A Night Out with Max

Most of the crowd had left by now, but there were still a few people talking near the doors and I watched them without really looking as I sat on the edge of the stage. The stage was old, to the point where some of the wood had begun to warp. But it was well polished, and even though the wood was dark and the lights were low, there was still a gleam to it. 

We had run the play twice back to back, so by the end of it I was exhausted, but not quite tired in a way that meant I could sleep. I was wired. I always was after a performance, as was Max and most of the other actors. We were supposed to go out for drinks, but Max was still at the front of the theatre talking to everyone who had come to see her, and Soto was helping tear down. 

When the last of the crowd had filtered into the lobby, I got up from the stage and went through the back curtain to find Soto. The director and some of the actors were talking together as the stage crew packed up around them. Pearl noticed me when I came in and slipped away from the others. 

“I thought you had left already,” she said with her wide smile. 

“No.” I pointed back over my shoulder. “I was just out on the stage.” I glanced around the room, but did not see Soto. 

“Max is up front if you’re looking for her,” said Pearl.

“I know. Have you seen Soto?”

“Soto?”

“The guy on sound.”

“Oh, him.” Pearl had lost interest now that she could not tease me about Max. “He went back up to the booth, I think.”

I don’t know how Soto had made it past me, but when I came to the sound booth I found him inside, asleep in his chair. I knocked on the glass of the door and Soto opened one eye to look at me. Then he smiled and I pushed the door open. 

“Hey, Nolan,”—Soto pushed his chair back and stretched—“I was wondering when you would appear and drag me off.” 

“We’re still waiting on Max,” I said. 

“So I should be able to get another hour's rest?”

“Or two if Henry came.”

Soto grinned, then pulled out the chair beside him, patting the seat. There was a tear in the leather, but I was used to the chair and rested on my left side to avoid it. Spain had played the night before, but Soto had missed the game. He set his phone on the soundboard and we watched the highlights together while we waited for Max. 

It was well past eleven when she came up. Max peaked through the window, her short, dark curls pressed up against the glass.  

“Sorry, I really hope you two weren’t waiting long,” said Max as she hurried inside. “I got hung up talking,” and she glanced at the clock. “Oh, good, It’s still early.” 

“It’s nearly midnight,” muttered Soto, but I could tell he did not mind having waited either because as he spoke he did not look up from the match. 

“Yes… Midnight,” said Max. She looked a bit harried and turned to the glass, trying to catch her reflection in it. “I know it’s late,” she said, patting down her hair. “I’m sorry. But I thought it was worse.” She turned around again and frowned. “I didn’t even know most of the crowd this time, but Campbell seemed to want me to meet them all.”

“He just wanted to be seen with someone young and pretty,” I said.

“You can’t be that insecure as a lead,” said Max.

“Well he is,” said Soto. 

I nodded. “Campbell’s been acting at The Green forever and he’s finally realized ‘this might be it,’” I said. “He did the same thing last show with Pearl.”

“I feel sorry for him,” said Max. “I mean he’s not a bad actor.”

“No, he’s just stupid.”

“Maybe if you were nicer you could be one of his girls, Nolan,” said Max.

Soto gave a short bark of laughter. “Not likely.

“By the way,” said Max as she searched through her purse, “I ran into Adrian—”

“No, Max,” I broke in. “ Did you invite him?”

She looked up. “You don’t like Adrian?”

“No.”

“Soto?”

“I don’t mind him,” said Soto. “But you have too many friends.”

“Fine.” Max took a stick of gum from her purse and bit off the end of it. Then she wrapped the rest and pushed it back in. “I told him to meet us there. I need to change,” and she pinched the tight collar of her grey dress. “Please tell me you brought real clothes this time, Nolan.” 

“No.”

“Well at least one of us will look like they live in the twentieth century,” she said. Then, with a glance at the clock again, “Say we meet out back in… Ten minutes?” 

“Fine.” 

Max left and Soto and I sat and watched the highlights over again. 

“Think it will be ten?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Fifteen and then we head out?”

“Sure.”

I leaned back in my chair and my back brushed up against where the leather had torn.

Outside, it was freezing. I had the coat I’d worn on stage, but it was too thin to do much against the late December cold. Max watched me shiver from between the folds of her massive coat.

“Do you feel stupid now?” she asked with a smirk.

“I feel stupid all the time, Max,” I said, then dug about in my pocket and came up with a lighter and a pack of prop cigs. My hands were stiff, but I managed to get one loose from the box and clutched it between my lips. Then I held the lighter up until the tip caught.

