Checked for continuity, grammar, and spelling: May 2, 2011.
Chapter Four: Leaps and Bounds
It was opening night of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the University. The design concept of the play was fairly simple. The Athenians donned togas with various states of decoration depending on rank, while the Fairies wore flowing satin with flower garlands. The set was simple, a few hand-painted backdrops, potted plants to simulate the forest, other necessary set pieces brought in as required. Exploring the Elizabethan casting style, each actor played more than one role with the traditional obvious paralleling between Theseus and Oberon, Hippolyta and Titania. However, they did not opt for an all male cast.
Sarah was nervous. She was due to graduate with a BA in Drama and History in four months. Because she decided to pursue a double major, and had to work almost full time to support herself, it had taken her a fifth year to complete all her studies. Her father and stepmother did not approve of her choice in academic field, though in all fairness Allison did try to convince her father to help with some of her fees. She finally succeeded for Sarah's last year, and that was greatly appreciated. It was a measure of how far they had come in their relationship over the past nine years. Things were still rocky at times, their personalities and interests were too different to expect otherwise. But at some point they had reached a level of deep friendship.
All this, however, was not the cause of her nerves. Somehow, she had gone through nearly all her studies majoring in Drama without having a stage role that encompassed more than a few lines. She normally was so busy all she could dedicate herself to were different technical roles. Nothing in the way of design beyond assisting the chief designers with a few scenes here or there. Rather, she built sets, ran props, worked the light and sound boards, sewed bits of costumes, and operated the spotlight once. This year, because her parents were helping her financially, Sarah did not have to work as much. That meant she could spend most of her time writing her Senior thesis and being more heavily involved in the actual productions. So far, she reprised her role from High School as Stage Manager for both the fall and winter shows, and for the spring show she landed one of the female leads.
Sarah sat in the dressing room in front of a mirror. She knew all her lines and she could remember all her cues, but she had this strange fear that she would forget her very last line and ruin the show. She thought back to when she was younger and would run The Labyrinth in her mind constantly. She always had trouble remembering the final, pivotal line. In truth, she had not thought about that particular problem since she had that dream when she was fourteen. The dream, on the other hand, she often recalled.
Sarah had been in a few relationships in the past nine years, though nothing particularly serious. For some reason she always compared them to Jareth, the Goblin King from her dream. Her best friend from High School, Agnes, told her once that it was like comparing new boyfriends to your first serious one. Except instead of a first boyfriend, it was an ideal boyfriend, a dream boyfriend. Agnes didn't know she was that close to, and in some ways that far from, the truth.
Her latest relationship had lasted just over two and a half years. Sarah had finally broken it off just before rehearsals for Midsummer began. When she began devoting her time to finishing her studies at the beginning of this school year, she realized that it had only lasted as long as it did because she had been trying to hang on, trying to be as committed as he wanted her to be for his sake alone. It was not that she did not care for him, but it had never been the way he thought it was. She had been holding on for two and a half years to the initial attraction that had faded away within a month and not to be replaced by something stronger and more lasting.
Amazingly, she had gone through the entire thing and come to that conclusion without once comparing him to Jareth. Though Sarah was not quite sure what that meant, she figured it did not really matter. She knew Agnes, who had accidentally minored in Psychology after taking all the required courses out of sheer curiosity, would say it meant that she was moving on to a more mature idea of what an 'ideal' partner would be. For some reason, that did not seem quite it, but she could not place the real reason behind it.
The unfortunate part of the whole situation was that Sammuel did not seem to understand that it was over. He kept sending her gifts: flowers, candy, singing telegrams, and the like, and all with notes of apology begging her to change her mind. Even though she sent everything back, with notes of her own explaining things, he did not understand that it was nothing he did or did not do and she was not coming back to him. The gifts had been coming every day at first, but as the six weeks of rehearsal came to a close the frequency had died down. Sarah figured he had finally gotten the point.
All thoughts such as these were farthest from her mind as she made minor adjustments to her crown of laurels, put the finishing touches on her makeup, and muttered her last lines over and over again under her breath. The other cast members were making small talk in an attempt at creating a calming atmosphere. They all had more stage experience and had dealt with the nerves of new actors before, but they could not understand how hers had risen to such a frenzied peak. She had been on stage before, and, though she had not had a lead role in many years, she was one of the most talented students in the department.
