Tears Reflected

When the time came for us to change costumes, we walked upstairs together. At the doors of our dressing rooms, Jill turned to me.

"Help me with my zipper?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you want to?" Her smile never dimmed when she said that. My heart pounded and I could feel myself starting to sweat.

I changed quickly and I entered her dressing room. She was just starting to pull up the top of the dress, facing the door. The modest thing to do would have been to do that with her back to the door. Could she have done it that way for my benefit? Jill looked me in the eyes, smiling as she watched me looking at her body.

She let me have a good look before turning around so I could work the zipper. As I pulled the zipper up, gently and carefully, she whispered, "This is better than taking a chance of getting it stuck again."

"Oh, yes," I whispered back. "Much better."

Jill surprised me. She turned around and gave me a quick kiss. I knew it couldn't be much of a kiss without risking smearing our stage makeup. The touch of her lips on mine made my heart pound and my toes tingle. I was still trying to catch my breath when she took my hand and whispered, "Was it hard?"

The double meaning her words implied shocked me. Again, I didn't have time to recover when she started pulling on my hand.

"It's almost time for our cues," she said in explanation as she led me to the stairs. The soft warm touch of her hand served to reinforce my memory of the touch of her lips.

Night after night, the ritual was repeated. I looked forward to the kisses, but hoped for more. We had a few chances to get together after the performances, and even spent one magical night together. I finally got to hold her and love her like I had been doing in my fantasies, in my dreams. In the morning, we went our separate ways to our regular jobs. The next night was our closing performance.

When Jill got to the theater that night, she found a bouquet of roses waiting for her. I had picked them up from the florist and slipped into the theater earlier to leave them backstage for her. The card read simply, "To my favorite actress." Jill found me in a quiet corner backstage and thanked me for the flowers.

"How did you know they were from me?" I asked her. Even if she was still uncertain, I'm sure the smile I couldn't conceal confirmed her suspicions. She just smirked.

There was a rumor going around backstage that a talent scout was in the audience. This wasn't something new. I'd heard it before, during other plays. Jill, however, seemed excited. Her performance that night was beyond stellar. She was beyond giving it her all. When I watched her tears reflected in the glass that night, I could clearly see the intensity was more than her usual effort. I had to wipe tears from my own eyes before I went onstage.

Ordinarily, I might have been in awe by her performance. That night, I didn't let myself falter. Just in case the rumor was true, I knew I had to do my best so Jill would lookherbest. I knew how badly she wanted a break. If I could do anything to better her chances, I'd do it. I'd do anything to give Jill what she really wanted.

After our final curtain call, we invited the audience up onto the stage to celebrate with us. The male lead opened the first bottle of champagne, as tradition dictated in the little theater. The stage manager was busily handing out those plastic champagne glasses to all of us. Once all our glasses were filled, the cast and crew were led by the director in a toast to the successful completion of our run. Glasses of champagne were being distributed to the members of the audience who had stayed to share in the celebration.

I turned to look for Jill. She was speaking to a man in a dark suit. I remembered seeing him sitting somewhere in the first few rows during the show. I figured that he was someone who knew Jill because they were deeply engaged in conversation. Whatever he was saying to Jill had her very interested. I didn't want to interrupt so I instead greeted the members of the audience and my fellow members of the cast and crew.

It was always a happy time – happy and sad. We were glad to be finished with the play. At the same time, the joy was bittersweet. In the weeks of rehearsal and performing, we had become very close. We were a family, united in the production. Our family would be dissolved later that night, as the cast party came to an end. We would probably all never be together like this again. We had come to the end of our special time.

Someone was going around with a stack of posters from the play and asking everyone to sign them. I took my turn with one of the permanent markers and wrote something profound, repeating it on each. I was told that we would each receive a signed poster later at the party.

I looked one last time for Jill but I didn't see her. I asked around, noticing for the first time that people had begun filtering up to the dressing rooms to change into their street clothes.

"I think I saw her going to change," someone told me.

I walked backstage and climbed the darkly lit stairs to where our dressing rooms were situated. I met Jill on the stairs, rushing down, dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. Her face was brightly lit by a smile. She was very happy about something. When her eyes met mine, her smile was infectious. I couldn't help joining in, and not just because I was so happy to see her.

