“I’m sure you didn’t.”
“I did. After we broke up, I fell right back into old patterns.”
I knew exactly what she meant. In the weeks directly following my breakup with Sam, all my old habits came simmering back to the surface. It took at least a bottle of wine a night for me to get to sleep, sometimes more. I was dragging into work, barely making it through the day. It got so bad, Stephen finally pulled me into his office, confronting me about my performance and reminding me of how forgiving he’d been about it in the past. He told me no matter how much he valued my contributions, for my own good, he couldn’t overlook my behavior much longer. The truth is, Stephen didn’t just support my decision to get away, he practically demanded it.
“I know what you mean,” I said.
“Hollywood’s a small town, and I’ll bet he’s heard all about my exploits by now. It’s partially why I came here. I figured 3,000 miles was the right amount of distance to put between me and the rumor mill.”
Emmy checked her watch and pulled her feet out of the pool. “I should go. I’m going to be late for tantric yoga. What are you up to the rest of the afternoon?”
“My ankle feels a lot better, but just to be safe, I don’t think I should Downward Dog for another day or two. I might go into town. I heard there are some cute shops.”
“A little retail therapy never hurt anyone. You know what they say, life may not be perfect, but your outfit can be.”
Topsail Beach was the quintessential seaside town, replete with gazebos, bands playing concerts on the village green, a selection of seafood and crab restaurants, and quaint shops selling things like hand-painted wind chimes and birdhouses. I wandered in and out of the stores, buying small trinkets and knickknacks to bring home. In one shop called Resting Beach Face, I found a sweet, hand-knit blue teddy bear for Alec and a Mallorca seashell bracelet I knew Naomi would love.
I turned down the main street and spotted a store at the end of the thoroughfare with a huge skull and crossbones splashed across the front awning. I followed the curve of the sidewalk to the front door of the shop and pushed my way inside.
“Welcome to Captain Ed’s Pirate Shop,” a woman who looked like she walked straight off the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World said from behind an old-fashioned gold-plated cash register. “The eye patches, hooks, and plastic swords are all fifty percent off.”
“Thanks, I’m just looking around.”
“I’ll be right here if you need any help,” she said cheerfully.
I carefully made my way through a display of treasure chests and to the back of the store, which had a small section of books and post cards. I climbed up the small wooden ladder and read down the list of titles, stopping at the last one, The Life and Times of Blackbeard, the Pirate King. I pried the biography out from between two other books and ran my hand over the smooth leather cover with gold-embossed letters. Turning the book over, I read the synopsis.
Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, was one of the most notorious pirates ever to plague the Atlantic coast. He was also one of the most colorful pirates of all time, becoming the model for countless blood-and-thunder tales of sea rovers. His daring exploits, personal courage, terrifying appearance, and fourteen wives made him a legend in his own lifetime.
I tucked the large book under my arm and continued browsing the shop. In the far back corner was a large stack of reproduced treasure maps, treated to look older than they were. I took one off the pile and carried my two items back to the front register, where the salesgirl rang up my purchases.
“Do you need gift wrap?” she asked.
“Just the book, thank you.”
She tore a large sheet of brown paper off a large spool. “You can choose a card from that pile,” she said, pointing to a small stack.
I sifted through the cards, laughing at just how many pirate puns someone had managed to come up with. My favorite in the bunch was, Arrrrgh Means ‘I Love You’ in Pirate. I looked up from the stack. “Do you have any Thank You notes?”
She reached behind her and passed me a blank white card.
I tapped my fingers on the counter and scribbled out, “Todd, thank you for saving my life,” with my other hand. Jeez, that sounded just a tad melodramatic. I ripped up the card, asked for a new one, and scribbled out, “Todd, you were my hero yesterday, thank you.” Now that was way too fangirl and pathetic. I tore the card in two.
“Sorry, can I have one more?” I asked sweetly.
The once-chipper salesgirl sighed deeply and slid the entire stack of cards over to me. This time, I scribbled out a simple,
Todd,
Thank You.
-Joanna Kitt.
I passed the card to the salesgirl, so she could attach it directly onto the package.
“What about the map? Do you need that wrapped too?” she asked.
“No, thanks, the map is for me.”
“Treasure hunter?”
I smiled. “Maybe? We’ll see.”
Chapter Nineteen
I spent another couple of hours meandering around the town of Topsail Beach, wandering in and out of the charming stores and café. At the far side of the town I came across an old whitewashed church that had been converted into the Topsail Little Theater. Located in a beautiful wooded setting directly behind the church was the Canterbury Amphitheater, the Topsail Little Theater’s summer venue for outdoor Shakespeare productions. Hanging on the large oak front doors were posters advertising their summer season and notices regarding upcoming auditions. The next show they were casting was William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.
I thought back to my last year at NYU. One of my professors had been directing a reimagined staging of Twelfth Night at the Williamstown Theater Festival. Every summer, well-established actors and actresses in the league of Gwyneth Paltrow and Bradley Cooper descended on the small campus of Williams College in Williamstown, Massachusetts to sharpen their acting skills by performing in classic and brand-new theater productions. It was considered the place to be for any actor truly interested in working on and getting recognized for the essentials of their craft.
One day after my contemporary scene study class, my professor asked if I could stay behind so he could talk to me. He asked if I’d consider auditioning for the role of Viola in his Williamstown Twelfth Night production. If cast, I’d spend most of the summer in the Berkshires rehearsing for the August three-week run.
When I got home, I told Sam about the audition, and he couldn’t have been more supportive. He ran lines with me, watched every movie version of the play we could find, even suffering through the 2006 contemporary take on Twelfth Night, the Amanda Bynes version, She’s the Man. I gave up drinking and partying completely, putting every ounce of energy and effort into getting the role.
After a grueling audition process, I was cast as the understudy for the part of Viola. While I knew it was unlikely I’d ever actually go on in the role, just the experience of getting to cover a well-established actress and learn from a cast of celebrated actors and directors was more than I could’ve ever dreamed of as a recent graduate of theater school.
Sam didn’t feel quite the same way. He didn’t outright tell me not to do the show, but because of his hyper-competitive nature, he had a hard time hiding his disappointment in me coming in second place. As a “consolation,” he surprised me with a three-week trip to the Greek Isles in August, making it virtually impossible for me to accept the part in Twelfth Night.