Sharing Backstage

by Paige Parsons

  “Please stay. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

  “Yeah, I do. I love you, Harper.”

  “I know. Te quiero mucho.”

  He closed the door on her soft sobs and went into the kitchen to see what he had to drink strong enough to knock him out.

  Chapter 11

  Closing Weekend

  There was always a buzz; a current of elation at a job well done that went along with closing a show and strike. Leaving the space as a blank slate for the next team instilled a sense of successful completion. Harper loved strike in a different yet equally enthusiastic manner than she loved opening nights.

  The actors were clearing out, and the crew was doing everything they could before Lucas showed up to supervise the teardown of the set. The place was buzzing as much as it did on the first day of tech, when everything got put together. Wesley was running around changing out speakers and cables, so things were at neutral before the next show loaded-in. The wardrobe mistress was sorting costumes, and Maddy was shooing folks out of dressing rooms like a drill sergeant so that she could clean. On Tuesday, the place needed to look like their show had never existed. Wesley had music pumping through all of the monitors, and the mood was pretty high. Everyone was signing programs and professing that this had been the best show and cast ever. Of course, there was no way that could have been true, since Harper had worked with many of them before and heard the same proclamations each time. It was cool, though. She could stand to hear sentiments of love, after the past few weeks.

  It had been three weeks since things ended with Lucas, and he was a man of his word. He gave her all the space she claimed to need and want. All of their communication was official and through performance reports or text that coordinated her move. When he worked during the day, she took care of the dog and took things back to her condo a bit at a time. While she was at rehearsal for her next show, thankfully at a different theatre, Lucas would come home, take care of the dog, run him, and swap out his bag to head back to Nate’s. It was all very civil and adult, and she wanted to scream, maybe throw some things, or slap his ever understanding face. She was desperate for a reaction that was anything other than polite or professional. The desire to have a full on temper tantrum stayed on the surface of her emotions, but she knew she would be the only one mortified by that display in the end. No one knew what was going on, and that sort of outburst would make her look like a crazy woman.

  “Okay, guys, grab those drills on the back wall” Lucas said. “I left them charging, and they should hold us for a bit. The stage should be clear, so start with the pieces downstage. I’m just going to drop these things off in my office.”

  Harper pulled the door open as his hand reached for the knob. “I was just clearing out the last of my junk. They're almost done; if you want to get the checks out of the safe, I’ll start paying the crew. Actor and designer payments got mailed, right?”

  “Yeah, I took care of it on Wednesday. Here,” he said. “Yours came to the house. It was easier not to change it.”

  “The ladies would have definitely had questions. It won’t be a problem anytime soon, so you can leave it. I’ll put in a change of address at the post office. I passed the musical off to Maddy. I only told Riley that I was taking a mini tour and going back east for a bit to help a friend.”

  Lucas looked puzzled at first, and then he gave her a look, head tilted to the side, and eyes piercing, conveying disappointment. He had no plans on helping her pull off some concealing lie to their boss and friend. He’d agreed not to volunteer any information, but outright lying wasn’t happening.

  “It’s not a lie, Lucas. Stop looking at me like that. I’ll be assisting again, but it’ll be an excellent networking opportunity. Plus, the check isn’t bad. I could stand a break from being in charge.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to remind her that was exactly what he’d tried to do, but he wasn’t going to put them back on that train to nowhere. Instead, he offered up a simple response of, “Sounds good, Harper. I’ll get those checks.”

  If Maddy hadn’t come around the corner, Harper didn’t know what the hell would have happened next. Lucas was short and distant, and she hated it. She had come to accept it as something she brought on herself; according to Mira, it was also something she deserved. Nobody needed that much truth in her life, and Harper couldn’t wait to get on a plane to New York. A change of scenery was absolutely needed. She wasn’t sleeping much, anyway, so with that and the time difference, she saw herself being quite productive. Maybe she would wow this New York team, and they would invite her to stay on for another gig.

  “Here are the checks. I need to check on the guys. Good seeing you, Maddy.”

  “You too, Lucas.” The second he was out of ear and eyeshot she turned on Harper. “What the hell was that about? Y’all are being weird. Well, at least he is. Isn’t he?”

  “No more than usual. Let’s go make some kids happy.”

  Someone should be, was her real thought.

  Chapter 12

  Preparing to Leave

  Harper was running, and she knew it. More importantly, it seemed that those closest to her knew it, too. It didn’t matter anymore, though, because the contract was signed, and she was headed back east to help a former classmate with a show. Six weeks of breathing different air from Lucas and a mere three-thousand-mile difference had sounded like perfection to her, when the offer first came up, but things were different the night before boarding her flight. There’s an extraordinary level of regret one carries, when one figures out some things about herself but isn’t ready to face them head-on, but there was no sitting around and thinking or talking things over anymore. Besides, there wasn’t anyone left she trusted to have a truly honest conversation with anymore. She’d given both her mother and sister a shot, and they both had failed miserably. Neither of them told her what she wanted to hear.