With the play over, I had hopes that we would have more time for each other. I knew she would probably try out for the next play, but tryouts were a few months away. I saw a good possibility for happy times ahead for the two of us.

Jill was so excited that she could barely contain herself.

"Richard! I got the most amazing news tonight!"

I positively grinned at the sound of excitement in her voice. I waited to hear the news, but I was to be disappointed as she continued, breathlessly.

"I have to go get more details. I'll tell you all about it at the party. See you there."

And, she was gone. I listened to her tennis shoes on the last few steps at the bottom. I knew something had made her very happy and I hoped to help her celebrate later that night. I just didn't know what had happened. Well, that could wait. I climbed the rest of the stairs and entered the dressing room. I was one of the last ones to change. Calls of, "See you at the cast party," were heard as one by one the others finished changing and left.

Before long, I was the last one there. As I finished hung up my costume for the last time and dressed in my street clothes, I thought about those nights when Jill and I changed together. I smiled as I remembered the night her zipper had gotten stuck. It was a lucky break for me, for both of us.

The lights were starting to go out in the theater as I left. Jill was long gone but I knew I'd see her soon. I hoped we'd be leaving the party together.

The party was being held at the director's home, a nice house downtown. It was about a ten minute drive from the theater. I had to park a block away because I was among the last to arrive. I looked for Jill's car as I walked to the door but I didn't see it. Approaching the door, I could hear the sounds of the party drifting towards me. Music and laughter, sprinkled with tidbits of conversation. It was a happy time. The tears would come later when people started leaving. These parties often went on late into the night. Everybody was always reluctant to leave, to leave the family.

I opened the door, not bothering to knock. It was like jumping into a pool. There was a transition, like entering the water. You just had to jump in, breaking into the bubble of hospitality. Once the barrier was breached, it was warm and happy and comfortable inside. I was quickly talking and drinking and eating along with everyone else. With one exception.

"Where's Jill?" I asked. At first, no one knew.

Then, the producer had a partial answer to my question. Her face lit up as she told me, "Jill had to meet with someone on the way here. I suspect she will have big news to tell when she gets here. She's coming, don't worry." Then, in a stage whisper directed to me, "And I think she might need your help celebrating… later."

It was no secret by then that Jill and I had something going on. A wave of excitement passed through me as I thought what "celebrating… later" could mean.

Jill still hadn't arrived when it was time for the more formal slice of the party. The director spoke first, thanking us for our hard work and congratulating us on such a fine performance. The producer added her compliments. Next, Ellen, the stage director, took center stage as she gave her traditional speech about how we were so unruly backstage. She told of how difficult it had been keeping us quiet. The stern talk was accompanied by her usual trace of a smile at the corners of her mouth. By the end, she was grinning along with the rest of us. It was an old joke. Ellen was like a mother hen keeping her brood under control. Our antics backstage were always a much better show than what was taking place on stage. One of her many jobs was keeping things under control so the audience heard the play and not our shenanigans.

Next, there were a few gifts to hand out. Most were gag gifts related to mistakes that had taken place during the various performances. One member of the cast had to grow a mustache for his part. His wife apparently didn't care for it because her gift to him was a can of shaving cream and a razor. Another gift was one of those satin sleeping masks, intended for another male member of the cast. In his haste one night, he had mistakenly wandered into the women's dressing room. Ellen explained that he should carry the mask around with him during future performances so he could put it on in case he ever ended up in the women's dressing room again. The director handed out the signed posters, a keepsake I knew I would treasure. I planned to frame mine. I had acted before, but this play would always hold a special place in my heart. Because of Jill.

Jill. Still she hadn't arrived. After the gifts, the party broke up again into little groups which I wandered through. We relived the show, and past shows, as we swapped stories. We laughed at our mistakes and at memorable members of the audience. When the audience came up, someone asked about that rumor we had heard. Had there really been a talent scout in the audience? The question was laughed off because someone always started a rumor like that, probably to inspire all of us to put out our best effort. This time, the producer announced that there had, indeed, been a "special guest" in the audience.

