Romance in the Rain

by Anthology

  Yet she was a pretend woman. She didn’t have to live after the play with the consequences of her actions.

  When I entered the theater lobby, I was surprised to find Ellis standing there, speaking to our stage manager, Jeanette. There was no way I could scoot by him without being seen.

  “You’re wearing the same clothes,” he said, examining my jeans and grey sweater. It was the first time I’d seen him frown.

  “Got distracted by my roommate. She wanted to talk about her boyfriend.” It wasn’t true, and I hated to lie, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by admitting I just wanted to get away. “Nice to see you,” I added lamely, “but I gotta run.”

  I dodged into the production booth, scarcely wide enough for three people. Beneath the glass pane facing the stage was the light board, a complex console of parallel switches. Lisa and a guy sprouting a wild cacophony of clay red hair were sitting on metal stools. They stopped laughing to turn to greet me.

  “Rodney.” The redhead introduced himself to me. “In this cramped space, you and I are going to resemble matches in a box.”

  “You make a striking looking couple,” Lisa added.

  “Don’t tell me I’m going to be cooped up for a week with a couple of punsters.” I groaned. Though I enjoyed writing comic scenes, I avoided puns, considering them the lowliest form of humor.

  “Look at this,” Rodney said, holding up a rectangular piece of wood, about six by twelve inches, with notches cut at various heights into one of the long sides. “I’ve got to use this to move the light switches. Lisa and I’ve got about seven of these. We don’t have enough fingers to push all of the switches that we’re supposed to move at the same time. I sure hope Jeanette knows what she’s doing.”

  “She doesn’t, but I do.” Gerald was leaning against the doorsill to the booth, one foot crossed over the other in a casual pose. I couldn’t tell if he was smiling at me or Lisa, but felt my face reddening anyway. In the dim light of the booth, I hoped he didn’t notice.

  “It’s important that you three don’t screw around back here. You have to be paying attention when the stage manager gives the cues.”

  I felt a little hurt at the rather brusque way he spoke to us. I couldn’t help but wonder how he might behave when truly angry.

  Gerald pushed between Lisa and Rodney. His sweatshirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing smudged soot on his forearms. Flecks of white paint frosted his dark hair. But he didn’t smell dirty: Gerald smelled like cloves and cinnamon—an unusual but not unpleasant cologne. He picked up two of the cutouts and, grasping one in each hand, he demonstrated the speed at which to shove the light switches upwards.

  “Be sure that you two are synchronized,” Gerald admonished, addressing the two novice light technicians. “It’s primitive, I know, but not every theater you’ll work in after you graduate will have state-of-the-art equipment.”

  I studied Gerald. Was he touching Lisa or rubbing against her in any way to show familiarity? I realized I knew almost nothing about the guy except that he could paint backdrops and follow a light designer’s plans to coordinate stage lamps.

  And he had a gorgeous smile.

  But whether he had a girlfriend, or even cared to have a girlfriend, from where he commuted, or if he had any interests outside of the theater, I knew next to nothing. He was cute and strong enough to hop on and off the stage with the ease of a feline.

  Yet, did we have enough in common to form any sort of personal relationship?

  I wanted to find out.

  In high school I’d buried myself in novels and plays, telling myself the reason was to prepare for the advance placement tests and essays required to earn a college scholarship.

  And I’d been successful, earning a full tuition scholarship for my freshman year at the U-Dub. But the truth? I hid in words because it was easier to manipulate people in my imagination or on paper than to deal with them in real life. So I lacked the experience of making all the dumb relationship mistakes and learning from them in high school, before launching into adulthood.

  In other words, I hadn’t a clue how to flirt successfully!

  How to be subtle enough to capture his attention if Gerald was watching me for clues that I was attracted to him, but not too obvious and risk rejection if he wasn’t.

  I wondered how experienced Lisa was at flirting and felt a pang of jealousy.

