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I rear back like I’ve been slapped. “You have to be kidding me, right? If I had?—”
“Ian? Jade?” Madison’s voice comes down the hall, whispered but sharp. “You guys need to get into place.”
I wait for Jade to argue, for her to insist we need more time to finish this conversation, but she pushes past me and follows Madison back down the hall.
I follow, silently fuming. If I were a cartoon character, fire would be shooting out from the top of my head. Jade knows as well as I do that if I’d told her I loved her to her face, it would not have gone well.
It didn’t go well anyway.
As we wait backstage, ignoring each other, letting the sounds of the play on the stage and then the clapping of the audience surround us, I squeeze my eyes shut and transform all my feelings into another shape, like Play-Doh. I shape my frustration into Ben’s frustration. I shape my shame into Ben’s shame. I have to channel what’s happening to me into Ben, or I’m not going to make it through this performance.
I take the stage on my cue, our argument still simmering between us, but channeling my feelings into Ben’s seems to work. Sitting in the dark on the stage, waiting for it all to begin, my heart hammers in my chest. The first sound cue goes, and someone in the audience coughs. My heart rate kicks up even more, and I remind myself that I’m not in a college theater; I’min an apartment in New York City in 2001. I fiddle with the flip-phone prop, telling myself I’m supposed to call my wife and tell her I’m not dead. And by the time I’ve convinced myself that I am Ben, Jade has walked in and said her first line.
I give everything to Ben and Abby, knowing this is the last chance I’ll get to share the stage with Jade. Everything else fades into the background as we volley our lines back and forth, exactly like we did in rehearsal. If the audience reacts in any way or makes any noise, I don’t hear them. I’m zeroed in on Jade as Abby; on the reality of my own character.
I’m both in the moment and in every rehearsal that led us to this moment. Every movement and touch and line feels both totally natural and like the moves of a dance given to us by a choreographer. Jade seems in the zone too. Neither of us forget a single line. Neither of us miss a beat of blocking.
And when it comes time for me and Jade to kiss, for my character to convince her character that I really do love her, I kiss her so thoroughly that afterward, the way she looks at me is all Jade, no Abby. But the look in her eyes is sad, and I almost forget my next line for fear of what that sadness means.
It is unequivocally our best run of the show, all the emotion of our argument downloaded into these characters. Call it the repetition of rehearsal, or finally understanding acting, or just relating to my character emotionally in a way that I haven’t been able to before, but it was much easier to access my character tonight than it ever has been before.
There’s a sense of power and pride that comes with the performance—something that didn’t happen in rehearsal. I don’t know if it’s the audience or just the magic of performing. There’s some unnamable force when you take the stage in someone else’s shoes, knowing all your hard work is being appreciated by friends, family, and strangers. It’s the alchemy of art, conjured by creatives and those with an appreciation for creative work.I’ve felt this in some small way when designing lights for shows, but there’s something different about being on the stage.
By the end of the performance, still riding the high of the past half-hour, I’ve practically forgotten my name. After our final bow, Jade and I exit the stage, and I gather her up in a hug, everything that happened before the show forgotten.
But the way she hugs me back is quick, and when she releases me and rushes out of the room, it’s a fast reminder of where we actually stand. The two of us ignore each other for the remaining one-acts, packing our things up in the dressing room without a word to each other, acknowledging the praise from our peers about the show.
When it’s all over, everyone meets in the lobby, mingling with the people who came to see the one-acts, mostly family and friends of the performers and other acting students.
I know I should feel relieved that it’s done. I got my credit, and now I can graduate, and I never have to perform again if I don’t want to. But I don’t know what this means for me and Jade, and based on our earlier conversation, I don’t have a lot of hope.
“Hey, man, congrats,” Seth says, coming up behind me and pulling me into a hug. “Had no idea you had it in you.”
“Ever the supportive friend,” I say and roll my eyes at Seth. He’s brought Alexis, and she leans in to hug me too.
“Seriously, great job, Ian. I’m not really into the acting thing, but I thought you were great,” Alexis says.
Seth beams at her as she compliments me. He’s got it so bad.
I thank them both and try to keep an eye on Jade in the crowd. She’s with Jessie and Mac, chatting. Jessie has her arms around Jade, and her smile is huge. I catch Mac’s eye, and he waves me over. Excusing myself from Seth and Alexis, with a promise to text, I join Mac, Jessie, and Jade.
“Ian!” Jessie says and throws her arms up in the air. She grabs me for a hug, and then Mac hugs me too. Their warm welcome is surprising and probably gives me more hope than they mean for it to.
“Congrats,” Jessie says at the same time Mac says, “Man, you did great.”
“I thought the two of you had such great chemistry,” Jessie says. “I don’t know what your director was on about.”
Jade gives a tight smile but intentionally directs her eyes to the floor.
“Daaahhhhhlings!” Anastasia croons, approaching us with open arms, apparently not that torn up by my rejection earlier. She pulls me and Jade in for a weird three-way hug and then holds us at arm’s length, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’m so proud of both of you. Your chemistry was truly amazing, and all your hard work was on display tonight. You stole the entire showcase. I do hope you’ll celebrate tonight.”
Someone calls her name, and with a final weird hug, Anastasia disappears into the crowd.
“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” Jade says, and I try not to take it personally, but the stabbing feeling in my chest is hard to ignore. “Anyway, I’m pretty beat. I think I’m going to head back,” she says to Jessie.
They hug, and without so much as a glance at me, Jade leaves, walking through the double doors. I look to Jessie, lost and confused, my brow furrowed.
“Go,” Jessie encourages me. That’s all it takes, and then I’m outside looking for Jade.
