday on Skype. Seonaid had been inspired by what she considered a brave decision to head home and face my fears.

  She faced her own.

  She told Roddy she was in love with him.

  His reply, “About fuckin’ time, woman.”

  Oh, and he told her he loved her too.

  Now they were either bickering or making out. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other and as happy as I was for them, I also secretly envied them.

  When I was in the States, though, I missed them and was desperate to get home and see what the world was like when Roddy and Seonaid were an item.

  My last push to leave Donovan was my mom herself. She told me she didn’t want to hold me back anymore and that she would come visit, and vice versa. So far that held true. Mom came to stay with me for a few weeks in the summer before I started my first semester at Edinburgh University. I got into their English Literature and Language program and had every intention of going on to get my master’s in education so I could teach. Once upon a time, I might have been interested in the psychology of others, but after my time with the kids at the hospital, I realized that I loved being around them. Teaching seemed like the next best thing.

  As for my kids at the hospital, I’d arranged with Jan so that I could Skype that first Wednesday I missed them. Although we were both sad to say goodbye, I told them I had to go home to the States to be with family, which wasn’t actually a lie.

  I missed them.

  So yeah, teaching was the right path for me.

  However, I didn’t want to give up on my dream of being on stage again. Pushing past my fears, I auditioned for Quentin’s company and to my surprise and delight, he let me in, even though he said that I was—and I quote, “From the blasted colonies.”

  Seonaid, honest as always, told me only a few weeks ago how proud of me she was for pulling my life together, and she’d never seen me so content, so at peace. It was like she was looking for reassurance too, though, that I was happy. And I told her I’d never been happier.

  It wasn’t true.

  But how I felt was real. I had been determined to change my life. I’d forgiven myself. I’d stopped berating myself. And I never wanted to feel like I wasn’t good enough for anyone ever again. Moreover, I was never going to put myself in the same situation I’d put myself in with Aidan Lennox.

  There.

  I said his name.

  What was Aidan Lennox but a fantasy created by my longing and circumstance? Yet thinking of him still hurt, so I rarely allowed myself to, which meant I rarely allowed myself to think of Sylvie, either.

  And I wouldn’t think about them now.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Jack who was playing around on his phone. “Rehearsal is running a little late tonight, right?” I whispered.

  “His Majesty forgets some of us have lives outside the the-ah-ter.”

  I grinned and was about to joke that we should pull the fire alarm when the large double doors at the back of the auditorium opened. A tall man stepped inside but it was too dark to make out his features.

  Jack followed my gaze. “Hey,” he called, “private rehearsals going on tonight, mate.”

  The man didn’t reply.

  Instead we heard Quentin yell, “Is that who I think it is?”

  The man strode down the aisle toward us and the light started to crawl up his body the closer he got. “Told you I’d be here,” his reply was deep and rumbling.

  It sent a shiver down my spine.

  I knew that voice.

  His face was suddenly alight and as he passed, his eyes flickered down to Jack and me.

  There was so much fire in those green eyes, I thought I might go up in flames.

  He certainly looked like he wished I would.

  Aidan?

  His expression blanked, like an eraser had come along and wiped it clean, and he jerked his face forward and strode to meet Quentin, holding his hand out. Our director grabbed Aidan’s hand and shook it, smiling from ear to ear. He clamped his other hand on Aidan’s big shoulder and shook his head in wonder. “Aidan Lennox, I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it.” Aidan grinned at him.

  I sat stunned, wondering if I’d been spun into an alternate reality. Or the past. Or some weird mix of the two.

  “Everybody,” Quentin gestured to us all, “this is my good friend Aidan Lennox. He’s a very successful music producer and composer. And for some ludicrous reason I will not question, he has agreed to write original music for our production!”

  Everyone clapped, excited about the idea.

  Me?

  I could wave goodbye to no offstage drama.

  It was hard to make friends with the people in my classes. There weren’t a whole lot of mature students, and those who were had partners and kids to go home to right after class. This meant, other than taking Jack up on his offer, I had no one to go to after rehearsal who wouldn’t see that I was distracted. Seonaid, Roddy, and Angie would all know something was up and I didn’t want to talk about Aidan’s sudden reappearance in my life.

  Not once in the five minutes Quentin took to introduce Aidan had my past love acknowledged me or the fact that we knew each other.

  He treated me like I was a stranger. One he looked through.

  After what he did to me?

  Laine was right—he could be an asshole to women.

  It was hard for me to reconcile the man that was just introduced to our company—that cold, aloof man—with the one who’d looked at me like I was the answer to everything good in his world. Was that what losing Sylvie had done to him?

  I cursed myself for the concern that overtook me. And for the way he was already consuming my thoughts. This wasn’t what I wanted. I needed a distraction!