  Gerald and his sensual cologne then wedged into my corner. He explained which switches turned the sound on and off to the auditorium. In the cramped room, I couldn’t avoid touching him. My left arm bumped against his right; I wished that I had a pretty lacy blouse on with short sleeves so that I could have made skin contact. Instead, I wore a thick wool sweater pulled down to my wrists that made me itch.

  The sound system under my charge was basically two, foot-sized tape reels. Not rocket science. But was lust fogging my brain? I was so excited at being alongside Gerald, I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying.

  I hoped he didn’t notice. Trembling was not sexy.

  I’d never been in a production booth before, let alone had such an important responsibility as running the sound for a theatrical show. I didn’t want to screw up and wreck the play and look like a big idiot.

  But there was an unexpected complication.

  “Hand spin the first reel till the point is set on the line. This marks the beginning to the next sound loop: There’s about twenty of them. And here’s the tricky part.” Gerald turned his head and gazed into my eyes. I wondered if he could hear my heart thumping like a drumstick banging on a gong. Yeah, I was a helpless victim of an enormous crush. I could feel my face redden again, blushing. “In the booth you can’t hear the sound that’s playing.”

  “Then how am I supposed to know if I have it too loud or too soft?” I was sure to mess things up. No wonder the university offered their plays at a discounted price compared to the professional theaters in the city. Every night the audience was at the mercy of a stage crew of amateurs.

  “Just pay close attention to the cues Jeanette gives you through the headphones.” Gerald then explained how to amplify and dim the sound.

  My fear must have been apparent, because he added, “I have confidence you’ll do a good job, Kara. That’s what the dress rehearsals are for: practice. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

  And he winked at me!

  Didn’t he? Or was it the florescent lamp flickering above us?

  Gerald stepped into the doorway to offer some final advice. The lobby light framed his head and body—he resembled a dark angel. “Be sure you guys keep your headsets on or you’ll miss the stage manager’s cues.”

  He shut the door. The booth suddenly felt suffocating and dim. I didn’t realize how much light and air had been coming in from the lobby.

  How in the world was I going to secure Gerald’s attention while cooped up in the booth?

  Not for the first time I wished for an older sister to show me the ropes; I loved Hector, but there was no way I was going to ask my younger brother for tips on how to flirt with men. The teasing would be merciless.

  I certainly couldn’t ask my roommate for advice: She liked creepy guys with chains hanging down from their earlobes to their nipples. And if I asked Dana, she’d take it as a green light to pursue Ellis. So I was left to ponder silently to myself: Did it mean anything that Gerald acknowledged me by name again? Or was he just showing off a good memory?

  You’re a writer! Be creative. You have a week to figure it out. Man, I’m so pathetic! Yeesh!

  But joy of joys, he hadn’t shown any particular interest in Lisa.

  “Gerald’s cute, isn’t he?” was the first thing out of Lisa’s mouth when the door closed. “I wonder if he has a girlfriend. You aren’t dating him, are you, Kara?”

  My stomach plunged to my knees. Did she sense I had a crush on him? “No.”

  “Perfect.” Lisa perched on her stool like a little sparrow in its nest.

  “Once you
gals get to know me better, you’ll be begging to keep that door closed,” Rodney interrupted, seemingly miffed at not being the focus of our conversation.

  I rolled my eyes but Lisa giggled girlishly, tapping Rodney on the arm while tittering, “I think you’ll be the one locking the door, not us.”

  So I had competition for Gerald’s affections.

  And I didn’t like it.

  Not one little bit.

  Time to learn how to flirt—creatively but…

  Demurely.

  Scene 3

  After the first act the director, Douglas, stepped onto the stage and pointed out to several actors where they’d missed their marks. The three of us in the booth could hear his gravely voice, faint but clear, through Jeanette’s headset.

  So I could hear some sound from the auditorium after all. Why did Gerald say I wouldn’t hear anything in the booth?

  “We’re on break. You can cut the music,” Jeanette growled.

  Was that what I was playing? Straining, I could hear the lilting of violins over the headphones. I switched off the sound and let the reel run toward the next black line—somewhere… Oh, there it was. I reset the pointer on the line indicating the next sound loop.

