Not to Me

I tugged nervously at my collar. At the very least, I thought, I looked like I actually belonged here. The rich purple of my cloak, and the blue of the clothes underneath, blended in well with the other colors of the royal court around me.

Still sucked, though.

The frills extending from the collar rubbed against my chin, and I pulled it back as discretely as I could. I’d always hated turtlenecks, and this felt like the turtliest of them all. Some Victorian designer HAD to have looked at this, and thought: “Yeah, none of that.” And thank God for them.

In fact, who even called them turtlenecks? Did they think turtles have short necks? Never saw a turtle eating? Maybe if he saw what you saw in that one zoo… turtles popping out their necks are creepy as f-

“Stranger! Why are you in my lands?” From the throne came the loud voice of the King, and all in the royal court fell silent.

Ah. Right. Fit in.

“My Liege, I am-” I began, but was immediately cut off.

“Father,” the Princess said loudly, hitting me with a side eye that could only mean “shut up, it’s not your cue yet.”

I don’t think it’s my cue yet,

The Princess continued, “This man is simply another suitor, who’s come to ask for my hand in marriage, as many have before. A rather handsome one, in fact,” she added, before slyly winking at me. My heart skipped a beat.

The King stroked his beard, deep in thought. “Many suitors come here bearing gifts of gold and spices, or with an impressive entourage of jesters and music makers. And you have the gall to come with neither?”

“Can you not see the clothes on his back? The finest of silks, in the most royal of colors. His lands must be prosperous, if these are what he considers traveling garments!” The Princess argued back.

“Cloths shall not make the man! With what little I’ve seen of him, he acts in ways no prince has ever done so! No matter the pen you put the pig in, it shall still wallow in its filth!” The assembled crowd murmured in agreement with the King, their appreciation towards my clothes turning into disgust.

I stepped forward now. “My Liege, I am-”

One of the advisors gasped, cutting me off once more. “The lack of respect! The pig does not even will himself to bow before royalty.”

The King shook his head once more. “I will have to discuss this with my court. Do not go anywhere, boy, I will hear you out once we return.” The King clapped his hands, and his advisors joined him in an adjacent room as the rest of the court filed out. Eventually, only me and the Princess were left inside, and I could feel a spotlight burning on both of us.

“Are you okay?” she asked from behind me. I hadn’t turned around, and was still facing the empty throne in front.

“He’s right, you know.” I answered back. “Princess Sofia, I-I don’t… belong here.”

“You think I didn’t know that?” A pause. “Turn around.” It was a whisper this time, almost a command.

My body responded, almost robotically, and soon enough I was facing her. The light shining down lit her hair into a colorful brown fire, and thoughts vanished from my brain. She stepped forward now, caressing my face with one hand and looking deeply into my eyes.

“You’re no outsider. Not to me,” she whispered.

She looked at me expectantly, and something in my brain told me I had to say something, something specific, but I couldn’t quite piece it together.

“My Princess, uhhh, I-um,”

“PAUSE!” The shout hit like a rock on a frozen lake, crashing through the ice of our scene's emotions. The other lights flared on, drowning out the spotlight on us, and I could see the origin of the shout: our play’s director, rising from the chair he frequented in the middle of the empty rows.

“Good run, everyone! Let’s take a quick break, okay? Back in 10, then we'll go from the top.” he shouted out to the stage, and one by one, the crew waiting in the sidelines walked past the curtains into their own little groups, the King’s actor running to the bathroom, the advisors joining the props team, talking, laughing, eyeing the 2 of us left on the stage.

Sofia smiled at me now, out of character, yet still holding her dress with a sort of... regal beauty? I stared as she bounded down the steps, and nervously tugged my itching collar, wondering if I should follow. The director answered that by blocking my path.

“John? Let’s talk.”

Oh no.

He sat me down at the edge of the stage, overlooking a whole auditorium of empty seats. Behind me, I could hear the props being moved around, laughing from the actors, and even our floor manager going over the last run with the technical team. Despite all that, Mark, the director, was focused on me.

“What’s up?” he began.

Oh nonono. He knows you messed up. Just tell him you’ll do better, maybe he’ll let it go-

“You missed quite a lot there, you know. Said your line too early, forgot to turn around, and forgot the line right after that one too.”

“I can do better,” I blurted out. “I know, I messed up the cues a bit, and the lines too but I’m just- nervous? I guess? Like, I know these lines by heart, I promise, but-”

“Pause.” His hand raised in the air, with the same authority he used in stopping a failed runthrough, and I shut up immediately.

“You don’t have to tell me you can do better,” he continued. “Sofia always believed you were the one to choose, and I can see why. I was there when you auditioned. When we first rehearsed. I’ve seen you put this script to life. And yet… when we’re so close to opening night, you look like a robot on stage. A malfunctioning one, at that.”

I pulled my collar again.

“Is it the costume? We can make changes, you know? Maybe a shorter neck, less frills, or-”

“NO!” I said, maybe a little too loudly for my comfort, with those around us shooting a quick glance before turning away again. “No, I promise, it’s okay. I guess the first time in the costume is just getting to me, you know?” I ended with a forced smile, and Mark’s eyes seemed to see right through it.

Nevertheless, he let it go. Standing up, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I trust you on that. I’ll order those costume changes, don’t worry. Can’t have my rookie feeling like he’s not comfortable in his own skin, huh?” He smiled at that, and left me to my own thoughts.

