Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
“Jesus, you won’t have to pay!” Arya waves her hand. I feel my ears pinking in shame. “But I do want you to be there. You’re one of our most dedicated volunteers. No one cares about those kids like you do, Winnie. And they always ask for you, specifically. Some of the parents are going to be there, and, well, I can’t afford not to have you there.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
It’ll be the first public event I attend since Paul passed away, but at least I have a good excuse. Charity. Plus . . . I kind of miss seeing people. Dancing. Puttin’ on a nice dress.
“Brilliant!” Arya claps just as the doors to the elevator slide open and I stumble outside. “I’ll tell Christian. He’s going to love seeing you again!”
I bet he would. Christian, her husband, approves of everything his wife loves, including her friends. I turn around, smiling weakly at her. “Well . . . see you later.”
“No way!” She shakes her head as the doors close. “Not later. Sooner. We’ll hang out soon. I’ll call you tonight. Hey, and Winnie?”
I turn to look at her.
“You’re loved. Remember that.”
Four weeks later
“Think of me sometimes?” I rest a hand over Rahim’s face, staring into his dark eyes.
He strokes my hand. I let out a soft gasp at his touch. A smile curls at his lips. “Of course I will. I’ll think of how you looked in sunlight—remember? In that wonderful dress . . .”
His lips draw closer. I feel their heat. The cinnamon gum on his breath. The afternoon whiskers adorning his cheeks. Can I do this? Can I really kiss another man? So soon?
With every inch he eats between us, my heart sinks lower. I feel it sliding down my body. Seeping to the floor, bleeding into the cracks of the worn-out wood. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this. His lips get closer, hotter.
Get me out of here.
I want to run. I can’t run. I’m paralyzed. Rahim’s lips nearly brush mine . . .
“Aaaaand, cut!” Lucas pops his gum, falling onto a burgundy seat in the first row of the theater.
“Saved by the bell,” Rahim whispers into my mouth, leaning down to kiss my cheek softly.
I jerk back like he just slapped me. He clasps my shoulders, righting me up.
Blush creeps over his tan cheeks. “Sorry, Winnie. I didn’t mean to make light of it. I mean . . . I’m not gonna kiss you during rehearsals if I can help it. I’m sure Lucas will understand.”
“Gosh, no! I was just . . . I blanked out.” Embarrassed I’ve been caught losing it over an onstage peck on the lips, I duck my head and pretend the last few minutes hadn’t happened.
“Okay, let’s run this scene one more time, this time with a smooch.” Lucas flips through the play’s pages, leaning sideways and saying something in his assistant’s ear.
“Hey, Winnie, remember the cookies you brought over on day one of the rehearsal?” Rahim asks.
“Memaw’s kitchen-sink cookies, yes.” I smile. Whenever I go anywhere new, I always bring a fresh batch of cookies. A Towles woman tradition to sweeten every relationship.
“There was a secret ingredient there, I’m sure of it.” Rahim snaps his fingers. “What was it? The texture was amazing.”
“Add another yolk and extra brown sugar for moisture.” I wink. “I’ll send you the recipe if you promise not to show anyone.”
“The women at my felting club are going to be disappointed, but I’m sure they’ll understand,” he jokes.
Calypso Hall is otherwise empty. There are more people backstage, but here it’s just Rahim, who plays Trigorin; Lucas; his assistant; and me. And—of course—the golden-arched stage, sea of claret seats, mezzanines, and box balconies as our audience. It’s an old theater. Small and cozy and in need of repair. But it still feels like home.
“Same scene. From the top.” Lucas taps his beret. “Actually, no. Give me the resolution scene again. We need to nail it down, and right now you’re not sparkling for me. Sparkle, unicorns! Sparkle.”
I’ve memorized The Seagull by heart. Each word is carved into my brain. I daydream Nina’s aspirations every day. Feel her desperation at night, when I toss and turn in bed. It’s liberating, slipping into a fictional character’s mind. Experiencing the world through the eyes of a nineteenth-century troubled Russian girl.
We do as we’re told, diving right into the resolution scene. Rahim fires his lines at rapid speed, flourishing under the harsh lights. His charisma is addictive. I follow his lead, coming alive on this square, magic stage that offers me complete freedom to be someone else. Even though we’re at the changes, score, and blocking part of the rehearsals, I already feel like her. Like this naive, superficial girl who thinks she is in love with a novelist. I push at Rahim’s chest, fling my hands in the air, laugh like a maniac, and whirl around like a storm.