  Adjusting to sleeping alone again, without even the dog sneaking onto the bed, was harder to do than expected. Most nights, she slept on the couch to avoid the empty space beside her. Busy days occupied her mind, but coming home meant facing long nights with limited ways to fill them. She hung out with a few girlfriends a couple of times, but her heart wasn’t in it, and she usually ended up leaving early. There were plenty of times when she wanted to call Lucas and ask for a do-over, but she knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t do it until she could actually accept a relationship the way he desired. So that never happened. Her real reason for keeping a low profile was because she was downright cranky and pretty miserable to be around. That had been a direct quote from her sister, Mira. Outside of working on the small show she was doing and getting ready to leave town, she didn’t know what to expect from her own emotions from day to day. Her regular life had shifted too quickly.

  The week before her trip, when tossing and turning had finally driven her out of bed, Harper decided to talk to her mom. She’d already talked to her sister, repeatedly, without much success. A conversation with her mother would either go well and help, or provoke an argument and give her a new place to direct all of her anger.

  It was early, and she didn’t know what the reception would be, but Lucas’s words played over and over in her head. Her mom and Cliff did seem happy, all the damn time. Harper wanted her mother happy, of course; she just wasn’t thrilled it was with him. Her parents had seemed equally happy, and their relationship was so different. She had no idea what was true and couldn’t wrap her brain around how they both could be, in some way. She and her mom didn’t talk. Heartfelt exchanges had a way of turning into volatile arguments, with indictments flying back and forth, and someone leaving. Those exchanges were followed by long bouts of silence, where the only communication that could happen was through her sister, Mira.

  Two cups of coffee in and a firm acceptance that she was done with sleep for the day found Harper with her phone in hand, dialing her mom’s cell number. Cliff should be gone to work, but on the off chance he was home, Ha
rper dialed the cell, knowing that even hearing his voice would set her teeth on edge.

  “Hola, mami.”

  “Harper. It’s so good to hear from you, sweetheart. How are things?”

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  “Harper, it's six-thirty in the morning. What are you doing up so early?”

  “You were on my mind, and I thought I’d give you a call.” Harper put the phone on speaker and started straightening up her living room. She had stuff everywhere.

  “What’s going on? You don’t usually have anything on your mind at this hour; except ways to get more sleep.”

  “Mami, no interrogations, please.”

  “Okay. I’m doing chores, so speak up when you hear the water running.”

  “Chores?”

  There was contempt and disgust dripping from the word. The fact that she was, in essence, doing the same exact thing was lost on Harper. In her mind, she was doing it because she felt like it, and her mother was doing it because Cliff expected her to.

  “Yes, Harper, chores. Cliff left for work, and I have things I need to do before I head out to run some errands.”

  “Where are you going?” Placing the dishes in the sink, Harper looked at them and made the easy decision to put off washing them until later. Much later.

  “Harper, dime lo que está mal. If you don’t want this to be an interrogation, then you need to help make it a conversation.”

  “How could you love a man like Cliff and say you ever really loved daddy?”

  Of all the things Marguerite expected her daughter to say, that wasn’t it. She couldn’t begin to think about how she should answer. There were things long overdue to be said between the two of them, but that day certainly hadn’t been on her radar for it to happen. That wasn’t an over-the-phone conversation.

  “Mami. Are you there?”

  “Sí, mi amor.”

  “I guess you think that question is inappropriate. I’m sorry. I’m really not trying to start an argument or be disrespectful. Some things came up and I— I’m trying to understand some things about myself, and I thought that maybe knowing the answer could help.”

  There wasn’t any water running, and Harper wasn’t sure what to make of the silence. Maybe her mom’s objection to engaging in the discussion was what was deserved after years of surly, sullen behavior around the subject.

  “Why don’t you come on over? I think this is an in-person conversation.”

  Marguerite was going to have to run her errands late or on another day. She didn’t want the opportunity to slip through her fingers. Harper’s emotional walls had been up high since her father’s death, not wanting to discuss the past any more than she wanted to deal with the present.

  “You said you had chores and errands. I’m not trying to cause trouble with you and Cliff.”

  “There isn’t any trouble being caused when my daughter needs me. Come over. I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “I could be convinced with pancakes,” Harper said charmingly.

  She ran up the stairs to get dressed. She was in her car in fifteen minutes. Her mom had hung up as she was pulling out of the garage.

  The distraction of the conversation would do the obvious, take her mind off of Lucas and her pending temporary relocation, but it might also resolve some long-festering issues. Part of her hurrying was the thought that her mom might change her mind and would censor her answers before she got to the part she really needed. Things would either go well, or maybe, just maybe, move them forward, or her leaving town would be to avoid two relationships instead of one.

  The twenty-minute drive went by even faster than usual. Harper didn’t want to think it was because of her lead foot (a distracted mind made for a better story during a traffic stop). It was rare for her to drive during low traffic times and when she did, blasting the music and laying on the gas pedal were impulse behaviors. Lucas hated music blasting in the car. Getting out and using her house keys, Harper scolded herself for even thinking about his likes and dislikes. They were no longer her problem.

