Page 11 of The Lookback
“What does that mean?”
“You know his mother loves plays, so when I bumped into them at Steinaker’s Market, I talked to him about how amazing it was that Manila was finally catching up to Broadway, and oh, boy. She was so excited that he couldn’t say no to the auditions.”
“I know Jed. He could still have said no.”
Tommy smirks and drops his voice again. “Not when she said that she was so disappointed whenClydedidn’t get a role inSeven Brides for Seven Brothers, and that was withsevenguy roles.”
“But they all had to sing, and Clyde can’t sing at all.”
“You’re missing the point,” Tommy says.
I’m not, though. He brilliantly used Clyde’s failure and his mother’s encouragement to goad Jed into auditioning, and then he somehow convinced him to take a role that forces him to interact with me weekly. He may not have granted my impossible wish yet, but he’s gotten closer than I thought possible. “Fine.”
“Fine. . .as in you’ll do it?” His eyes light up, his longish hair falling over his brow again. He sweeps it back over the top of his head in a familiar gesture. “Say yes.”
I nod slowly. “I guess so.”
He pumps his fist. “Yes. This play is going to be amazing.”
I’m afraid he may be dead wrong about that, but it might do something more lasting than any regular play could boast. It might fix things between me and Jed. I’m sure that if he would just start talking to me again, we could at least go back to being friends.
But when rehearsals start, Jed isn’t there. When Mrs. Rasmussen starts the practice, pointing at me to start reading through the script, I hiss at Tommy. “Where is he?”
Mrs. Rasmussen shoos Tommy away. “You’re not in this scene.” I’m stuck practicing the opening act with Tommy and the other members of the cast, and Jed’s nowhere to be found.
“What was that?” I finally ask, after practice is over. “You said?—”
Tommy grabs my bag and carries it outside. He always does things like that. He’s basically taken over doing all the things Jed used to do. “Jed’s going to be here every Thursday. It’s the only day he doesn’t have football or basketball practice.”
“But—”
“Look, I know you took this to get Jed to forgive you, but he’s an understudy and you still have to do the whole play or it won’t work,” he says. “It’s not like this whole thing’s one big sham, and he’s the only one not in on it.”
I grudgingly admit that he’s right. It doesn’t make the play rehearsals any less onerous. But when Thursday comes around, Jed’s there, as promised, and we work on theGetting to Know Yousong almost the entire time. It’s a little frustrating learning dance steps and singing, but Jed’s watching, and little kids in the play are cute.
It could be worse. Way worse.
I didn’t really want to do this play, but some of the kids actually crack me up. There’s this one, the little girl who’s playing Princess Yink, King Mongkut’s most beloved daughter, who is absolutely adorable. Her name’s Dolores Gibbens, and she’s obsessed with plants, and she always carries around a little crocheted kitten. At first Mrs. Rasmussen tried to take it away, but she wouldn’t practice without it, so she just let it go. I’m not sure whether they had kittens in Siam, but I doubt the audience will know either.
When we finally finish the song and begin to work on the scene where Mrs. Leonowens, which is me, tells the King that she gave his son, the prince, the bookUncle Tom’s Cabin, and that she’s opposed to slavery, Jed’s forced to stand up and talk to me. It’s written right there in the script.
“Why aren’t you looking at her?” Dolores asks. “Shouldn’t you be looking at her?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Rasmussen drops her hands on her hips. “I heard that you two had a falling out. Are you going to be capable of doing this play, Mister Brooks? Or do I need to cast another, more cooperative understudy? Becauseyouare replaceable, but she is not.” She arches one eye and compresses her lips.
Jed looks at his feet, still not willing to meet my eye.
“Your mother was just asking me today how the play was going.” Mrs. Rasmussen taps the table in front of her with her fingers. “In fact, she told me that her parents are coming to watch on the off chance you get to perform.” She arches that eyebrow again. “But I can tell her, when next I see her, that you’re just not able to bring yourself to?—”
“No.” Jed straightens. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”
“Well, you’ll have to turn toward Mrs. Leonowens, channel your most regal and arrogant thoughts, and speak clearly. Try to remind yourself that this is not Amanda Saddler, it’s Mrs. Anna Leonowens. Do you think you can do that?” Mrs. Rasmussen sounds like she has her doubts.
“It’s fine,” Jed says. “I’ll do it.”
And when we resume, he does. He looks right at me and says, “Shall Mister Lincoln be winning this war he’s fighting at present?” He lifts both eyebrows.
“No one knows, really,” I say, staring right back at him.
