How Do I Love Thee?

VI. Shakespeare Theatre

VI. Shakespeare Theatre

THE THEATRE WAS built of timbre and closely resembled the Elizabethan theatre. The raised stage was located at the centre, surrounded by a yard where spectators with Seating B tickets stood. Then it had upper and middle galleries that extended in a semi-circle where spectators who bought Seating A tickets sat to watch. It had a trapdoor on stage and a balcony above reserved for musicians. There were two entrances on each side behind the pillars and another in the middle. Oil lanterns hung from the beams and were lighted in the evenings regardless if there was a performance or not.

I was pacing backstage while I listened to Dee recite Iras' lines. A staff member gave us selected lines from Antony and Cleopatra. The three-page paper contained a line to a stanza-length dialogues. I sat on the bench with the eight others who were waiting. I bent forwards, untied my shoelaces and knotted them again.

“Try taking slow deep breaths if you’re nervous,” someone said as he sat in the space beside me. “It helps increase the supply of oxygen to your brain. . .” His voice faltered when I straightened up and our eyes met. I also swallowed back the ‘thank you’ I was about to utter.

The air of silence that followed was awkward. I was looking towards the stage, behind the crimson curtain where I could sometimes see Dee when she was moving. Meteorite was looking towards the backdoor, squeezing the same duck toy that most likely had its squeaker punctured because it was not making any sound.

I took three slow deep breaths as he advised, then bravely turned to him and said quickly, “I’m sorry for last time if my manners offended you and I’m sorry I’ve been calling you ignoramus behind your back.”

He stopped squeezing the duck. He gave me a brief look before tilting his head down to stare at the duck. “I’m sorry too. I denied your voice despite knowing you probably prepared your answers all night. To add to that, I referred to your portfolio as nitwitted. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re even now.” The air of silence that followed again was unbearable that I just had to break it. “You’re everywhere. Rachelle said that you’re a Shakespearean but I still didn’t expect you to volunteer here. I know that third year seniors have a lot on their plate. My sister even quit all her clubs because she didn't have time to study for the national exams while also preparing for college.”

“I will manage.” He smiled. “I've waited years and now the theatre’s finally offering roles. It’s not paid work, but this is my last year and it’s my last opportunity to work with them before I leave for university. It's my goal to pursue a job in the theatre industry.”

“You should still get enough sleep,” I said. But I said it in a murmur so he did not hear it.

I shifted in my seat while I thought about his words. Once I’m in my last year of high school, would what I want to do with my life in the near future become clearer? Writing news articles was the only thing I knew how to do. Writing articles, reading plays, and performing dramas were the only things I knew I was fond of doing. Unlike Bennie who knew since her second year in junior high that she wanted to be a doctor one day and Dee who knew since elementary that she wanted to be a writer, I had no clear direction of what I wanted to be, what to study after high school or what job to take.

“Your writings are wonderful,” Meteorite went on. “How you write your sports articles is wonderful, to be more precise. I was dubious a while ago because I didn’t get to learn the names of the winners until Rachelle told me, but your article pleased me the most.”

I felt embarrassed by the compliment. He was the third person to appreciate my sports writing. Miss Janet was the first and Luca was the second. I had only ever been writing news, after all.

My name resonated across the walls of the room. Dee strode out of the curtain, her legs nearly giving out as she found her way towards us. Meteorite told me to break a leg as I got up and Dee mouthed good luck to me as we passed each other.

In the yard, there were two men and two women sitting in a horizontal line on two tables. They introduced themselves as the director, producer, and actors playing Cleoptra and Antony. They confirmed my age and asked why I wanted to volunteer when the play they were set to perform for the next ten months was Antony and Cleopatra and not Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet. The characters are mostly in their twenties and majority of them are way more older.

“This to me is acting,” I answered as calmly as I could. “I am my age backstage, but I am the character’s age on stage. We are two different people. I think makeup will do the trick if it's my face. About my line delivery, I will practice hard to project a mature voice.”

They bobbed their heads. Then they asked me to try performing Alexas then immediately switch to Octavia. Peeking at the second page from time to time, I delivered Alexas’ lines from Scene two of Act one with small hints of annoyance and Octavia’s with coldness. Terese, the director, suggested that I try Octavia’s lines again and portray a more prim and proper Octavia but also an Octavia who is strong.

My confidence breaking like a mirror, the request made me freeze. How is it possible to show a strong Octavia when she was married off to Antony as a peace and alliance tool and she could not do anything about it? In the few seconds they gave me, I forced myself to remember Octavia’s story. Then I tried as the director recommended. While my eyes were tearful, I restrained myself from weeping when I had to leave my brother. I displayed no signs of devastation or of feeling wronged when my brother informed me that my husband tricked me and had fled back to Cleopatra’s arms. 

After I was done, Terese leaned forwards and asked me why my Alexas seemed annoyed.

“I felt he was when reading his lines and interactions with the other characters,” I said. “He had been the subject of Iras and Charmians’ jokes so it would stun me if he was not bothered in the slightest at all.”

Terese and Yasmin, the actor playing Cleopatra, bent their heads towards each other and softly talked. After some time, they looked at me again and Yasmin asked me to deliver Charmian’s lines.

My turn on stage was over after I played Charmian, First Guard, and Second Guard. Another volunteer applicant walked in through the curtain as I wheeled to leave. I let out an audible breath of relief as soon as I was backstage. Dee straightaway asked how it went. 

“I think I’ll get Octavia’s role,” I said. “How about you?”

“I have good thoughts on Iras.” She smiled. “They mostly asked me about her.”

We walked over to Meteorite and said our good luck and that we were leaving first. It wasn’t unexpected that Dee also talked to him. As we exited through the backdoor, she shared that she was actually surprised that Meteorite accepted her apology.

“He didn’t look like he would,” she mumbled. Jumping to another topic, her voice louder and jollier, she held my wrist to make me look at her. “Did you see him though?”

“Who?”

“The sports editor. You’ll be working with him directly soon. You’re lucky.”

“I saw him the day we were interviewed. But what about it?”

She shook my hand. “What ‘what about it?’ Aren’t you delighted that there's finally a cute boy in our school?”

“We said that when we first saw Meteorite.”

“I said I refuse to etch that in my memo. . .” She loosened her fingers. “That’s the past. The present is most important, okay?”

We drew our jackets tighter around ourselves as we resumed walking. The evening was inclement and cold wind would sporadically pick up.

Was I dwelling too much in the past?