I was in the study, talking with a few fellow actors. As they drifted out to get more food, I was admiring the posters on the wall, souvenirs of past performances. I was looking at one in particular, at Jill's signature on it, when I heard a voice just outside the door say, "I think he's in there."

A sound caught my ear. It was quieter in the room than in the rest of the house at that point because I was the only person there at that moment – or so I thought. I could just hear footsteps behind me.

"Richard?" It was Jill's voice. Not Jill's voice laced to overflowing with excitement like I had heard it on the stairs in the theater earlier. There was sadness in it as well. I turned.

Jill was still dressed as I had last seen her. She had a look about her; I guess it wasdetermination. Something was different, like she had reached a turning point, a junction in her life. She took a deep breath as I turned to face her.

I stretched out my arms, my palms upraised, as I asked, "So what's the big news?" I smiled in anticipation, anxious now to find out what was going on. I wanted to share in her joy.

When I said that, Jill's face lit up for an instant. Only for an instant, as if she had suddenly remembered something wonderful. Then the concern reappeared. I'm not sure if it was concern, or something darker.Somethingwas definitely weighing heavily on her that evening.

"Richard, I have wonderful news." Then she sighed and her expression fell further as she continued. "Awful news."

"What?" I asked, incredulous. "Which is it?"

"Both. Neither. I don't really know. Oh, Richard!" she cried out as she ran to me and embraced me. I held her as her breath caught. I was stunned by her words. She looked up to me, her face now a mask of determination again. I'm sure I was wearing a quizzical expression.

Jill took a deep breath, then another and still another before beginning her explanation. I enjoyed the feeling of her body pressed against mine as I waited. "Remember that rumor tonight?" I nodded, so anxious to hear her explanation that I didn't want to interrupt her by speaking. "Well, it was true. He talked to me onstage after the play." I nodded, remembering the man in the dark suit. My heart pounded in excitement as I waited for Jill to continue. I was sure I knew what she was going to say but I waited to hear it from her lips. "He had heard of me, of my work. He came tonight to seeme." The happy excitement was back in her voice. "He offered me a part in a professional production."

She slipped away from me at that point. Her expression had changed from the elation earlier to great sadness. She turned away from me, facing the window. When she spoke, I could hear grief in her voice now. Something was tearing her up, and I knew she wasn't acting this time. She kept facing the window as she spoke quietly.

"You asked me once what I thought about when I made myself cry on stage. I'm ready to tell you now."

It was dark outside so I could clearly see the reflection of her face in the glass. It pained me to see how sad she was.

"I was in love… a few years ago. He was wonderful," she said, and I could hear a joy in her voice even if her expression didn't show it. "We were together and happy. Then, I got a part in a play. The theater took a lot of time. Our relationship suffered." Here the sadness returned to her voice. "I finally had to choose – my love for him, or… my love for the theater." I heard her swallow hard. I could also see the movement of her throat in her reflection. "I'll never forget the look on his face, or the pain in my heart, when I left him. I promised I'd never do that again to someone I loved."

Jill was quiet for maybe a minute, reflecting. Then, in a stronger voice, "He offered me a big part. It's what I've always wanted to do. Only …"

Focusing on the window pane, I could see her tears reflected as they traced down her lovely face.

"The play opens in two weeks. In New York. I have to –" I clearly heard the tears in her voice now. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I have to leave tonight. It's all so sudden but I have to do it. I called my boss at home and told him I'm leaving. He wasn't happy, but he understood that this was my big break – what I always wanted. I have to fly to New Yorktonight. I start rehearsal in the morning." She took another deep breath, then spoke very softly. "I had to choose again." The tears were flowing freely now. "I'm sorry, Richard." She turned and brushed my cheek with a kiss as she walked past me and out of the room. It took all the strength I had in me not to try to stop her. I wanted her, and I knew now that she loved me as well, but I also knew she loved something else. I loved her enough to let her go.

I took two faltering steps towards the window in hopes of catching a last fleeting glimpse of her car as she drove away. I wondered if she would be thinking of me the next time she needed to cry onstage.

It was raining now, the heavy drops pelting loudly against the window. Reaching the window, I focused first on the glass, and saw my own tears reflected.

The End

This story is Copyright © 2005 by Strickland83. All rights reserved.