Everyone knew the story of one time when she had a bit role in a play consisting of no more than five minutes of stage time her Freshman year. For some reason, she received more applause than the leading actress. That actress, who was a Senior, had threatened to walk out of the production after opening night because of 'that presumptuous, under-talented child'. She only stayed because the director had threatened to replace her with Sarah, who would have played the role better had she gone on cold with the script in hand. There were other incidents over the years and Sarah handled them all with a calm collectedness to be envied. She was not one to be taken by nerves so no one knew how to calm her down.
Sarah took no notice of any of their actions; she was not even aware they were still in the room. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, picturing a ball of light at her toes that would rise and take all the tension away. She knew that, nervous though she was, she had to relax or she would ruin the show. Just as the ball reached her ankles, there was a knock at the door. Sarah looked up to find Agnes, who was the Stage Manager for the show, closing the door. "Shouldn't you be on headset and behind the box?" she asked, surprised.
Agnes grinned, "Probably, but this came for you and I thought it would be best if I delivered it myself." She held out a long, thin, snowy white box adorned with a deep red silk ribbon tied into a bow, the ends streaming down. The conversation in the dressing room slowed down as everyone tried to listen in without appearing interested.
"Oh, no," Sarah groaned. "I do not need this tonight. Take it back. When will he get it through that thick skull of his that - Ugh. Just take it back. And tell him tha-"
"It wasn't from Sammuel," Agnes interrupted, her grin getting wider.
Sarah blinked a few times. "What?"
"It wasn't from Sammuel," Agnes repeated. "I didn't think it was, since I saw him this morning looking properly chagrined. He said, by the way, that he hopes the show goes well but he isn't going to come see it because he realized he should probably be giving you space. However, knowing his history, I checked to see who it is from. I actually had to threaten the delivery man into telling me anything, he was most secretive, but he finally told me what the guy looked like. Whoever it was, he didn't look like Sammuel. It isn't from your father either; I don't recognize the description. I think you have a secret admirer. Now, stop gaping like a fish, take the damn box, read the card, and open it. As your best friend, I have the right to know what is inside!"
Sarah blinked again and stared at the box. She slowly reached for it then turned and, pushing her makeup kit aside, she set it on the stand. By this time, it was silent in the dressing room. Everyone was leaning over slightly and peering over to see what the box contained, though it was obviously a flower box. Sarah pulled the card out from beneath the bow. Her name was inscribed on the envelope in the most elegant handwriting she had ever seen.
"Who writes like this?" she wondered aloud as she opened the card. "Strong and powerful yet graceful and beautiful at the same time. It is like the writing exudes confidence and... huh, arrogance as much as an actual person."
"I never should have gotten you that book on analyzing handwriting for your birthday. Get on with it, already," Agnes poked Sarah's shoulder.
"Alright, alright. It reads: 'Tonight the stars in heaven shall seem dim compared to the light emanating from the star within you'. And it is signed 'Your most devoted admirer'. Wow." She tucked the card in the frame of her mirror then traced her name on the card. Something about it seemed so familiar, but she knew she had never seen this handwriting before.
"Sar-ah," Agnes whined impatiently, "open the box!"
"What?" Sarah looked up, then blushed slightly. "Oh, right." She pulled the streaming ends of the ribbon and the bow easily untied itself. The ribbon pooled into her lap as she lifted the lid off the box. Another note sat atop what was inside. "This one reads: 'Flowers grown from this earth are doomed to fade. Though this gift cannot compare, it shall forever stand testament to your lasting ethereal beauty'." She met Agnes' eye through the reflection. Her friend stood slack jawed and wide-eyed, but motioned her to take out the mysterious gift. Returning her attention to the box, Sarah gingerly peeled away layers of the most delicate white silk she had ever felt. When she finally arrived at what lay within, she gasped.
"Well?" pressed Agnes. "What is it?" Everyone else in the room, long since giving up the pretense of disinterest, seconded that question.
As Sarah picked it up, she became vaguely aware that all her nervousness was gone. Suddenly calm and relaxed, she carefully lifted the single long stemmed rose out of the box. As it parted from its silky cushion, the translucent colors seemed to fade ever so slightly. Then, as she held it up, the light caught every curve and every angle, from the veins of the leaves to the miniscule droplets of dew. Later, everyone present swore that the rose, crafted from the finest crystal any of them had ever seen, began to glow.
"Sarah," whispered Agnes with awe, "who is your admirer?"
"I'm not sure, Aggie," she replied in the same tone. "I'm really not sure."