Three

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if Riley had never entered it. Certainly not normal. Or sane. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if my mother had never gone to Las Vegas, or if she hadn't taken that first drink. Sometimes I wonder how my life would be different if I hadn't moved to Cornflower Way. If my mother hadn't insisted on this location. How different would things be?

So many what ifs wander in and out of my mind, sometimes it's hard to contain. It hurts my heart, if not my brain, thinking how I could have handled things differently. If we all could have handled things differently.

I lay awake at night, looking up at my bland white ceiling, thinking of the night that it happened, and the night I found out it happened. Thinking what I could have done differently. How I could have prevented it.

Sometimes I wonder if everything is my fault, and if I should just start accepting that to always be my final answer.

I let the what ifs take over my brain. I let them consume all of its space and energy, until I am too exhausted to possibly take any more. Until my brain runs out of reasons to stay awake anymore. I close my eyes and the blackness surrounds me, silencing all other thoughts. I lay there on my back, thinking of nothing. My brain eventually shuts off, and the silent dreamless world envelops me.

It's how I fall asleep. It's how I've always fallen asleep. There is no other alternative. No other way I can get a solid night's sleep.

I am aware of the misery of the idea, of torturing myself so I can fall asleep. But it's how I've always done it. And if I've learned anything from living with my father, nothing changes. And if it does, you pretend nothing ever happened.

Mr. Mason stood center stage, looking out at us. We were seated in the auditorium seats listening to what he was saying. Or at least the class was. I was in my usual back row seat, except this time was different. This time I was trying not to stare at the back of Riley's head.

"You all know how these things go," Mr. Mason said. "We'll have the first rehearsals with scripts, but after that I expect the scripts to be thrown in the trash. Not literally," he said, looking at me. I heard a stifled laughter from the front of the room. I tried to maintain my facial composure. Mr. Mason would never let this go, would he?

"Mr. Mason I already know my lines," I called from the back in a clear voice.

He stopped, appearing surprised. "You do?" and when I nodded he said, "You know all of Rosalina's lines?"

"Yes, Mr. Mason."

I saw Riley turn around in his seat. I skillfully avoided his gaze.

"Well," Mr. Mason said after an awkward pause. "I guess we'll all move on then."

"I guess we will," I said more to myself than to anyone else.

He cleared his throat. "Let's get started then. Annaleigh? Riley? Act two. Everyone else — backstage."

Everyone shuffled out of their seats and headed backstage. And of course Riley had to wait for me to emerge out of my backseat.

"Trying to be a teacher's pet, eh?" he joked.

I looked straight ahead. "Just trying to prove a point."

"Which is?"

I stopped in my tracks. I was really getting sick of his antics.

"What's the point?" he asked again.

For the first time I looked him in the eye. "I'm good."

He laughed, but his eyes were startled. I just smirked and walked up to Mr. Mason.

"Now," Mr. Mason declared, "we are not rehearsing the beginning of this play. It's towards the middle. As you all know, I like to start in the middle so we can build the intensity between the characters. Then, for the beginning, Annaleigh and Riley will be used to their characters being in love."

Riley elbowed me. I glared at Mr. Mason.

"This is Rosalina and Marcus's first date." He looked over at me. "I assume you know the lines to this scene?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you?" he asked Riley.

"Uhh…"

I sighed as Mr. Mason handed him a script. "Review it," he said.

"You make me look bad," Riley whispered to me.

I ignored him.

"What about me?" Scott asked, coming out of the curtains.

"What about you?"

"Well, what am I supposed to play while Rosalina is off having this other love interest?" he said, looking pointedly at Riley. "What does Damien do?"

"Damien is still in the story, but not as prominently. He and Rosalina are temporarily broken up. You are in this play, but not in this scene."

Scott thought about it for a moment. "Great. Just as Annaleigh starts actually memorizing her lines, it's not with me."

I rolled my eyes. "Such an ass," I said under my breath. Scott just smiled mockingly at me, then left.

Riley and I walked over to a table set up to look like a date at a restaurant. We sat down while we waited for Mr. Mason to get situated.

"You better know your lines," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I'll get them down," he promised.

"You better."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you'll look like a moron."

"You didn't," he pointed out.

"I improvised. That takes skill and twelve years of training to master. You have to know your character inside and out."

"You know Rosalina?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Because. I'm an actress. I'm—"

"Good," he finished for me. "You're good."

I just stared at him, not quite knowing what to say.

"So what is Rosalina like?" he wondered.

I thought for just a moment.

