Sharing Backstage

by Paige Parsons

  “Did it ever dawn on you that that was the reason why I wanted out of this house so desperately?”

  “Why are you here now? What’s going on?

  “I need to understand how you make it work with him. How can you go from one extreme to the other?”

  “This isn’t about Cliff. This isn’t even about your dad. This is about you. What happened with Lucas?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, honey. I wasn’t a fan of you moving in with him without being married, but I know you didn’t move out just to make me happy. So, why did you move out? Did Lucas have the nerve to tell the ever independent Harper Harrison what to do?”

  “Mami, mocking your daughter is not cool. Lucas has some fairly specific ideas about how relationships work, or how he expects them to work. It wasn’t for me, that’s all. I decided it was best to get out before things got too serious.”

  Marguerite sat back down. Maternal instinct being what it was, it didn’t matter if her daughter made her want to strangle her every other minute. When your baby needs comfort, you hug first and scold later.

  “Tell mami what happened.”

  “No. I don’t want to get into specifics about my relationship. That’s just weird. Don’t look at me like you’re going to get answers, anyway. You’re not, and you’re making it awkward. Mami!”

  Sitting still and watching her daughter’s out loud thought process was entertaining and a perfect way to wear her down without the hated probing questions. When the first tactic doesn’t work, one has to be willing to make a shift. Plus, not saying anything was a lot less volatile a technique.

  “Lucas and I were doing great as friends. We were friends who had sex, and it was—”

  “Stopping you. Fast forward. I’ll be able to infer the basics. You’re adults, but I’m your mother, and I do not want those details.”

  “Wasn’t I the one who said it would be awkward?”

  “Why did you move out?”

  “He’s a Cliff. I thought he was a Daddy, and he’s a Cliff.”

  “Harper, at some point I will have to leave the house. Fewer words than the sex details, but definitely more than that. What do you mean he’s a Cliff?”

  “All of our spontaneity went away when I moved in. The closer we got, the more overprotective he got. Everything had a rule, and nothing I did was ever right. We used to have fun. My antics—he called them shenanigans—made him laugh. Sure he would give me crazy looks and lecture me when he thought I was being reckless, but I could usually turn things around. You know—help him shift his focus, in the moment.”

  “And living together changed all of that.”

  “Well, yes.”

  Harper was the one who got up then. She silently walked the perimeter of the room. As she was checking things out, she took a good look at what must’ve always been there.

  “Mami, is Cliff okay with these pictures of us with Daddy being all around the house?”

  She felt the arms go around her and leaned into the embrace. It was nice, and she had missed it.

  “Yes, Cliff is perfectly okay with it. You are my children, and he was your father. We had a long and happy life long before I ever knew of Cliff’s existence. He had a life, too. Sure it wasn’t marriage and kids, but it was his. I don’t expect him to pretend it didn’t happen, and he doesn’t expect it of me. Now, this doesn’t mean I’m putting out wedding pictures, but you and Mira with your daddy at the father-daughter dance, no that’s not going in some trunk in the back of my closet. I wouldn’t do it and, contrary to what you might think, he would never ask.”

  “He asked you to sell the house. Obviously, he wasn’t that okay with your memories or your past.”

  There it was. That time Harper felt it a split second before the words were out, but she still said them. As her mom’s arms fell away from her, she immediately regretted not taking a moment to filter before she spoke.

  “I really wish I had been more open and upfront with you. I thought I was sparing you the details, and I was only setting things up to be harder for you in the end. Cliff didn’t demand to move. He didn’t even ask or suggest it. I did. When he proposed, we went around what options would work best. Moving into his house, especially since it would involve changing schools your senior year and taking you away from all of your friends, was absolutely out of the question. I was also against him moving in with us. We needed a fresh start to our lives together, and I knew that couldn’t happen if every time he touched something, it felt like he was walking in a ghost’s shoes. Moving was my idea, and for the last ten years, Cliff let you hate him, openly, to protect me. It was more important for you to feel like I was on your side and that I understood your pain.”

  Disbelief washed over her and flowed into every part of her body. Harper was remembering the past in depressingly slow motion. The fit she threw when they told her about the move. The way Cliff sat there stoically, while she ranted and used language that even her father wouldn’t have found acceptable. All of the snide comments she made when she happened to be home during one of the open houses, and the ass dragging she did throughout the entire moving process. It was her living out of boxes and refusing to unpack anything that caused the most fights, and even seeing her mother’s pain and hearing her and Cliff’s arguments didn’t dissuade her actions. The stubborn brat that she was, Harper didn’t hang things on the wall or put up her trophies, and dug through boxes for her clothes until Marguerite finally had had enough. While she was away on a weekend trip with her class, her mother and her sister put her room back together. Mira picked her up at her friend’s house and explained things. Her mother wanted it to be a surprise. She thought it would be nice. Mira had no illusions about her sister’s temper and knew she was likely to rip things from the wall just to prove a point. As it was, she didn’t do that, but the silent treatment that ensued was epic.