  “Mami, soy yo.”

  “Fix yourself a plate. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  No problem there. Her mom made amazing pancakes. Harper was sitting at the counter when Marguerite came down.

  “Did you leave me coffee?” she asked her daughter, then added, “When’s the last time you ate a decent meal?”

  “No, no. Don’t ruin this with nagging, please.” Harper gave her mother a pleading look.

  “I’m your mother. If you take away nagging and questioning, there isn’t much left for me to do. I’m done doing your laundry and cleaning your room, and you don’t visit enough for me to cook for you much.”

  “You know why, but we could go out more.”

  “When? Aren’t you leaving in a week?”

  “I am coming back, mami.”

  Sitting in the family room, Harper felt a little like a stranger. The start of the conversation was like visiting a new friend, with lots of nonsensical chit-chat about weather and decorative items, and awkward pauses where multiple sips of tepid coffee were taken. Harper noticed all of the recent pictures of Mira and her family, with and without their mom and Cliff. Most of the pictures of Harper were much older. Sure, her schedule meant she missed most family functions outside of major holidays. They did what they could to schedule around her many conflicts, but it wasn’t always possible.

  “When did you guys take that picture?”

  Marguerite knew her daughter was sensitive, regardless of her often abrasive behavior. She took more care with her than she was given credit for doing.

  “It was over Memorial weekend. One of Cliff’s buddies took it on his phone, and it came out so well, he sent it to him. I only had it blown up because I had this frame in the closest. I think you were with Lucas’ family.”

  She hadn’t been. They were rarely at home with the dog and probably took a dark Monday to indulge in some couch and cuddle time.

  “It’s nice.”

  “It is. So, you wanna ask me that question again or should I dive right into the answer.” That was forward. “Mi niña. Your daddy was my first love and my best friend. He gave me two of my greatest gifts, you and Mira, and believe me, when we said our vows, we meant for them to be forever. We were babies, and the only thing we knew for sure was that we wanted to be together.”

  “So, if the accident hadn’t happened, you’d still be together? There weren’t any problems?” Skepticism she wished she could suppress laced Harper’s tone.

  “When you fall in love with someone, and you’re both so young, you grow up together. You work out the kinks of growing up together. You also learn to live with the things that don’t seem like they’re going to change. No one is perfect. Not me, and I know it’s hard to believe, but your daddy wasn’t, either. So, of course, we had our problems. Every marriage does. Every relationship does.”

  Everything Marguerite was saying made sense, but Harper held a space far too special and sacred in her heart for her father to receive the information without hesitation or feeling like any acceptance betrayed him.

  “Harper, I know it felt like Cliff came out of nowhere and that we got married so quickly that I was being disloyal to Daddy, but let’s be honest. No amount of time would have been long enough for you.”

  “Mami, it’s not that I didn’t want you happy.”

  “I know. You just wanted me to be happy in another way. Memories don’t keep you warm at night. They don’t dry your tears. They can’t support or encourage you. You need a flesh and blood partner for that. No, I didn’t know it could be different and certainly didn’t know it would be, but I don’t regret meeting my new blessing head on. My only regret is that it ever hurt you.”

  “I was a little shit. Sorry. A little brat. I just didn’t want a new dad, even if you wanted a new husband.”

  “He was never trying to be your dad. He was making every effort to be someone else in your life that loved you and w
anted to take care of you. You wouldn’t let him in at all, and you worked overtime to shut me out.”

  “How could I let him in without betraying Daddy’s memory and everything he stood for? Freedom. Creative expression. Free will, mami. I’ve never met anyone so against free will like Cliff, not until—”

  “Not until? I knew I was only getting half-truths this morning, and I still made you pancakes. Come clean, niña. In all these years, you have never expressed an interest in how my relationship with Cliff came to pass. Why now? Even when I volunteered information, you slammed the door on it.”

  “I hated that he came into our lives, and he wanted to change so many things. Let him know where I was going. Bring your gentleman friend inside to meet us.”

  The irked look on her mother’s face meant her impression of Cliff wasn’t the comedy gold Harper thought.

  “You and Dad allowed me to study abroad at sixteen, and Cliff wouldn’t let me have wine when I was twenty. It was suffocating and oppressive, and you never defended me.”

  “He didn’t allow you to drink in the house because the law said you couldn’t drink anywhere. It might’ve also had something to do with the scenes you made both times you came home drunk from school. You were out of control.”

  Marguerite got up and unnecessarily refolded the throw blanket at the end of the couch. The conversation was beginning to take on a familiar tone. Harper would take shots at Cliff, and she would remind her daughter of all of her reckless misdeeds. There would be shouting, and again, the door would be slammed.

  “No. Harper, I’m not going to let it play out the same old way this time. You were out of control. Period. Cliff is the head of this family now. He became that the moment we took vows, and whether or not you liked it, he had every right to set the rules in this house.”