  Quentin had called time on the rehearsal to hang out with Aidan and talk shop, and I didn’t need to be told twice to get the hell out of there. However, as I was leaving, I swore I could feel that chilly gaze on my back. Not able to help myself, I glanced over my shoulder before following the others out into the night.

  Aidan wasn’t looking at me. He was smirking at Amanda who gave him a little flirtatious finger wave as she walked away.

  To my horror, I felt a flare of possessive jealousy so intense, it was like the last eighteen months hadn�
�t happened.

  I went home. I avoided a call from Seonaid knowing as soon as she heard my voice, she’d know I was not okay. And I glared at my English paper, thinking how impossible it would be for me to work with Aidan on this play. My life was good. I was finally in a good place where I actually liked myself and the plans I had for my future. Why do anything to shake that up?

  It was time to find another theater group.

  The money my mom had given me was enough to afford the luxury of only working a few nights a week at a pub on the Grassmarket. I kept my flat in Sighthill to keep costs down, and bartending at The Tavern covered my food and electricity.

  Rehearsals for the play were Monday and Wednesday evenings, and I worked Thursday and Friday evenings. We were always busy at the pub given our close proximity to student housing. During classes that day, I’d vacillated between the need to fall asleep (I had not slept well the night before) and wanting to tear my hair out in frustration because my thoughts would not abandon Aidan Lennox. Moreover, I was trying to work myself up to call Quentin and tell him I was out. Knowing that was going to be unpleasant, it was taking me a while to gather the courage.

  I was on break at work that evening, considering using work as an excuse to leave the Tollcross Company, when my phone rang.

  Spookily, it was Quentin.

  Quentin never called.

  Texted demands, yes, but never called.

  “Are ye gonna answer that?” Kieran, my Irish colleague, scowled at me. He was a law student at Edinburgh and studied during his breaks in the tiny staff room at the back of the bar.

  “Sorry.” I stepped outside into the narrow hallway that led to a small courtyard at the back. “Hello?”

  “Good, you’re there.” Quentin heaved a dramatic sigh. “Change of plans. You’re now Viola.”

  “Uh … what now?”

  “Gwyn quit. Apparently, her dissertation is suffering and she needed to cut something out of her life. Considering she couldn’t learn her lines, I’m not exactly in mourning. So. My little Rain Man, you are now Viola. Congratulations. Be at rehearsals, usual time.”

  And he hung up before I could say another word.

  At once I wanted to fist pump the air because there was no way I expected to get a major part in any play so soon. We may have been an amateur theater company, but Quentin had worked hard for more than a decade to build up its reputation. His productions always sold out because he offered quality, affordable entertainment. The local media reviewed them. Jack had gotten work on an episode of a national TV drama because of his performance in A Streetcar Named Desire a few years ago.

  How could I turn down the chance to play Viola?

  Yes, I didn’t want the drama of having to deal with Aidan or the way he clearly could invade my every waking thought. But wasn’t running away from the situation something the old me would’ve done? This was my life. Mine. It was time to stop letting other people dictate how I lived it.

  That didn’t mean my hands weren’t shaking when I wandered back into the bar.

  “Are you avoiding me? I feel like you’re avoiding me,” Seonaid said as I hurried along Home Street, trying to block out the noisy traffic so I could hear my friend. She’d called as I was on my way to my first rehearsal as a major player.

  “I told you I had a paper to finish this weekend. How is that avoiding you?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Cee Cee, stop interrogatin’ the poor lassie. Ye ever think maybe she just wanted some peace and quiet fae ye?” I heard Roddy call from the background.

  I snorted, listening as she retorted, “She’s not you, Roddy. She actually likes having me around.”

  “I like havin’ ye aroond tae. I just like it better when ye’er no’ yappin’.”

  “You are lucky I know you’re trying to wind me up, Roddy Livingston, or I’d advise you to get reacquainted with your right hand.”

  “Remember he’s ambidextrous?” I said at the same time he said the same thing.

  Seonaid huffed but I heard her amusement. “Stop avoiding the subject. Is everything really okay?”

  I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her about Aidan. Seonaid was so good at bolstering me, inspiring me to be a better version of myself. But somehow, I couldn’t get the words out. Telling her that he’d walked back into my life like a stranger would make it more real, and there was still a part of me hoping I could bury my head in the sand and pretend he’d been a surreal dream.

  “Nora?”

  I scrambled for a lie. “I … um … I’ve been feeling a little swamped with school lately and I didn’t want to complain because I want this, and it seems so ungrateful to complain.”

  That sounded plausible.

  Seonaid apparently thought so too. “You’re still allowed to get stressed about it, though, babe. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “Thank you. I’m fine, though. I’m heading to rehearsal, in fact. I … uh … the woman playing Viola dropped out so they gave the part to me.”