  “You should have told me,” was all Harper said. She had turned to look at her mother but wasn’t moved to go to her. Her arms were crossed, and it was becoming clear that neither woman knew where to take the conversation next.

  “Yes, I should have. It’s the one thing you and Cliff might actually agree on. I am so sorry. It only proves my point, Harper. We can only live in the moment. We do the best we can as things are happening. Maybe Lucas did some things wrong, but you might have to consider you did some wrong, too.”

  “How can you say that, and I haven’t even given you all of the details?”

  “Because it doesn’t matter if you’re five, fifteen, or twenty-five, I’m your mother, and I know you. If Lucas had any expectations of you taking direction, following rules, or letting him lead, then perhaps he didn’t know you as well as he thought.”

  “That wasn’t it.”

  “Maybe you didn’t know him?”

  “We talked. We talked a lot, but you know words and deeds can be different.”

  “I definitely understand that, but you know when we first started this talk you said it was because Lucas believed Cliff and I were truly happy and that he couldn’t be all bad if that were the case? Well, that is the case, Harper. I am happier than I ever imagined I would be again after your daddy died. I also thought if I were going to be happy, it would be with a carbon copy mate. You know, someone just like him. I was wrong. Sometimes we have to accept that we were wrong. Believe me, I pushed back with Cliff, plenty, but in the end, when someone is consistently there for you, they work at your happiness and well-being, how can you keep fighting that. I decided a sane person wouldn’t, and I stopped fighting and started receiving. It became a blessing. What happens in your relationship is your business and no one else’s. Don’t focus on what will others think, and instead focus on what you two think and do and how it makes you feel.”

  Harper was finally listening. She also wondered about the things her mother was obviously leaving out. What details were so private that she wouldn’t share, even to help her daughter? Maybe when she let her back into her good graces, she would
talk to Mira about it. They were close, and it could be that she knew more because she was older. Marguerite went back to her daughter and pulled her in for a hug. Standing in her mother’s arms was only uncomfortable for a split second, but soon her arms went around her back in reciprocity. Sometimes you needed pancakes, truth, and a hug from your mami.

  “You still want to go on this trip?”

  “Si. I have to. I signed a contract. It isn’t fair to put them in a bind because my personal life is a shit show.”

  “Harper!”

  “Lo siento. You really cleaned up your act. You and Daddy didn’t mind a cuss word here or there, in context, as long as it wasn’t directed at you. I think doing that was the one time he punished me. I cursed at you and made you cry. That was a hard line for him.”

  “Yes, it was. I told you your daddy took care of me in his own way. I was always less comfortable with your free expression than he was, but he didn’t want us raising old fashion kids stuck with no voice. Personally, I think you could’ve had both.”

  “I guess.”

  They walked back to the kitchen, and Harper helped with the kitchen chores. It was something she had not willingly done in years. She thanked her mother for their chat and told her that even though nothing was solved, she did feel better. Harper even agreed to return for a family dinner the night before she left.

  Driving home, she started to regret that agreement, but Mira wouldn’t let her out of it. Leaving her mother’s house put some things in perspective, but it didn’t make her any more ready to go back to Lucas. She never answered her mother’s last question. Did she still love him? If she did, then why was she running?

  Harper did replay that conversation during the whole week and again as she was packing. Did she still love him? Absolutely. He was her Lucas, and she missed him and his passion for theatre and for her. She hadn’t been with anyone else since they ended things—well, when she ended things. That was one of the things she couldn’t keep avoiding. She was the one who left. Her mother made it clear that problems required work and relationships required the hardest kind of work. She loved him, and she was running. The only thing that kept her packing was the fact that she knew she would be back. Maybe she needed time to do some more solo work before she was ready to be anyone’s partner again.

  Chapter 13

  Nothing Like the City

  Jeff was waiting at baggage claim when Harper got there. Seeing him made her even less confident in her choice to spend the next several weeks working on a show with him and staying at his place. Having him embrace her with such ardency, along with a kiss that was a few Mississippi’s too long to be platonic, had her head spinning with second thoughts. She’d played fast and loose with the details of the excursion, and his enthusiastic welcome left her with a most unsettled feeling and nerves the size of melons in the pit of her stomach. Out of the frying pan was all she kept thinking as she attempted to subtly wipe his kiss from her lips. Her ready response and quick yes to joining him had obviously given her best friend/sometime lover/one-time ex-boyfriend more hope than she intended. She described her luggage to him, and once he had it off the carousel, he took her hand and led them out. She might’ve been outraged, except for the hordes of people moving through one of New York’s busiest airports. If they got separated, Harper felt like it would take hours to find one another again, so she relaxed her hand in his hold.

  Most people in the theatre, especially actors, dreamed of making it in New York. Making it on the great white way was on the top of everyone’s to-do list. Harper, however, wasn’t so anxious to leave the luxuries of being a hometown girl at the top of the heap. Being a big fish in a small pond had its merits. The other problem with making it in New York was that you had to live in New York. As adventurous and bold as she could be at times, Harper had no desire to deal with crowds, subways, or foot traffic that could be as slow vehicle traffic. A bunch of friends had traveled to see one of Jeff’s first productions. They opted to stay in the city near the theatre, thinking it’d be nice to be able to walk over. It was an idea they came to regret as their ten-minute walk turned into twenty-five because of the hundreds of people on the street attempting to take photographs of or with the Lion King marquee. It was a fun place to visit, but she never saw herself living there.

