“retirement villa”.
“Ugh,” Michael said aloud. The stark blandness of the “Villa” reminded him suddenly of his great grandpa Miller, who he’d been forced to visit every other Saturday when he was young. He’d stare out the window for the whole visit, his face limp and his eyes blank from all the medications. Every time they’d get up to leave he’d roll over onto his other side and point to the machines that beeped and prodded his life along. His mother would pretend she didn’t see. Michael tossed the ad in the garbage pile.
Then he froze. He looked down at the brochure again.
Tanish’s joke sounded again in his mind: “It’s not like you can wait around for a volunteer.” Michael stood and wiped his nose on his sleeve. The overzealous smiles of the actors looked up at him from the pamphlet cover.
Maybe there was a way.
He would need his costume.
10
Everyone was in a hurry. The energy was panicked, which was unsettling.
“Hi, Michael.” Charlotte barely looked at him as she hurried past with her clipboard.
Michael tried to say hi in return, but all that came out was a choked sort of gurgle. He had spent the day either asleep or on his computer, with his phone shut off and his curtains closed. Bell’s words regarding the coming hunger had haunted his dreams. He didn’t want to take any chances.
Just get through the play , he told himself sternly, and get away with the costume .
He pushed his way past the scurrying cast members and into the guys’ dressing room. You couldn’t really be shy if you were going to be in theatre. Michael had the luxury of wearing a costume that he didn’t have to undress first to wear, but the people wearing skin-tight black leotards were not so lucky. He averted his eyes and shuffled along the locker-room-style bench all the way to the end. He sat down and untied his sneakers, trying to unsee the things he had passed. People ran around him in every direction. Michael wondered why everything was so rushed. It hadn’t been so bad opening night.
He got into his costume quickly, anxiety making him clumsy with the buttons as he thought of going out on stage.
“Hey Michael,” Carter said, eyes on his clipboard as he rushed past. “Have you talked to them yet?”
“Talked to who?”
Carter stopped what he was doing. “The cops. They’re in the prop room interviewing everyone.”
He could swear his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Cops. Questioning everyone. I should have seen this coming , he thought desperately.
“They told Charlotte they would be staying around for the show and that no one was allowed to leave until they had talked to everyone.” He gestured toward the lobby with his pen. “They’ve got a guard at the door with a list of our names checking them off as they go.”
“But right before the show?” Michael asked incredulously.
“Don’t get me started,” Carter said. “Charlotte looked like she might start crying, she was so mad. No one is ready, and it’s already—” Carter looked at his watch. “Seven minutes to curtain. They’ll just have to get to you after. You can blame the stage manager. Hurry!”
Michael snatched up the scythe and attached the mesh face piece on his way out the door.
“Where are my candleholders?” Michael heard Carter yell as he stepped around to the back of the stage.
Michael looked into the dark space and was surprised to realize he could see every leg of the frame even through the costume. He stepped over each one easily and waited in silence for the announcements to start.
I should have seen that coming. Michael pressed the cool wooden shaft of the scythe against his forehead. He felt that same burgeoning panic that heated his insides the night before boiling up again. What will I say? Can I try to sneak out? No. That would just make me look like I’ve got something to hide . He
“Ugh,” Michael said aloud. The stark blandness of the “Villa” reminded him suddenly of his great grandpa Miller, who he’d been forced to visit every other Saturday when he was young. He’d stare out the window for the whole visit, his face limp and his eyes blank from all the medications. Every time they’d get up to leave he’d roll over onto his other side and point to the machines that beeped and prodded his life along. His mother would pretend she didn’t see. Michael tossed the ad in the garbage pile.
Then he froze. He looked down at the brochure again.
Tanish’s joke sounded again in his mind: “It’s not like you can wait around for a volunteer.” Michael stood and wiped his nose on his sleeve. The overzealous smiles of the actors looked up at him from the pamphlet cover.
Maybe there was a way.
He would need his costume.
10
Everyone was in a hurry. The energy was panicked, which was unsettling.
“Hi, Michael.” Charlotte barely looked at him as she hurried past with her clipboard.
Michael tried to say hi in return, but all that came out was a choked sort of gurgle. He had spent the day either asleep or on his computer, with his phone shut off and his curtains closed. Bell’s words regarding the coming hunger had haunted his dreams. He didn’t want to take any chances.
Just get through the play , he told himself sternly, and get away with the costume .
He pushed his way past the scurrying cast members and into the guys’ dressing room. You couldn’t really be shy if you were going to be in theatre. Michael had the luxury of wearing a costume that he didn’t have to undress first to wear, but the people wearing skin-tight black leotards were not so lucky. He averted his eyes and shuffled along the locker-room-style bench all the way to the end. He sat down and untied his sneakers, trying to unsee the things he had passed. People ran around him in every direction. Michael wondered why everything was so rushed. It hadn’t been so bad opening night.
He got into his costume quickly, anxiety making him clumsy with the buttons as he thought of going out on stage.
“Hey Michael,” Carter said, eyes on his clipboard as he rushed past. “Have you talked to them yet?”
“Talked to who?”
Carter stopped what he was doing. “The cops. They’re in the prop room interviewing everyone.”
He could swear his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Cops. Questioning everyone. I should have seen this coming , he thought desperately.
“They told Charlotte they would be staying around for the show and that no one was allowed to leave until they had talked to everyone.” He gestured toward the lobby with his pen. “They’ve got a guard at the door with a list of our names checking them off as they go.”
“But right before the show?” Michael asked incredulously.
“Don’t get me started,” Carter said. “Charlotte looked like she might start crying, she was so mad. No one is ready, and it’s already—” Carter looked at his watch. “Seven minutes to curtain. They’ll just have to get to you after. You can blame the stage manager. Hurry!”
Michael snatched up the scythe and attached the mesh face piece on his way out the door.
“Where are my candleholders?” Michael heard Carter yell as he stepped around to the back of the stage.
Michael looked into the dark space and was surprised to realize he could see every leg of the frame even through the costume. He stepped over each one easily and waited in silence for the announcements to start.
I should have seen that coming. Michael pressed the cool wooden shaft of the scythe against his forehead. He felt that same burgeoning panic that heated his insides the night before boiling up again. What will I say? Can I try to sneak out? No. That would just make me look like I’ve got something to hide . He
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