  I was a nervous wreck, but we three novices didn’t do half-bad with the sound and the lights. Or so I thought till Jeanette started reprimanding us.

  “You guys were late on half the light cues,’ she scolded over the headsets. “And you, Kara, is it? You bumped the volume up so fast it sounded like a cartoon effect. Ease it up more slowly.”

  “Yes,” I replied obediently.

  Rodney, parked between Lisa and I, laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  I poked my right forefinger into his chest. “At least you can see the lights on the stage. If you guys leave some actor standing in the dark, you know you’ve screwed up. I can hardly hear anything: It’s all muted through the headphones.”

  I pointed at the tape reel. “And why doesn’t somebody note the sound cues on the tape with a number? I don’t know if I’ve got gunshots or concert music queued up next. All I’ve got is a black line.”

  “You could try reading the script so that you know what comes next,” Lisa said. “Act Two opens with cannon fire.”

  “Stop your whining,” Rodney said. He flipped a hand toward Lisa. “I’ve also got to coordinate what I’m doing with fumble fingers next to me.” He grinned, looking puckish with his brilliant, glossy red hair—a beautiful color. I wondered if Gerald thought my red hair, a shade darker than Rodney’s, was pretty.

  “You could only dream of having hands as lovely as mine,” Lisa said in mock reproof, pursing her lips as if to blow a kiss.

  Give me a break!

  Lisa was right. When I started the reel at the next sound cue, I distinctly heard the booming of cannon fire resounding through the auditorium. Guess I might try reading the script, but I wanted to be surprised a little by events as they unfolded on the stage. After all, we’d have to watch the darned play several nights in a row.

  The second act passed without anything of note occurring. It was boring, watching the performers but not being able to hear anything they said. Ellis still hadn’t appeared on stage. He had to be in the third, and last act, which was about to start; apparently, his role was, indeed, a very small part.

  About twenty minutes into the third act, Rodney hissed, “Watch the play.”

  Jeanette barked out a light cue. Rodney and Lisa pulled a dozen levers downward. The stage grew dim. The scenery rotated as if on a giant microwave dish, the set changing from a backyard picnic to a parlor room. Two backdrops drifted down from the rafters and anchored themselves tenuously to either side of the altered set. Two actors also swung around into view: A spotlight beamed down upon them from both ends of the upper balcony.

  A tall, chestnut-haired actor with wildly disheveled hair, dressed in a natty, 1920’s style tweed suit, waved a gun about in the air. Ellis stood to his stage left, elegantly dressed in a black tux. His golden hair glowed in the concentrated spotlight. Their conversation was indistinct; however, Ellis held his hands up in front of him in a defensive posture then began backing away. Clearly, he was asking the deranged gunman not to shoot.

  Unexpectedly Ellis leapt forward and knocked the weapon out of the other actor’s hand. He scrambled after it, but the other pulled a butcher knife out of his breast pocket and stabbed Ellis in the back. Horrified, I gasped and jumped off my stool, banging it against one of the legs holding up the console.

  Ellis collapsed to the floor, the gun lying just beyond his outstretched right hand. The triumphant murderer kicked at his side then sauntered over and picked up the weapon. He tucked it beneath his suit coat and, after glancing about for potential witnesses to his crime, slipped out the glass patio doors stage left.

  “Kara, pay attention!” Jeanette barked. I hopped back onto my stool and flipped on the next sound loop. I couldn’t hear anything, despite the sound being set at about level seven, but something was playing because the reels were spinning.

  “See that guy on the ground?” Rodney asked Lisa and I. “He’s wearing heavy padding on his back beneath his suit.” He and Lisa pushed up a bank of switches with their wooden blocks. “The knife blade retracts, but the actor still gets pounded with the handle. What’s that guy’s name?”

  “Peter’s the killer,” Lisa muttered trying to focus.