“Try two,” said Max. “Maybe you’ll heat up quicker that way.”

“He’ll swallow it,” said Soto.

“But at least you would be warm, eh, Nolan?”

“I’d be warm too if I chased you up this street,” I said.

Max let out a high, silvery laugh. “That’d be a sight.” She pulled one of my suspenders out, then let it snap back into place. “But we’re actors so in the end no one would wonder.”

I took the cigarette from my lips and grinned at her. 

Adrian was waiting for us when we arrived. He had taken a table in the middle of the pub, which was the first straw. I had hoped we would sit at the bar, or at least a back table. It was a round three seater and as we came over, I dragged a chair out from the one beside us and sank into it while Adrian stood and kissed Max on the cheek and shook Soto’s hand. Then he sat back down and grinned. His grin was wider than Pearl’s, though his mouth was smaller.

“Nolan, what are you wearing?”

I looked up from the menu. “Hmm?” 

Adrian turned back to Max instead of saying it over again. “You should have come dressed up too,” he said. “I should have come dressed up. Soto, you could borrow something from me and—”

I fished the cigarettes from my pocket again and slipped one out. We had barely sat down and I was already wishing that it was real tobacco, which was saying something. I hated to smoke, and I hated those who did. It was filthy. I rolled the paper between my fingers and looked around for a server. There were ten dollars in my wallet, but I was determined to stretch it anyway I could. Soto would lend me twenty, and if not Max would because she was the one who had told Adrian we were going out and I knew it was easy to make her feel sorry. Either way, I was going to have to get very drunk and maybe then I could still enjoy the night.

“So what was the play?” That was Adrian.

“Arthur Miller,” said Max. 

“Don’t think I’ve heard of that one.” 

Max laughed. “No, that’s the writer,” she said. I saw her eyes flick towards me. “The play was The Premier.” 

“Oh,” said Adrian with veiled disinterest. “I might have read that one in school.”

“I think we all feel that way,” said Max. “But it’s old and obscure. No one knows about it except for weirdos like Nolan and I.”

I always hated when she felt she had to apologize for knowing more than others and I was mad with Adrian because Max had cared enough to try and cover for him. But the server came then and I let the feeling slip away as I tried to decide on the best antidote for the evening.

Adrian was nearly a very handsome person, but he had the misfortune of having small, almost beady eyes which rested at odds with the rest of his full, strong features. He wore a pair of round wire thin glasses to try and cover this up, and it mostly worked, but knowing that he could do without them ruined the effect. His curly hair was a cut close to his head and it was a golden blonde, light, though not as light as mine, and I knew for a fact that Max adored the colour of it because she had told me so herself.

He was the Broadway type, or at least that was how I saw him. He said he could act, but he never boasted about it so I knew it was nothing special. I had never seen him act. I had heard him sing, and he had a very good voice, precise enough to enjoy, but strong enough to carry through a theatre, even without a mic. No, I had never seen him act, but I had heard him sing and he liked to show off that he could any chance he got so long as his intentions did not appear entirely blatant. 

It was past one in the morning now and I sat across from him. Somewhere around the fourth drink I had passed the rest of the prop cigs around the table. Soto had fallen asleep, a cigarette in his hand. Max had tucked hers behind her ear. I was almost certain that Adrian’s was in his pocket, stuffed away just as you would hide the odd trinket you wanted to take for a souvenir.

So Soto was asleep, and I was not entirely present either. Max and Adrian did all the talking. They talked about nothing mostly, which was what Adrian did best. I think people liked him for it. You could talk with Adrian for hours and come out on the other having learned nothing but lost nothing either. You never had to express any hard opinions. There was nothing challenging to it and you could remain as loose and general as you wanted. It was just gossip, but not even the formative kind since it was full of contradictions. It always felt too much like talking into a vacuum to ever appeal to me.

Max was telling him about how Campbell had shown her around and Adrian was smiling and nodding as he listened.

Then he asked, “So now that the play is finished, do you have any plans for next year?” It was almost a real question, but still banal enough to fit like something you read off a list of conversational starters. 

“Well I’ll be waitressing some,” said Max. “There’s a soap that starts auditions in January.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It's small time, but it could be a good start,” said Max, watching me. “I’ve been trying to convince Nolan to audition with me, but he’s too stubborn.”

“I just have standards,” I said and looked away. She was still watching me, but Adrian did not seem to notice. Two girls he knew had just come in and he waved them over. 