"She's quiet, but carefree. And strong minded. She knows what she wants, and if what she wants becomes something she doesn't want anymore, she leaves. She finds someone else she wants, and she gets it. She never forgets anything, and although sometimes she forgives people, she knows it's never truly the same. She holds her own, and she does it with beauty and power."

"Kind of like you," Riley said, looking at me.

I stared right back, stunned he would make such a comparison.

Just then, Mr. Mason came over, clapping his hands in an excited way. "Good job, kids! You're practicing the intensity thing."

I leaned away from Riley, taken aback. Had I been looking intense?

"Okay," Mr. Mason said, clapping his hands again. "Let's start from the top of the scene. Annaleigh?" he said, motioning to me.

"Actually, Mr. Mason," I said, suddenly in a moment of panic, "I need to use the restroom."

"Okay," he said, confused. "Well, you know where it is."

I nodded and retreated backstage.

"Where're you going?" Scott asked.

"The bathroom," I said in a duh sort of way.

"Oh," he said in mock disappointment. "I thought you'd come to your senses and realized that Rosalina is supposed to be in love with Damien instead of that dickhead Marcus."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. I was half sure he was joking. I just shook my head, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door behind me.

For a long time, I stared at my reflection. I stared at me. Blonde hair, brown eyes, pink cheeks. I wasn't pretty. I knew I wasn't. Rosalina was gorgeous. She had everything, she knew everything. Annaleigh was just average. Although the name was pretty, everything else preceded the bar. Nothing felt right.

I ran my hands through my long blonde hair, trying to discover the reason everyone envied it so much. Did my hair color make me a better person? A better actress? I looked at my brown eyes. What did they mean? I searched though them, like they were a tunnel into my mind. I came up with nothing. I wasn't Rosalina. I knew nothing. I let my hand fall down my right cheek, feeling the warmth beneath it.

These were all the features people were green for. The whole damn ice cream cone. So why did I feel so incomplete? Like something was missing? I knew from somewhere inside me though, that it didn't have to do with my face.

Not many people knew what went on behind the blonde hair, brown eyes, and pink cheeks. Not many people knew what I thought about some days. What thoughts were forced into my brain. What I was forced to think about, be tortured by. Not many people knew what it did to me when I thought of my mother.

I put my face into my hands, letting it fall into the place it knew so well. I would not let myself fall apart. Not here, not now, hopefully not ever. I knew that last part was a lie. It was all a lie. I looked up at myself, again, trying to pull myself together.

I smiled at the girl in front of me. She smiled back. It seemed sincere. But I could detect the flaws. I knew her eyes were sad. I knew her heart was close to shattered, close to not being repaired again. I knew what went on behind the face. The smile stayed put, looking almost believable. I sighed, and the smile fell from her face. I knew what I had to do.

It's all it was and all it would ever be — acting.

I had to act like I was okay. I had to act like I was Rosalina. More than that, I had to be Rosalina. I had to put away Annaleigh and all her misery. None of that mattered when I was on stage. All that mattered was Rosalina and her life. My life always faded in the distance when I declared myself Rosalina. No one cared about me. Not Scott, not Riley, not Mr. Mason, not my parents, and most of all, not even me.

I sighed, then left the bathroom, without another look at myself. Instead, I pictured Rosalina, and how I needed her life to be. I had to live vicariously through her. I had to be Rosalina.

I walked confidently back to the stage, ignoring Scott's comment about how long I had been in the bathroom.

"Are you ready now?" Mr. Mason asked as I sat down across from Riley.

I nodded.

"Okay. Ready and....action."

"I hope you like this restaurant," Riley said, as Marcus. "I checked to make sure it had chicken."

"That's my favorite food."

"I know."

I smiled at him, as if he had just flattered Annaleigh, not Rosalina.

"So," Marcus said."

I just stared back at him. The script said for Rosalina to repeat the so, but I ignored it. Rosalina never made the first move.

"Tell me about yourself, Rosalina."

"My favorite food is chicken."

His smile faltered. "I already know that."

I sighed, conveying frustration. Damien would have gotten the joke. I saw Mr. Mason nod from his director's chair. He understood what I meant.

"What about you?" I asked, gazing at Riley.

"What about me?"

I pretended to think. "What do you regret most about your life?"

Riley laughed. "Wow we're really diving into here, aren't we?"

Again, I ignored the script. I just stared.

He leaned forward onto the table. "The thing I regret the most…would be not having asked you out sooner."

I rolled my eyes. Either someone really corny wrote the script, or Marcus was just written to be a corny guy.

"Well," I said, returning back to character, "if you had asked me out any sooner I would have said no."

Riley pretended to be confused. "Why?"

"I wouldn't have been available."

"I see."

