Is that how Cal felt too? Like he was fulfilling the dream he’d had back then?
I looked over at Harriet, wondering if we all shared this same sense of coming home.
But she kept avoiding my eye.
All those vows I’d made to myself about checking in on Harriet had been quickly forgotten. Instead, I’d been focused on myself. On Cal. On whatever the fuck it was that was going on between us.
I was equally—if not more—responsible for this distance. I’d promised to be a better friend and I had done absolutely nothing to fix a problem that was only getting worse.
“It feels tiny,” I said.
Nothing like resorting to small talk with your best friend of over twenty years as the two of you inch closer to your lifelong dream together.
“Yes,” Harriet said. “But we are also bigger.”
In my memory the stage, the audience, the entire place, had seemed enormous. Backstage had seemed like a maze of thousands of potential paths with endless dressing rooms and hallways full of supplies.
Now it felt normal-sized, maybe even a little cramped, as Harriet and I headed backstage and into the belly of the theatre, down a long hallway where I found my name on a door.
I stopped a few feet into my dressing room.
“Oh,” I said.
“This is nice,” Harriet said, coming in behind me.
Not seeing that I’d stopped, she bumped up against me.
“Let’s go look at the rest of the theatre,” I said.
But she was already inside.
“Oh,” Harriet said.
Sitting on the vanity were Red Vines and a bowl of Swedish Fish. The top of the licorice tub had been left slightly askew.
We both stood there for a moment.
“Well,” Harriet said, “he always did have a good memory.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.
“It’s just a nice gesture,” I said. “I bet there’s something for everyone in their dressing room. I bet there’s something for you…somewhere….”
Harriet gave me a look.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I said.
The look didn’t improve.
“What’s going on here?” Cal asked. “Did someone shove a pony in there or something?”
He had appeared in the hallway, his head leaning into the dressing room.
“We were just admiring the amenities,” I said.
I waved a hand toward the vanity.
“Ah,” Cal said. “Well. Whatever my leading lady wants…”
Harriet coughed.
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s very thoughtful.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
We all just stood there for a moment. To give myself something to do, I reached over and took a Swedish Fish.
“It’s perfect,” I said. And it was.
He did have a good memory.
“I manhandled each fish just to be sure,” he said.
I paused with it halfway to my mouth.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t have cooties.”
We stared at each other. I ate the Swedish Fish. Then he left.
“Shit,” Harriet said once he was gone.
“Shh,” I said.
I knew exactly what was going through her head.
“Kathleen”—her look was frantic—“you can’t sleep with him.”
Fucking Cal. What had he been thinking?
“Harriet!” I pulled the dressing room door closed. “Can you not say that in a place known for thin walls and gossipy ears?”
News never traveled faster than backstage.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you can’t. You know that, right?”
At least she was talking to me again. It wasn’t the kind of conversation I wanted to have, but it wasn’t small talk, and she wasn’t avoiding my eyes. If anything, she was staring too intently at me.
If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn she could see exactly what I was thinking, which unfortunately was a play-by-play of the kiss.
I tried to play it casual.
“He gave me candy,” I said, “not a saucy note with his underwear tucked into it.”
Harriet wrinkled her nose at the thought.
“Not just candy,” she said.
“You’re overreacting,” I said.
“Oh really?” she asked. “Didn’t you hear him? This wasn’t something he had his assistant do—he put this together.”
“He touched all of my food,” I said. “That’s gross.”
“Your obsession with stale candy is what’s gross,” Harriet said. “What Cal did was thoughtful.”
“He’s a thoughtful guy,” I said.
That, at least, was true. And it gave Harriet pause.
“And,” I said, “he knows I’m a diva who needs to be coddled.”
Still, Harriet’s expression was one of concern. And I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. I just couldn’t bear to hear her say it out loud.
“Please, Kathleen,” Harriet said. “We’ve both worked too hard—”
Fuck.
“I’m. Not. Going. To. Sleep. With. Him,” I said.
Harriet didn’t look convinced, and I really didn’t have any right to feel indignant, but I did. Even though she had good reason to be concerned, I still hated that she was. That she didn’t trust me.
Then again, hadn’t I just been worrying about trusting myself?
“I know how important this show is,” I said. “Cal does too. Neither of us would do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Not intentionally, no,” Harriet said.
I’d always suspected that she judged me for what happened all those years ago with Cal. That even though she’d stood by me and supported me, she still thought less of me because of it. I couldn’t blame her, but it did sting. A lot.
“Nothing is going to happen,” I said. “It’s just candy.”
But it wasn’t just candy. That was the problem. It was history and intimacy and care.
Harriet nodded but kept chewing at her lip. I hadn’t convinced her at all. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand to be with her in this small space. I would have paid anything to go back to stilted small talk than face Harriet’s judgment right now.