The table was becoming crowded. I pushed my chair closer to Soto and he woke up. He looked around the table with his calm, dark eyes, then saw the girls and smiled. Soto sat up straighter. Another of Adrian’s friends came in and the girl beside me moved closer until our arms were pressed together.

It was too bright and I was beginning to feel sick. The yellow lights above my head swam and reflected off the polished wood table. I could see fingerprints in the wood and on the clouded glass of the beer bottles. I had had too much to drink. Everyone was laughing and I could pick out Adrian’s high laugh through the bunch and see how he looked back and forth for approval after each joke.

I caught Max watching me from across the table, her brow furrowed. 

“You didn’t have to go and drink that much,” said Max as we left the bar. 

I frowned and took the last prop cigarette from my pocket, rolling it between my fingers as we walked. My foot scuffed on a loose brick and I stumbled, then righted myself. Max sighed and slipped her arm through mine. 

Soto had stayed behind, so it was just the two of us walking back through the cold now. The winter air felt good and the further we went the further my head cleared. It was a cloudless night with no signs of snow, and the stars were bright despite the nightglow of the city. 

“Adrian’s not a bad person,” said Max as we waited for a light to change. 

“No. He’s just not much of a person at all.” 

Max did not reply, but she didn’t pull away either so I went on.

“He doesn’t stand for anything,” I said. 

“Does he have to?”

“Acting used to mean something.” 

“You sound like an old man,” said Max. Then, “Look, the light’s turned.” She tugged on my arm and we stepped out into the street.

“He’s vapid and false and stupid,” I said as we crossed, “and I can’t stand the way he pretends to care about everything you have to say when he only really wants to hear the worthless bits—the small talk and the stuff that doesn’t matter.” I was beginning to feel hot again, even in the cold, and so I shut up.

“Nolan,” said Max, “you’re a deeply insecure person.”

“Am I?”

“Don’t get mad, darling. We both know you have to do all this to convince yourself this purist approach to it all isn’t going to kill you.”

“That’s quite the theory,” I said, but I was calm again. We were walking through the residential streets now and the windows were dark. 

“You can be dedicated to something without going crazy,” said Max. Then, “And if you really need to know why I put up with Adrian, it’s because sometimes I need to be around someone who isn’t so intense.”

“I thought that was what Henry was for.”

“Honestly, a two to one ratio is necessary with you, Nolan,” said Max, but she was smiling now.

We were quiet for a few blocks, then I asked, “You’re going away with him for Christmas, aren’t you?”

Max nodded. “Up North,” she said. “We’re going skiing.”

“You’re serious about him?”

Max tilted her head to the side and it bumped against my shoulder. “Sure.” She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I need a break before next year.” Then she turned to me. “And you?”

“No plans,” I said. I was too tired to lie to her.

Max squeezed my arm a bit tighter. “What about your sister?”

“After last year, her husband thinks I’m crazy. Lyndsey doesn’t care much to argue with him.” 

“Your father?”

“Not happening.”

“Nolan—”

“Look, I don’t mind being alone on Christmas,” I said. “Honestly, what’s so wrong with it? Not everyone goes mad when they have to sit with their own thoughts.” I rolled the cigarette around once more, then pushed it into my pocket. “It will be fine,” I said. “I’ll have a nice dinner, then watch something and go to sleep.” 

“Tootsie?” guessed Max. “If not that then something with De Niro. Pacino. Hopkins.”

“The greats.”

“You’re obsessive, Nolan,” said Max. “But you know I love you?”

“Of course.”

Her apartment was closer, and even if I could tell Max did not want to leave me to walk the rest of the way, she was tired and I wouldn’t have her walk back on her own. I left her at the front door and watched her through the glass. She looked back once when she was crossing the lobby and I waved, then Max hesitated so I began to walk again.  

I thought about the job as I made my way home. It was a terrible thing. I knew the writers and the director and I had seen what they had worked on before. They had no real interest in their work, but only the ease of their job and the money that came with it. 

But I could use the money. There would not be another play at The Green for a few months now, and when there was it would not pay well. I could look around, but I knew I would find nothing else. I needed the money, but I did not know if I could stand to take it. 

The warmth I had felt earlier had left my body, but I did not mind. I took off my coat and slung it over my shoulder. The cold bit at my skin and seeped into my bones, but it felt terrific to breathe in. There was something wonderfully isolating about it. I never understood why people thought it a sin to be alone on the holidays. Isolation is as healing to the soul as self loathing is to the mind.