I took a fake sip of the empty cup sitting by my plate. The script said an awkward silence. Rosalina is not an awkward girl. She always has to be doing something.

"Rosalina," Riley said, "have you even been in a serious relationship?"

"Define serious."

"You love him."

I pretended to think about it for a moment. "No," I lied.

"That's comforting."

"Why?"

"Because maybe I'll be the first."

Okay, Marcus was definitely written to be a corny character. The writer's are better than this.

There was another awkward pause. I took another fake sip.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Sure."

We got up and some set people behind us took away the table. Normally, there'd be more of a production, but it was only the first rehearsal.

Riley took hold of my hand. "I had a really great time tonight."

"Me too."

I could feel him looking at me, so I looked up. But when I did, I wasn't looking at Marcus. I was looking at Riley. And I could see the desire in his eyes. I knew how much he wished this wasn't scripted.

Suddenly, Riley was leaning in. My eyes widened in surprise. I wracked my brain, trying to remember if there was a kiss in this scene. But I knew this scene by heart. There wasn't.

He took my face in his hands, and looked into my eyes. No tried I tell him. He either didn't notice, or just flat out ignored me. I mentally sighed This was acting, not real life. I had to go back to Rosalina.

Just as his mouth was inches away from mine, I heard a voice from behind me.

"What the hell?!"

Riley dropped his hands from my face and I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked over. Of course, it was Scott.

"Scott! You interrupted rehearsal!" Mr. Mason scolded from his chair.

"Oh you mean Annaleigh and Riley's make out session?"

"Excuse me?"

"Rosalina and Marcus aren't supposed to kiss in this scene."

"So?"

I sighed. "It's called acting, Scott," I said. "Sometimes you just get caught up in the scene. You don't always have to follow the script."

"Well it wasn't supposed to happen yet. It could have thrown off the entire act."

I sighed again. "Why do you care?"

"What?"

"I need five," Mr. Mason called, muttering something about teenage drama under his breath.

"Why do you care?" I repeated to Scott.

He looked taken aback. "I don't," he said, then left.

Riley and I were silent for a moment. I hated being alone with him.

Finally, he looked at me and grinned. "You so wanted to kiss me."

I just glared at him.

"I could see it in your eyes."

"I was acting," I scoffed. "You were Marcus and I was Rosalina."

"Acting," he repeated.

I nodded stiffly.

"Okay," he said after a while. "You just keep telling yourself that."

He started to walk away, but stopped when I said, "Why did you come back?"

"What?"

"Why?"

"I told you. I couldn't stay away," he said.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Why?"

"If you really couldn't stay away from me, you wouldn't have left in the first place."

He looked at me for a long time, considering this.

"Why did you come back?" I repeated.

"It just felt like the right thing to do."

"The right thing."

"Yes."

"If you knew anything about doing the right thing, we would not be here right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've never done the right thing."

"I've changed."

"I don't believe you," I said.

"You need to learn to trust, then."

"I'll learn to trust when I have a reason to."

"I don't like how things are."

"But it's how they are."

"I don't like it, though."

"So?"

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. I shook my head.

"Nothing is going to change how things are," I said. "And nothing will change what happened, and what you did. You can't take it back, no matter how much you want to."

"It's not me, though. It's you."

"Excuse me?"

"You're stubborn."

"Stop."

"It's true. It's how you've always been. And you never forgive anyone, even when it was a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake," I said through gritted teeth. "Did you ever stop to think about me? About everything I've had to go through? Have you realized that most of it is your fault?"

He just stared at me.

"Just go," I said quietly. He looked like he hadn't heard me, though. I was about to repeat myself, when he stepped away from me. Silently, he retreated down the steps and out the door.

I was quiet for a moment. Shocked and hurt. Then I heard a voice behind me.

"I guess I'm not the only ass in your life."

I turned around to find Scott.

"Guess not," I muttered.

He paused, as if finding the right words. "You okay?"

I exhaled and closed my eyes. "No and you're still an ass."

For a second I felt bad. But then I remembered I shouldn't care. He was. He just shrugged and walked away.

After a couple minutes of just standing there, I walked out too. I walked all the way home, trying not to think of the horrible day I'd had. I tried not to think of the horrible path my life had taken. Of how horrible I felt at that moment.

When I reached my house, I just climbed into the truck. My dad would find me eventually. And then we could drive off together, both silently reminiscing, and wishing we didn't have to. Both being sad, and both falling into a pool of misery over that one person. That one person we'd both loved so much.

I sat in her truck. My mother's truck. What she had left behind. What my father and I were forced look at everyday. To be reminded of the loss.

Of the terrible, terrible loss that was my mother.