The Connoisseur

Chapter 29 - Setting the Stage

“Sophe.  Sophe?”

Sophia snapped out of it.  She was stood in the theatre, a paintbrush in one hand.  Roz was staring at her.

“You okay?” said her friend.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Sophia.  “Just distracted.  Work, I suppose.”

“Sure.  Pass me the roller, would you?”

It was four days, or fifty-one years, since Sophia had comforted Alexander in the hotel room in Monaco.  The student production of Death of a Salesman opened in a week and the sets needed painting.  It was simple work, just brown lines with a bit of detail to resemble a garden fence.  A few others around them were painting an old American mailbox and other bits and pieces.

“Thank God they went minimalist with this one,” Roz said, slapping on the paint.  “I thought Martin was going to ask us to paint some masterpiece.”

“Yeah.”

“He got some friends from the art college to do sets last time he directed, do you remember?  They were so slimy.  I spoke with one of them afterwards, she treated it like some amazing gallery commission.”

“Hm.”

“She couldn’t have cared less about what the play actually needed.  All about them.  This is so much better.  It’s a complement to the words, not a work of art in itself.  Just right, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.”

Sophia could see in the corner of her eye that Roz was staring at her.  She tried to busy herself with the paintbrush.

“What’s so distracting about work, then?” said Roz at length, “Apart from there being lots of it and the fact that your career’s riding on it.”

“Thanks, Roz,” said Sophia, managing a smile.

“Don’t mention it.  Seriously, though.  How’s it all going?”

“Not so bad.”

Sophia stared at the black line she had etched on the set to indicate each fencepost.  Roz was still staring.  She realised that she’d have to say something else to stave her off.

“It’s just that it’s all building up,” she said, reaching for the usual ‘overworked student’ material.  “Lots of essays for the end of term, exams after Easter.  The usual.”

She aimed a satisfied smile at Roz.  It seemed to do the trick as her friend smiled back and returned to her painting.  Sophia wondered if Roz’s smile was the same as her own: all on the surface.

The work was building up, true, but she knew it would.  She’d dealt with a similar amount before, some of it arguably more challenging.  The problem was that she hadn’t done any for days.  Her note-taking and word count had been slowly dwindling for weeks, but she hadn’t paid much attention.  It was something she had always planned on turning around.  Just a few more trips with him, a bit more of a holiday, then she’d get back to it.

Since Monaco, however, she’d done nothing.  She couldn’t concentrate on it.  He filled all her thoughts, and for all the beauty and sadness of that evening, she hated that.  She wished the thought of him would go away, just for a while.

A loud, high-pitched giggle distracted her.  Turning, she saw Julie cosying up with her new boyfriend, Christian, at the back of the theatre.  They were all over one another.

“Something’s funny,” she said, sharing a conspiratorial look with Roz. 

“Everything’s funny at the stage they’re at,” replied her friend.