  They made the drive to Jeff’s apartment in comfortable silence, save for a few bits of inconsequential chatter about weather, traffic, and theatre happenings. Harper had things on her mind, and Jeff stopped asking about what after her third rebuff on the topic. He explained that he lived outside the city proper to save money and to get more for what he was paying. Harper had to agree he made the right call when they pulled up to a gorgeous neighborhood whose streets were lined with red brick three story brownstones with ornate banisters going up to each set of front doors. If she hadn’t known better, Harper would’ve thought Jeff was doing even better than he’d told her.

  “I have the entire downstairs,” he informed her as they went through the front door and he saw her gawking at what looked like an endless stairway.

  “Oh, okay, that makes sense. I was starting to think you seriously underplayed your success. Plus, that suitcase isn’t light. I know. I packed it.”

  “This way, funny girl.”

  From the short entryway, there was a double set of doors that lead into a huge living room space. The enormous open floor plan allowed the kitchen to flow into the living space and both ran the length of the building. The double doors from the kitchen opened to the second half of the long hallway and to the right was the door to the bedroom. The backside of the staircase housed a walk-in closet, and beside it was a door to the tiniest office Harper had ever seen. She knew space in New York was at a premium, but things were oddly shaped from what she’d grown accustomed to in Arizona.

  “Well, that’s the nickel tour. Feel free to use the office anytime you want, but we can’t be in there at the same time. Honestly, I don’t think we’d fit. I left half of the closet for you, and the top drawer.”

  “Jeff, I don’t feel right taking your bed. You got me the job, which is getting me out of— I can sleep on the pullout sofa.” Harper stopped herself from saying more. She needed to get Lucas out of her head and bringing him up in Jeff’s bedroom, even off-handed, seemed in poor taste.

  “Whatever you want, Harper. You get unpacked, and I’ll make up the bed in the living room. Then I’ll take you out for some real New York City pizza and beer.”

  “Are we going over to the theatre today at all? I’d like to meet the team and find out where we are in the production.”

  “Harper, you’re my assistant on this project. I’ve taken care of all of the details, so the only thing you need to catch up on is doing what I ask, when I ask.”

  “Jeff, you know I don’t like working in the dark. You will catch me up over that beer, mister, got it?”

  “Got it. I see some things haven’t changed. You’ll be ready in thirty minutes?”

  “Probably, if you get out of here and let me get to it.”

  Jeff and Harper settled into work for the production, and things were going well for a while. The cast and director were friendly, for the most part, but like most shows, Harper was largely invisible until someone had a request. At first, it was nice not being on the hot seat all the time, but after three weeks, she was downright bored. Her ego wasn’t suffering any, but she felt like her skills were getting rusty before her eyes. Of course, that wasn’t true, but she wasn’t as good at not being in charge as she thought. She kept seeing things she would do differently or situations she would handle in a different way and had to keep reminding herself that it didn’t matter how she would do anything because it wasn’t her show or her team to run. She’d either gotten soft or spoiled at home. Her thick theatre skin had thinned out considerably.

  In her mind, a constant comparison was going on between how she was working with Jeff and how she and Lucas worked. The biggest difference was the fact that she and Luc
as didn’t do the same job, so she never felt like less than his equal. There, she kept being reminded that she was only the assistant and that all she needed to worry about was whatever duties Jeff assigned her backstage. When the director let her know, out loud and in front of everyone, that her notes during costume parade weren’t desired or needed, Harper learned quick, fast, and in a hurry that silence was golden in that position.

  Another stark comparison came during their first week of dress rehearsal. Hats hadn’t been required by the director during the early dress rehearsals, mostly because the design and vision kept changing. However, the two lead actresses were stressing out about needing as much time as possible to work with getting them off and on, dealing with hat pins, and other accessories, so Harper decided to get them what they needed. The costume shop was open, but there wasn’t anyone around, and all of the hat boxes were on a shelf that ran the perimeter of the room. Once she located them, she started figuring out how she was going to get them down. She found a step stool that didn’t extend her reach by much, so she put it on the chair and tried again. She’d only intended on bringing down one box at a time, but gravity had other ideas. When she touched one, she set a hat box avalanche in motion.

  “Hey, Harper, will you grab those hat boxes from the—whoa! Harper, are you all right?”

  Jeff had rushed into the room as his words were cut off by the crashing sound he heard. He found his able-bodied assistant surrounded by boxes, hats, a toppled folding chair and a step stool. She was clutching her head with one hand and her ankle with the other.

  “I’m fine! Stupid shelf. Stupid chair. You know the stuff for the current show should really be more accessible.”

  “Sorry, babe,” Jeff said. He helped her up and set the chair right so she could sit on it. “Looks like you were on the case before I was.”