Little Do We Know(48)

His question surprised me. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Nope. She refuses to.”

If he didn’t know why we were fighting, that meant she hadn’t told him everything that had happened before the fight. And if she hadn’t told him, I certainly wasn’t about to.

“You should ask Emory.” I slid forward onto the edge of the couch cushion and turned to face him. “You should make her tell you. It’s really important that she does.”

He looked completely confused. “Why?”

“Ask her,” I said, and I left it at that.





“Sorry. What’s my line again?”

Charlotte lifted her copy of Our Town and read, “I can’t go on—”

“Got it.” I waved my hand in her direction, cutting her off. And then I straightened my spine, took a deep breath, and let my eyes fall shut, slowly easing myself back into the character of Emily Webb and her town, Grover’s Corners.

I visualized the town. Main Street. The drugstore. The stable and the white fence that surrounded my house. The graveyard.

I opened my eyes and locked them on Tyler. “I can’t go on!” I yelled. “It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another!” I covered my face and made a sobbing sound, but I knew I didn’t sound authentic. Forgetting that line had pulled me out of the moment.

I ran over to Charlotte with panic in my voice and delivered my lines. “I didn’t realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back—up the hill—to my grave.” I stepped forward to the mark. “But first: Wait. One more look.”

Everything was silent. I glanced to my left, and then my right. I settled my gaze on the audience and said Emily Webb’s words with all the passion I could muster.

“Good-bye. Good-bye, world. Good-bye, Grover’s Corners…Mama and Papa.” I gazed around the theater again. “Good-bye to clocks ticking. And Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths. And sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.”

Then I walked to my next stage mark. I looked up at Charlotte. “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it, every, every minute?”

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “The saints and poets, maybe. They do some.”

It was silent again as I took one final look around, pressing my lips together as I slowly scanned the stage and the auditorium. “I’m…” The line was gone. “I’m…”

“Ready to go back,” Charlotte whispered.

“I’m ready to go back,” I said.

“Okay, stop there,” Ms. Martin called out from the front row. The cast let out a collective sigh, and I felt my shoulders relax. Everyone shuffled around as she walked up the steps onto the stage. “Emory, you’ve got to get those lines down.”

“I know,” I said. “Sorry. I’m close. I’ll get it down.”

“This final scene is so important.” She was looking at me, but speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is Emily Webb’s famous good-bye monologue. It’s a big deal. Every word needs to ring true. Every pause needs to make your audience lean in with open ears and wide eyes, waiting for you to speak again. The entire play hinges on Emily’s final words.”

“No pressure,” Charlotte said as she elbowed me.

Ms. Martin looked at Charlotte. “It is a lot of pressure. Listen, Our Town is about the incredible miracle and beauty of life, even the worst moments of it. Emily gets a second chance to see the world, and she appreciates it with fresh eyes and a new perspective. In this scene, she’s trying to pass information along to you, to the audience, telling you to wake up every day and take in the world around you as if you’ll never see it again.”

Ms. Martin snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.” She turned to address the cast again. “In this scene, Emily Webb says good-bye to clocks and sunflowers and hot baths. What do you think? Would those be the things you’d choose?”

Tyler shrugged. Charlotte shook her head. Melanie said, “The coffee part was pretty good,” and everyone laughed.

“This play is ours. Our town. Seniors, raise your hands.”

Nine of us put our hands in the air.

“Emory might have these lines, but she’s saying them for all of you. This is your good-bye to this stage. To this school. To this huge chapter in your lives.” She paced back and forth across the stage. “Let’s make the things Emily Webb says good-bye to uniquely ours, too.”

Ms. Martin walked over to a table off to the side of the stage and grabbed a stack of papers. “Think about three things that are important to you. Be specific, like Emily is. Of course, you’d miss your families and friends, but I’m looking for more than that. What would you miss about them? Picture your bedrooms, this campus, your house, your world—think about the little things you would miss here. If you knew you were leaving this earth forever, what would you want to say good-bye to?”

She started ripping up pieces of paper and passing them out to all of us. “Find a spot of your own on the stage and sit down. Write.”

Charlotte, Tyler, and I clustered into a circle and everyone else did the same, gathering in various spots, dotting the black-painted stage.