  “It’s Ellis on the stage,” I hissed back, wondering at the same time why I felt irritable that Rodney wasn’t acknowledging Ellis by name. After all, Ellis was only a bit player and not one of the stars. There were a lot of students in the Drama department; it was likely they’d never met. Yet, it bothered me.

  “Peter’s a bit of a nut, one of those guys who gets too wrapped up in his character. I’ve overheard Douglas warn him to take it easy with the knife. He really whaled on, uh—Ellis—during practice last night.”

  I recalled the bruise on Ellis’ shoulder when were at the Hec Ed pool and felt sickened. Peter had hurt him during a prior rehearsal.

  I drew near to the window separating me from the auditorium. Of course Ellis lay motionless: He was playing the role of a corpse. But I wondered if Peter had gone berserk and hurt Ellis once again. The thought sickened me. Why had the grad students refused to play the role of the dead body? Did they fear injury by their out of control fellow actor and relinquish the bit part to an eager undergrad.

  “Sound off!” Jeanette commanded through the headset. I hurriedly toggled off the switch. I’d nearly forgotten I had a job to do.

  Moments later the stage exploded to life. Actors dashed in from all three sides of the stage, gesticulating wildly and pointing at the dead body. One man rolled Ellis on to his side and checked his pulse, while an actress in a beautiful blue gown and flowing blonde hair lifted clutched her hands in exaggerated horror.

  “Crew! Pay attention back there!”

  I snapped on the sound. The tape reel spun to life. This time I distinctly heard the booming of a thunderstorm resounding through the headsets. The overhead stage lights flickered on and off, as if the electricity in the parlor was struggling to stay on. Rodney and Lisa grinned triumphantly at one another.

  Minutes later Jeanette called for the house lights to be brought up. With a sigh, I slipped off the headphones and rewound the tape reel. It was going to be a much longer week than I’d imagined.

  Apparently it’s customary for the stage crew to gather together and listen to a critique of their performance after the rehearsal. When we gathered in the front two rows in the auditorium, the actors were gone and the backdrops were nestled in the fly loft for the next show.

  We had not measured up to expectations.

  Douglas and Jeanette stood downstage, taking turns rebuking us on the sloppy job we did: Not all props were in place quickly enough, the lights were late, and the sound was either too soft or too loud. The consensus between the two was that the stage crew needed to be more attenti
ve to their stage manager.

  During our fifteen minutes of excoriation, Gerald sat behind them on a parlor chair, peering up at the stage lamps and scratching at the stubble on his chin as if in deep thought. Perhaps he was wondering whether Lisa and I had set the lamps at the correct angles? Then, just as we were dismissed and I was about to leave, his gaze zeroed in on me and he smiled.

  I shyly smiled back, my face reddening once again. What was I, a tomato?

  But Lisa was far more clever.

  Sitting at the end of the first row to my left, she popped right out of her seat and bee-lined over to Gerald before I could get out into the aisle.

  “Are you walking toward the Suzzallo Library?” Lisa asked, pulling her black shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “I’m nervous about walking around by myself at night after the recent attacks on the campus.”

  “Sure, I’ll be happy to escort you,” Gerald said, hopping off the stage. “Give me a chance to shut down the theater first. It’ll be a couple of minutes.”

  Dejected, I pulled on my raincoat and slumped toward the outer aisle, intending to slip out unnoticed through the lobby door, once again a victim of my reticence. Apparently I could take lessons from Lisa on being more assertive. But I was surprised to hear Gerald call out, “Kara, you want to join us?”

  Surprised by the sudden attention, I spun around and blurted out, “I’m walking the other direction. But thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow night.” Lisa beamed at me with a little half-wave.

  Did Lisa know that I was interested in Gerald?

  I scurried down the mock gangplank from the Showboat Theater to shore, cursing myself for speaking without thinking first. I could have accompanied them to the library then deviated across Red Square toward Lander. It was a missed opportunity to spend more time with Gerald. I warmed inside, considering how he had included me, yet it also bothered me a little that he didn’t volunteer to walk us home. Well, neither had of the other guys in the stage crew. Maybe I was expecting too much.