  “Oh, Nora, that’s brilliant!” she cried. “I can’t wait to come see you in it.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled, still giddy that I’d actually be on stage playing this part.

  “Shame you grew your hair out, though. Doesn’t your character dress like a boy for most of the play?”

  I snorted. “Yeah, she does.”

  Once my hair had hit my chin, it grew like wildfire and to my delight, it now reached my shoulder blades. I usually wore it in soft waves created with my hair straightener—Seonaid showed me how.

  “Anyway, I’m almost there. Speak soon,” I promised.

  “Okay. Speak soon, babe.”

  We hung up and I attempted (and failed) not to feel guilty for lying to her. But I was already trying to deal with my own reaction to Aidan’s return. I didn’t need to deal with Seonaid’s too.

  By the time I walked into the building on Gilmore Place, it felt like there were small creatures surfing waves inside my belly.

  Do not be sick, Nora. Whatever you do, do not throw up.

  I’d like to pretend it was all about being nervous for my first day as Viola, but it was, of course, more than that. And the “more than that” was standing near the stage talking with Quentin and Terence.

  Quentin looked up at the sound of my entrance and gestured to me. “Viola arrives!”

  I flushed but attempted a smile. It may have come out a little grim.

  My director didn’t seem to notice, however. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I said, coming to a stop near them.

  To my disbelief my body hummed with absolute awareness of Aidan, like it used to. Would that damn feeling never go away? How was it possible to still feel that way when the bastard left me? Left me!

  Because of the awareness, the way the hair on my arms stood on end, my eyes were drawn to him, despite my anger. He was concentrating on his phone, texting someone. His top lip was pressed into his full lower lip and the strong muscle in his jaw popped out, like he was gritting his teeth beneath his cool façade. As always, he was unshaven, scruffy in a way that worked for him. I flushed, remembering how the scratch of his stubble elicited tingles through my body when we kissed. Once upon a time, he’d promised me I’d feel it everywhere, but we never got the chance.

  And now here he was.

  Ignoring me.

  Well, then.

  In denial of the pain that scored across my chest, I said, “No one else here yet?”

  Terence nodded to a door at the left side of the stage that led to dressing rooms and a small kitchen and public room. “Having a coffee. Still waiting on a few others.”

  I flicked one last look at Aidan but he was determinedly not looking anywhere in my vicinity.

  Asshole.

  Anger swirled in my belly and took out the earlier surfers, and I strode away like I couldn’t care less. I found most of the cast in the kitchen.

  “Here she is!” Jack boomed, standing up and holding his
arms out wide. “Our lovely Viola!”

  I rolled my eyes at him and then blushed when everyone cheered and whistled. “Stop it,” I said, gesturing for them to hush.

  “We’re pleased for ye, Nora.” Jack grinned.

  “No, Jack is pleased for himself.” Will smirked. “Now he can snog you and you have to snog him back.”

  While everyone chuckled and teased us, I took it in stride as I poured myself a quick coffee. “Yeah, pity Quentin isn’t strictly sticking to the original play, huh?” There wasn’t any kissing on the lips in the original.

  Jack held a hand to his chest. “Oh, how ye wound me.”

  We stood around talking and joking for a few minutes until Terence popped his head in to tell us we were ready to start. As we wandered out to the theater, I heard Jane asking when the costume mistress would be taking fittings. We’d already had our measurements taken but I wondered if I’d need to have another session with her now that I was Viola.

  Quentin’s vision for the production was a dystopian twist. To him it was set way in the future after a cataclysmic climate disaster and Illyria was an island that had survived and thrived. Our clothing would be modern meets Mad Max, and although our dialogue was from the original play, Quentin had sexed it up a little. There were moments when I, dressed as Cesario, would appear as if I was going in for a real kiss after Orsino kisses my cheeks, for example. Those moments were supposed to be thick with sexual tension on my part. And Quentin also wanted me to kiss Orsino as Viola when he finally learns the truth that I’m a woman. He said it gave the audience the satisfaction they were looking for, rather than questioning whether Orsino really loved Viola or was simply glad someone loved him when he’d been rejected by Olivia so many times.

  That last bit pricked me, reminding me of Jim. Although I was learning to forgive myself, I still wasn’t completely there, and I still questioned how I’d really felt about him. Had I run off and married him because I was allured by how much he loved me?

  Shaking the thoughts out of my head—I didn’t need them hanging around when Aidan Lennox was near—I grabbed a seat with the others. Jack took the stage with Terence, who was playing Curio as well as Malvolio since the characters never share the stage. We were starting from the top secondary to Gwyn’s departure.