What's Mine and Yours(98)

“Well, I know I’m not your mother, but you can count on me,” she said.

“Linette, I’ll be fine. Just watch the road.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been driving in this city since before you were born. I could get us there with my eyes closed. Now did you hear me? I said, I’ll be there. Front row. Even if I won’t understand a word—”

A tear loosened itself from Gee before he could stop. He was laughing. He felt lighter, although not completely. The weight Jade had put on him was still there. If he could forget her, he would. If he could erase her, he would.

“So what’s this play about anyway?” Linette said. “Explain it to me now so I can follow along.”

She listened, pinching her eyes to mime concentration. She looked silly and lovely, all her uncombed hair curling around her ears. He wished he could take a picture of her, the way she was right then.

He told her about Claudio being hauled to jail, how he meant well but wound up in trouble all the same. He had a big speech, a few other lines here and there, but besides that, all he did was pace in his cage, fight off despair while he waited to be released.

“Well, that’s more than it sounds like,” Linette said. “That’s all I’ve been doing for going on fifteen years.”



When Gee walked into the rehearsal, there was a riotous round of applause: whistles and hoots and stomping feet. He felt himself burn under the attention, but it felt good to see the faces of his friends cheering for him: Adira, Shawn, Rosa, the whole cast, except for Beckett, who wasn’t there. Mr. Riley clapped his hands on Gee’s shoulders, pulled him into their circle. Noelle stood before the stage in an oversized flannel shirt and leggings, her usual boots. Her face was pink and she was clapping fiercely, beaming at him. Gee could sense his morning, all those bad feelings, vaporize around him. He went and stood beside Noelle, and she wrapped an arm around him. Gee felt the ugly parts of him float away.

Eventually, Mr. Riley called them to business, and they all settled down. They would run the play from the top without stopping, but before that, he wanted to talk through the ending, the slurry of betrothals—Juliet to Claudio, the duke to Isabella, Mariana to Angelo. He explained there were many ways they could play the final scene. They could try to make it simple and joyous, but any audience member who was paying attention would see the cracks—all the marriages weren’t meant to be equal. But to play it all as uneasy, absurd was a risk—the audience could think they’d botched the play. The audience would be quicker to assume the cast had gotten the ending wrong and acted it badly than to assume Shakespeare had written it to feel strange. Mr. Riley decided to let them vote on how they wanted it all to end.

Noelle was the first to speak up—let it be strange. The audience was bound to be confused anyway, and they shouldn’t try to make it all so neat. Nothing in life was like that, anyway, even the good parts.

Adira and Rosa favored a festive end, and they said so. The cast was split down the middle.

Mr. Riley asked Gee to break the stalemate, and this time he didn’t hate Mr. Riley for putting him on the spot. He knew exactly what he wanted to say.

“Let’s do it like Noelle said,” he answered. “Let’s do it her way.”

And so Gee had the final word, and they ran the play from the top.



After, the theater emptied out, and Noelle stayed behind to put away the props. Gee offered to help her, and Mr. Riley left them alone. He was being too lax, they knew, but neither of them protested. He told them to turn off the lights before they left.

They were hanging costumes back on a rack when Noelle touched his forehead, the cut over his eye, smeared in ointment.

“Does it hurt?”

Besides the cut, he still had a bruise on his cheek, his finger set in a splint, an achy tailbone.

“It’s no big deal.”

“Stop that,” Noelle said. “You know it is.”

“My mother wanted me to quit.”

“So why’d you come back?”

“You know why,” Gee said, and Noelle’s cheeks turned a beautiful peach color.

“When’d you get so bold, Gee?” she asked, and he shrugged, his nerve running out on him.

“Come here,” she said, and tugged him offstage into the empty rows of chairs. She wanted to ask him something. They sat beside each other as she fished in her book bag. She withdrew the program, simple black text on flimsy blue-green paper.

She pointed to his name, listed near the top, across from the role of Claudio. “Explain it to me,” she said.

“Well, my father is the one who started calling me Gee. His last name was Gilbert, and I was Little Gee. It’s the only thing I ever remember anyone calling me. But I wanted to use my real name in the program.”

“How come?”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Noelle nodded solemnly. “Well, I like it. Nelson James Gilbert.”

“Just Nelson is fine.”

Noelle smiled at him, the program clutched in her hands. She looked down, almost bashfully. For once, she was waiting. Gee had been sure she would be the one to move first. After all, she was the one with experience, and he didn’t know what he was doing. Still, he lunged forward and kissed her. She kissed him back. He closed his eyes, gave himself over to feeling.