Much Ado About Nothing

“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”

Adrian’s voice came bellowing from the back of the theater and Violet felt her stomach jolt and her heart skip a beat. She knew she was wrong for this part. And not an actress. What had possessed her to even audition?! Her friend Freida had convinced her to sign up for the local community theater auditions and after two nerve-racking callbacks, Violet had won the part of Viola in “Twelfth Night”. Her competition had been a diffident young woman in glasses named Esther. Violet was certain it was only because her name was so close to that of the character that she got the part. Admittedly, her fierce competition with Esther notwithstanding , the pickings were slim here in Cutaloosa, PA. What had followed were two whirlwind weeks of rehearsals in which Violet had miraculously learned all her lines and “blocking” under the exacting and often exasperated ministrations of their director Adrian Fitz Wallace— the man currently bellowing from the back of the house and barreling towards the stage in a fury.

Violet could feel the sweat prickling on her neck and her heart racing. They were now in dress rehearsals aiming for opening night in two days. She was sure that as soon Adrian reached the stage she would be fired, exposed to all her newfound friends as little more than a country hack who had no business “trotting the boards” as Adrian called it, much less starring as Viola in Twelfth NIght. The jig was up. Her lack of talent had been finally and fatally acknowledged.

 The last two weeks had been fun. Violet had found herself increasingly looking forward to spending evenings with this rag tag troupe of local thespians in the basement of the local church. Her days were spent dishing out soft serve and burgers to tourists and summer folk, one of the few jobs available to teenagers trying to save money for college. The job required little intellectual engagement and allowed her to practice her lines with her fellow server Wendy, who, the more Violet thought about it really SHOULD have been cast in the play. They tossed dialogue and poetry back and forth over the burger grill:

“How does he love me?”

“With Adorations, fertile tears, with groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire”

Wendy would have made an excellent Olivia. The woman who had been cast was a Cutalossa Community Theater regular named Sheri, who despite a wealth of experience was closing in on 70 and maybe just a little too old for the role.

With every passing day, Shakespeare's language had felt less and less strange in Violet's mouth. The playfulness with which she could practice with Wendy, had opened her up to an increasing ease in the playing of the role. She had even developed a slight crush on the boy playing Orsino, who had the distinction of not only having taken acting classes in New York City but had two Burger King commercials under his belt and thus was deemed to be a true "professional" amongst the cast of devoted amateurs.

She had grown fond of these self-proclaimed amateurs; Ben Fossman who moonlighted from his welding business in Lambertville to play Malvolio, Catherine Hickman , a waitress at the Sunshine Diner was a wickedly hilarious Maria, and even sweet, shy Timothy Anderson the organist at the church whose basement served as their rehearsal studio made a decent Sebastian. Sometimes after rehearsal they would go out to the local watering hole and Violet, sipping on a diet coke, would listen to her cast mates tell stories about their real adult lives interspersed with tales of their previous theatrical experiences which inevitably had her snorting diet coke through her nose because they were so funny.

Yet despite all that, with Adrian heading straight down the center aisle, the veins in his temple bulging and purple, she knew it was all for naught. She was a lost cause. Her time with this merry band of players was over before it had really started. 

Adrian reached the stage and with a spryness that belied his 40 plus years leapt up onto the apron shouting “I need to SEE them dammit! Why are there no lights stage left??!!”

The beleaguered lighting designer, Andy, from the Ace Hardware store in Stockton, frantically pressed the levers on his lighting board.

“Sorry Boss, just…give me a second here…”

Adrian let out a dramatic sigh and caught Violet’s eye. Violet smiled nervously. 

“You my dear are a marvel. Keep doing what you’re doing. if our dear Andrew here can get some light on this part of the stage, we might actually be able to see the best Viola this theater has seen in a decade!” And with that he leapt down again and headed over to help Andy with the light board. 

A curious feeling came over Violet. She was not going to be fired after all... And she couldn’t be entirely sure because her whole body had been in a state of heightened terror at the time but it seemed like the director had actually just given her... a compliment? Called her a …marvel?  Was that it? Violet felt her pulse slow, and a warm blush spread across her cheeks. Maybe she wasn’t a hack after all. Maybe all the joy she’d felt rehearsing this role over the past two weeks wasn’t going to be snatched away from her in a single, humiliating blow. Maybe, just maybe, she was actually good at this thing she had slowly but inexorably grown to love doing .

As this realization was dawning, as Violet could feel her heart take a running leap into the possibility of her own talent, a soft pink light unspooled around her illuminating a wide circle on the stage in which she was standing.

“Ahhhh That’s it, well done Andrew!” said Adrian “Are you ready love?” he called to Violet. A beaming Violet looked out into the darkened theater.

“Yes Sir. Ready.”