Not comfortable? If only you knew.

I can’t tell how long I sat there, mulling over all he'd said, while also trying to remember the lines I should’ve memorized months ago. TIme flew by, and the next thing I knew, Sofia was helping me up.

“You ready, rookie?” she asked.

“More ready than you.”

She laughed. “You look destroyed. Did Mark get to you that bad?”

I waved it off. “I’ll explain later. Promise. For now-”

As if to finish my sentence, Mark shouted from his seat: “Places, everyone! The show must go on!”

I sighed. Yep. The show must go on.

HOURS LATER

My body ached as I sat down on the bench. Practice run after practice run had killed me, and I was more than excited to go home and take a shower.

Gotta get used to it. Day by day, all the way until opening night. They trust me to nail this.

Do they really though?

Before I could answer my own brain’s attacks on me, my thoughts were interrupted by voices close by.

“Just the Starbucks right? I’ll catch up in a bit!” Sofia’s voice carried clear over the wind. The group responded with a choruses of “bye’s” and “stay safe’s”, and I didn’t bother turning my head until she planted herself next to me on the bench.

“Whatchu doing here, all alone?” she began inquisitively.

“I’m, uhhh, just waiting for my ride.” I answered back.

Scooting closer to me, she continued: “Mhm, mhm. And what time they arriving?”

I moved farther away, but realized I was backed up on the wall. “Plenty of space on the bench, you know,” I hinted, but it went ignored.

“Who’s picking you up?”

“My mom.” I think. The texts were honestly very vague, and I never knew what to make of them.

“What time?”

No idea. “8:30.”

She paused at that answer. “Uh huh. And what time is it?”

I looked at my watch, and the display of 6:30 PM glowed back at me. Sofia saw this too, and smiled.

“So you were planning to stay on this bench for 2 hours?”

“It’s an interesting bench.”

She laughed at that. “Sure is. And your mom is an interesting mom, who always picks you up an hour late. Is the bench interesting enough for all that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe.” Couldn’t think of a better lie, huh? Almost like she actually knows you, man.

“You know, rehearsal’s over for the day already.”

“Yeah, I knew that,” I answered back. “What about it?”

“Soooo, you can stop acting your part now.”

“Acting?”

“As someone who doesn’t belong.” A pause. “As an outsider,” she finished.

I paused at that. “Maybe I’m just tired. Social battery running low. Did you think of that?”

“Perhaps,” she shrugged. “I know you, and that could happen. But I also know that you’d never turn down an iced coffee, and yet, when practically everyone, including your good friend Sofia here, decides to crash a Starbucks post-rehearsal, you’re,” she gestured at the bench overlooking the empty parking lot, “here.”

I sighed. Dead on as usual. “Sofia. Be honest.”

“Go on?” she asked back.

“Did I deserve this role?”

She laughed at that. “Of course. What makes you think otherwise?”

“Cause I’m a rookie! I’ve never been in a production this big!”

“Rookies have to start somewhere, man.”

“Not in lead roles! Not like this!” I stopped, trying to control the frustration bubbling through to the surface. “Months in, and I still barely know anyone I’m working with, ‘cept for you. Some of these people have been with you guys for years, don’t you think they got just a tiny bit upset when some first-year takes the lead role?” I paused again, and Sofia looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to finish.

“I just, I can’t bear failing the team. All these amazing and experienced people, you most of all. Not after the work everyone’s done to make this happen. Not after the recommendation you put out for me.”

I stopped now, and let the anger drain from my body. Slumping back, I stared straight ahead, and the silence waited for someone to break it.

And Sofia broke it with a laugh, confusing me.

“Oh, John,” she began mid laugh. “Did you really think my recommendation meant anything?”

“Huh?”

“Look, no matter how close we all get here, or how friendly we are with each other, we’re all, first and foremost, here for the theatre. We’re here to make stories shine and bring scripts to life. And if they didn’t think you would be the person to make that happen, then they never would’ve chosen you. My recommendation would’ve meant squat.”

Oh. “Oh.” That was the only word I could muster.

“And, yeah, some, or well, a lot of people got upset. They hated that they were gonna do all this work, all these props and set designs, just for some rookie to steal the show. But they stayed. You know why?”

“Pretty sure I do, yes.”

“Say it then.”

They believe in me to pull this off. “I can’t.”

She smiled. “Then I will. They believe in you to pull this off, John. Just as much as I believed when I first mentioned you to Mark. You may play a drifter who doesn’t quite belong in the play, but that doesn’t have to be you off the stage too. Roles aren’t everything. I had to play a mute girl once, you know.”

I smiled at the thought. “The ever-talkative Sofia, a mute? Can’t imagine.”

She punched me for that. “Hey!” I protested.

“You deserve that. But you get my point, right?” she asked. I nodded in return.

“You were one of us the moment you passed that audition.” Suddenly, her hand moved to caress my face in the most dramatic way possible. “You’re no outsider. Not to me.”

We stayed like that for a moment, before we both burst out laughing.

“That was… so cheesy,” I could barely get the words out in between laughs. Sofia could barely speak at all. But when we had finally caught our breath again, I found her standing, extending her hand towards me, face red and smiling from the lack of breath.

“Come on, now. They’re all waiting in Starbucks,” she teased.

I only hesitated for a moment more, before taking her hand.