Ophelia leaned against the door regretting the entire evening. She slowly
paced herself to the staircase and she began to cry. She sobbed the whole
way up the stairs and to her bed. She cried herself to sleep, still fully
clothed.
Ophelia screamed when she woke up the next morning. Eric had been hovering above her. She realized who was and began panting. As she had finally caught her breath, she spoke up, "Wha.wha.what time is it?"
"Ten o' clock," he replied. "You're missing rehearsal. The director sent me to check on you."
Ophelia groaned and buried her head in her hands. She rushed into the bathroom and began removing the makeup she had forgotten to take off the night before.
"Dear." Eric began, "why are you still fully clothed?"
"I took a sleeping pill," she lied. "It put me out like a light."
Ophelia barely had the time to shower. By the time she had arrived at the playhouse, the actors had taken their lunch break. She glanced around. Where was Eric? Maybe he was backstage. No. She looked out from behind the curtain. Evan. Amelia. The director. The cast. Where was Eric?
Since she couldn't find Eric, Ophelia decided to join Evan and Amelia, "Bonjour."
"Bonjour," Amelia smiled.
"I can't find Eric and I was wondering if you'd mind if I joined you?"
"Not at all," Amelia said as she pulled up an extra chair.
"Merci. I hope there are no hard feelings from earlier. I was a bit cranky from being out so late last night."
"Of course not," Amelia smiled feebly as she accepted the apology. "Out late, you said? Not to be rude, but why were you out so late?"
"I was with," she glanced at Evan and back to Amelia, "a friend at a little café. We talked for hours without realizing it. We had a little 'tiff' and we were making up."
"You seem to make up quite a lot," Amelia guffawed at her joke as Evan hung his head from the unintended rudeness.
"I suppose I do." Ophelia replied sheepishly.
They continued on with their lunches until the director called for places. Evan and Amelia had already passed out scripts and Ophelia had to catch up on what had happened in a short amount of time. Finally, Eric arrived back at the playhouse. He took his stance and the rehearsal resumed. After they were dismissed for the evening, Ophelia ran to Eric.
"Pigeon, where were you? I looked everywhere."
"Oh," he stuttered, "I was j-j-just g-g-getting lunch at a c-c-café."
"Is something the matter?"
"Just a little.little out of breath from the.the dancing, that's all."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Good, then you can join me for a little supper."
Evan took Ophelia's arm and walked her out into the sunset of Paris. The streets were crowded with mothers and fathers returning home from work. They rushed into a little café and sat down.
"Dear," Ophelia was quite puzzled, "you seem a little tense."
"I must have a pulled a muscle," he rubbed his shoulder and continued looking at the menu.
"I know this is silly of me.but I feel like you're hiding something from me."
"Hiding something?" she finally had gotten his attention.
"Yes," she began worrying she was correct. "Who did you meet at the café?"
"No one," he tried to keep eye contact at a possible low. "I ate alone."
"Was there a woman?"
"Not at first."
"Elaborate."
"She's just an old friend that I ran into," he explained. "I did intend on eating alone. Besides, it's not like we're that serious. Are we?"
"No, I suppose not," she said. "We only slept together!"
"Good, you do see it my way."
"You pig!" she screamed as she stood up. "I was being sarcastic!"
"I-I-I was too!" he was greatly scared of Ophelia by this point. "Dear, just sit down. L-l-l-let's talk about this."
"Start talking," Ophelia slowly and reluctantly sat down.
"We ate lunch together," he began, "that's it! I swear! Nothing happened. Just lunch between two friend, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," she replied. "When you don't have to have a shoe up your ass to tell the truth."
"I just thought you'd take it the wrong way, quite like what you're doing now."
"You don't know me at all!" With that Ophelia stormed out of the café in an angry rage.
As she rushed down the sidewalk, she began to slow down and cry. She saw Evan and Amelia holding each other close as they walked down the streets. For some reason, Ophelia began to cry more. She ducked into an ally. Maybe they hadn't seen her.
Earlier that day, Evan had had a strange feeling. "A friend?" What was that supposed to mean? Was she embarrassed that she had spent a night talking to him? Embarrassed of their friendship? Or was it that she was afraid what Amelia might think? Perhaps that was it. He sat and stared as Amelia and she conversed. They seemed to get along just splendidly. Apparently, he was meant to be with Amelia. But for some reason, he couldn't stop staring into Ophelia's eyes. She was beautiful. Beauty? It was an infatuation. He had never loved her. He had only thought she was pretty. Or was it?
