The Playing Fields

Chapter 38

THE PLAY

Friday morning began with bright sunny skies, moderate winds and warm temperatures. Nigel left right after a full breakfast, for the theatre, walking briskly, sniffing in the clean, fresh air and humming happily to himself. The last day, he thought, last chance to pull everything together for tomorrow's opening night. Life was wonderful! He waved unabashed to the fist-pumping woman whose lawn he crossed, smiling cheerfully and doing a small dance step onto the sidewalk. If mom and dad could see me now! As he rounded the corner onto Main Street, Susan popped out of the post office door, spotting him and rushing over.

"Nigel! Hi!"

"Good morning, Susan." Even this unexpected encounter couldn't dampen his high spirits.

"I'm on my way to the management office to meet with Tiffany and the accountant. They're tallying the ticket receipts, isn't it exciting!" She linked her arm through his and tugged with bubbly enthusiasm as they walked along.

"Good, good. Mustn't let me keep you then." He stopped on purpose, hoping she would release him and be on her way.

"Oh Nigel, it's all just so thrilling!" He staggered back as she flung her arms about his neck and planted a tremendous kiss on his mouth.

"Su- jeez! There're people around..." He lifted her arms off his neck and stared around, turning abruptly when she waved at someone over his shoulder.

Darlene was standing in the window of Fawn Do watching the scene with a disappointed smile and melancholy eyes. He crumpled inside, matching her obvious misery with his own.

"I'll uh see you later, Susan, I want to speak to Darlene for a minute."

"Sure, Nigel." She squealed delightedly, giving another wave to Darlene, and skipping off down the street.

Nigel looked back at the window, beckoning her outside and blowing out a ton of air as waited anxiously.

"Hello Nigel." Her voice was soft and devoid of interest.

"Darlene, uhm, I meant to call..." He looked down the street after Susan." She really is demonstrative, isn't she." His question hung in the warm air, waiting to park. "Listen Darlene, I'm really sorry I haven't called- the play and all- well, you already know, you're part of it too, aren't you. What I mean is- I-"

"Nigel," she held up a pale palm stop sign. "Please don't go into a lot of remorseful explanations. Ya'll don't owe me anything."

"No, Darlene, wait a minute-"

"Nigel please..." She folded her arms and looked past him at nothing. "The other night was- was nice... but it didn't mean anything - I mean, nothing permanent - what happened, happened. It's over."

"Over?"

She sighed and lowered her head, scraping one foot back and forth. "Look Nigel, I like ya'll and everything, but as a friend - y'understand - just a friend. I hope ya'll can come around to feeling the same way about me."

He blinked, lost for words. Her parting smile, as she closed the shop door, left him feeling hollow and not a little ashamed. She was right. No one could know better than Darlene, just how futile their relationship would be. He turned sadly, taking in the postcard vision of the small town, throbbing with eager tourists, and suddenly, the sun wasn't as bright, the winds not as moderate, and the temperature not as warm.

*****

"I can't believe it! I can't believe it!" Susan bounced excitedly in front of the desk in the theatre's management office. "A sellout for opening night! Eeeeeew!"

Tiffany shrugged at the startled accountant who pushed his chair back abruptly, staring with fright at Susan's wild dance.

"Don't worry Carl, she's harmless. That 'eeeeew' business scared us all at first."

He looked over the top of his rectangular glasses and pulled his chair back to the desk. "There it is." He continued from where he'd been interrupted. "Four hundred seats at ten dollars a seat, plus four private boxes for four, at sixty dollars each... four thousand, two hundred and forty dollars." He dabbed his pen on the tip of his tongue and initialed the form accompanying the receipts.

"That's great, Carl. Would you see that the money gets to Cal at the bank please. He's looking after the account for us, paying the bills etcetera - including yours."

"My pleasure Mrs. Osborne, my pleasure."

"I just can't wait to tell Nigel." Susan waltzed around the office, swinging her arms high and wide. "He'll be just so thrilled."

"If there's any left."

"Huh?" she stuttered to a stop.

"Thrill. If there's any thrill left. Christ Susan, you've used enough for all of us."

"Oh! Ooooh, hah hah hah, I know, I just can't help it." She grabbed her purse and dashed from the office, leaving Tiffany to lean tiredly on the desk, bobbing her head slowly with exhausted relief.

Nigel moped about the set in a sour mood. The excitement he experienced upon waking, eagerly looking forward to the last day of preparation, had become as dull as the look on Darlene's face, outside the store. He puttered around back stage, checking the sound system, curtain sequences and lighting placement, with a hapless distraction. Everet Polasky arrived bright eyed and bushy tailed, pushing Nigel's mood to a new low, forcing him to revisit each of Everet's annoying concerns for the one-hundredth time.

"And I noticed number six blue spot is out," Everet said, setting his lunchbox next to his tiny desk and climbing onto his stool. "Prob'ly should check the fuse box in the control room."

"I'll do that now." Nigel said, gladly grasping the opportunity to take his leave. He plodded across the stage and down the steps into the auditorium, trailing his fingers over the seat backs as he shuffled up the aisle. The light in the control room was a paltry sixty-watt bulb, mounted high on the wall behind a wire screen, and Nigel paused in the doorway, squinting around to get his bearings.

He was surprised to see a huge sixteen-millimeter projector anchored in the middle of the room, large film cans stacked and scattered about in front of it, against the wall. He hadn't realized that the playhouse was also a movie theatre, and he moved closer to examine the machine. The movie theatre theory broke down when he wiped his fingers through, what must have been, years of dust and grime on the frame and the lens. Cartons of spare parts lined the back wall, their contents marked with a thick scrawl of magic marker that had faded under the dust. Nigel couldn't believe that such a beautiful theatre could have a control room in such disgraceful condition. He shook his head and looked about for the fuse box. Eye level, beneath the puny light, he saw the box, a large red tag dangling limply from the latch by a twisted string. Stepping around the operator's stool, he crossed to the box and pulled the latch open.

"Charming." He muttered disgustedly. The curled brittle paper with the fuse codes was all brown and faded-the writing illegible.

"Nigel, here you are." He spun around, startled, sinking inside as Susan, beaming almost obscenely, high-heeled toward him, her short skirt molding against muscled thighs. "Everet said you were up here, I've got super news. The opening has been sold out!" The momentum carried her right up to him and he stepped back, whacking his head on the sharp edge of the fuse panel.