Evan's head was filled with so much doubt; he was barely sure of what his name was. Could he walk to the limits of Paris with Amelia? He had plans with Amelia that night. He would find out then. If he could get lost in a different world with her, Ophelia had just been an infatuation. But did he want Ophelia to be an infatuation? He loved her. He knew it in his heart, but his head refused to admit to it. What was real to him?
When the lunch break had ended, Evan could not focus on any of his work. He wanted to shut out what had happened those two nights, but he had filled himself with doubt. He let Amelia do the focusing and chose a corner in the back. He began to write. Nothing in it had anything to do with the play. It was something for his eyes only. If anyone ever saw it, he'd face public humiliation.
As the rehearsal dragged on, he continued to write. He didn't stop until it had ended. As Amelia walked over, he stuffed it into his script where it couldn't be seen.
"You've been awfully distant today," she said.
"I'm sorry," he replied. "I guess I've just been stressed with the play and everything."
"It's the first rehearsal," Amelia pointed out.
"The first of many."
"Well, let's just go have a good time and get your mind off all this nonsense."
The night seemed to drag on. Evan had concentrated so much on getting lost with Amelia, he had couldn't even focus on her. As they approached a small café, they saw Ophelia running into an ally crying.
"We should go see what is wrong, no?" Ophelia asked.
They crossed the street and followed her into the ally, "Ophelia?"
She was pushed up against the wall trying to hide from them. She opened one eye, "Holy mother of Jesus."
"Is some the matter?" he asked.
"I didn't want you to see me," she confessed. "Eric and I quarreled."
"Oh you poor dear," Amelia pulled out a handkerchief as she tried her best to be consoling.
Ophelia accepted the handkerchief, "He was with another woman at lunch and then he lied about it. He said it was nothing. I told him it wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't needed to shove my heel up his ass to tell the truth."
"Aw, don't cry," Amelia seemed to find comforting an easy thing to do. "You go home and eat all the ice cream you want. Best to replace men."
Ophelia sniffed one last sniff and smiled, "Okay. Thank you for putting up with such a big baby."
"Men are pigs, you're not a baby."
They said their goodbyes and Ophelia walked home. Evan was astounded, "Ever thought of going into therapy?"
"I'm writer too, Evan," she began, "I know what people like to hear."
Evan bit his lip. She had never said something as shallow as that. He was impressed for a moment, but the feeling had been quickly replaced with uncertainty. They still had a chance. He had all of Paris for her to change her shallow ways. For, even Ophelia had to change for him to.No! He never loved her! Or had he? Had she?
Ophelia screamed when she woke up the next morning. Eric had been hovering above her. She realized who was and began panting. As she had finally caught her breath, she spoke up, "Wha.wha.what time is it?"
"Ten o' clock," he replied. "You're missing rehearsal. The director sent me to check on you."
Ophelia groaned and buried her head in her hands. She rushed into the bathroom and began removing the makeup she had forgotten to take off the night before.
"Dear." Eric began, "why are you still fully clothed?"
"I took a sleeping pill," she lied. "It put me out like a light."
Ophelia barely had the time to shower. By the time she had arrived at the playhouse, the actors had taken their lunch break. She glanced around. Where was Eric? Maybe he was backstage. No. She looked out from behind the curtain. Evan. Amelia. The director. The cast. Where was Eric?
Since she couldn't find Eric, Ophelia decided to join Evan and Amelia, "Bonjour."
"Bonjour," Amelia smiled.
"I can't find Eric and I was wondering if you'd mind if I joined you?"
"Not at all," Amelia said as she pulled up an extra chair.
"Merci. I hope there are no hard feelings from earlier. I was a bit cranky from being out so late last night."
"Of course not," Amelia smiled feebly as she accepted the apology. "Out late, you said? Not to be rude, but why were you out so late?"
"I was with," she glanced at Evan and back to Amelia, "a friend at a little café. We talked for hours without realizing it. We had a little 'tiff' and we were making up."
"You seem to make up quite a lot," Amelia guffawed at her joke as Evan hung his head from the unintended rudeness.
"I suppose I do." Ophelia replied sheepishly.
They continued on with their lunches until the director called for places. Evan and Amelia had already passed out scripts and Ophelia had to catch up on what had happened in a short amount of time. Finally, Eric arrived back at the playhouse. He took his stance and the rehearsal resumed. After they were dismissed for the evening, Ophelia ran to Eric.
"Pigeon, where were you? I looked everywhere."
"Oh," he stuttered, "I was j-j-just g-g-getting lunch at a c-c-café."
"Is something the matter?"
"Just a little.little out of breath from the.the dancing, that's all."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Good, then you can join me for a little supper."
Evan took Ophelia's arm and walked her out into the sunset of Paris. The streets were crowded with mothers and fathers returning home from work. They rushed into a little café and sat down.
"Dear," Ophelia was quite puzzled, "you seem a little tense."
"I must have a pulled a muscle," he rubbed his shoulder and continued looking at the menu.
"I know this is silly of me.but I feel like you're hiding something from me."
"Hiding something?" she finally had gotten his attention.
"Yes," she began worrying she was correct. "Who did you meet at the café?"
"No one," he tried to keep eye contact at a possible low. "I ate alone."
"Was there a woman?"
"Not at first."
"Elaborate."
"She's just an old friend that I ran into," he explained. "I did intend on eating alone. Besides, it's not like we're that serious. Are we?"
"No, I suppose not," she said. "We only slept together!"
"Good, you do see it my way."
"You pig!" she screamed as she stood up. "I was being sarcastic!"
"I-I-I was too!" he was greatly scared of Ophelia by this point. "Dear, just sit down. L-l-l-let's talk about this."
"Start talking," Ophelia slowly and reluctantly sat down.
"We ate lunch together," he began, "that's it! I swear! Nothing happened. Just lunch between two friend, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," she replied. "When you don't have to have a shoe up your ass to tell the truth."
"I just thought you'd take it the wrong way, quite like what you're doing now."
"You don't know me at all!" With that Ophelia stormed out of the café in an angry rage.
As she rushed down the sidewalk, she began to slow down and cry. She saw Evan and Amelia holding each other close as they walked down the streets. For some reason, Ophelia began to cry more. She ducked into an ally. Maybe they hadn't seen her.
Earlier that day, Evan had had a strange feeling. "A friend?" What was that supposed to mean? Was she embarrassed that she had spent a night talking to him? Embarrassed of their friendship? Or was it that she was afraid what Amelia might think? Perhaps that was it. He sat and stared as Amelia and she conversed. They seemed to get along just splendidly. Apparently, he was meant to be with Amelia. But for some reason, he couldn't stop staring into Ophelia's eyes. She was beautiful. Beauty? It was an infatuation. He had never loved her. He had only thought she was pretty. Or was it?
Evan's head was filled with so much doubt; he was barely sure of what his name was. Could he walk to the limits of Paris with Amelia? He had plans with Amelia that night. He would find out then. If he could get lost in a different world with her, Ophelia had just been an infatuation. But did he want Ophelia to be an infatuation? He loved her. He knew it in his heart, but his head refused to admit to it. What was real to him?
When the lunch break had ended, Evan could not focus on any of his work. He wanted to shut out what had happened those two nights, but he had filled himself with doubt. He let Amelia do the focusing and chose a corner in the back. He began to write. Nothing in it had anything to do with the play. It was something for his eyes only. If anyone ever saw it, he'd face public humiliation.
As the rehearsal dragged on, he continued to write. He didn't stop until it had ended. As Amelia walked over, he stuffed it into his script where it couldn't be seen.
"You've been awfully distant today," she said.
"I'm sorry," he replied. "I guess I've just been stressed with the play and everything."
"It's the first rehearsal," Amelia pointed out.
"The first of many."
"Well, let's just go have a good time and get your mind off all this nonsense."
The night seemed to drag on. Evan had concentrated so much on getting lost with Amelia, he had couldn't even focus on her. As they approached a small café, they saw Ophelia running into an ally crying.
"We should go see what is wrong, no?" Ophelia asked.
They crossed the street and followed her into the ally, "Ophelia?"
She was pushed up against the wall trying to hide from them. She opened one eye, "Holy mother of Jesus."
"Is some the matter?" he asked.
"I didn't want you to see me," she confessed. "Eric and I quarreled."
"Oh you poor dear," Amelia pulled out a handkerchief as she tried her best to be consoling.
Ophelia accepted the handkerchief, "He was with another woman at lunch and then he lied about it. He said it was nothing. I told him it wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't needed to shove my heel up his ass to tell the truth."
"Aw, don't cry," Amelia seemed to find comforting an easy thing to do. "You go home and eat all the ice cream you want. Best to replace men."
Ophelia sniffed one last sniff and smiled, "Okay. Thank you for putting up with such a big baby."
"Men are pigs, you're not a baby."
They said their goodbyes and Ophelia walked home. Evan was astounded, "Ever thought of going into therapy?"
"I'm writer too, Evan," she began, "I know what people like to hear."
Evan bit his lip. She had never said something as shallow as that. He was impressed for a moment, but the feeling had been quickly replaced with uncertainty. They still had a chance. He had all of Paris for her to change her shallow ways. For, even Ophelia had to change for him to.No! He never loved her! Or had he? Had she?
