Dinner was quiet, with even the usual loudmouths and scene-stealers a bit more subdued because of pre-show nerves. Some needed a lot more reassurance, and I tried to give it, and I was actually grateful to have my mind on something else.
I spent as much time as possible in the men’s dressing room. So did some of the women in the show, for that matter. The guys weren’t as shy about being caught in their underwear and the students had developed a lot of closeness during the first semester and the first student show we had done. It also helped that everyone parked the pizza and a prematurely opened bottle of wine in the men’s dressing room. I tried to keep to myself and get my head right for the scene, but I was in no mood to compare my own life to the fiction I was presenting. Jill came over and sat with me. She insisted on hugging me and asking me if I was alright, if I still got nervous before a first show–that’s what she imagined was the root of my off night–and seemed to be flirting with me a bit more than usual. It didn’t help that I had kept searching the room for Liz and finding her, and she would smile at me; even I began to think I was looking at her more than a scene partner should.
The show started, and one by one, we went through our scenes and earned our applause, as well as a few laughs far apart. When Jill and I were up next, she just about fell apart. I rubbed her back and told her she was going to be great, then gave her a last hug. We ran lines quietly together and it helped build her confidence.
We went out onto the stage, under the lights, with those invisible people hiding in the dark as they watched us. I got a few laughs with my awkward professor act, but Jill got many more with the better part, the sex-crazed student with a preposterous Southern drawl. We were good, though it wasn’t our best performance–it almost never is the first night. Something about the audience refusing to give up any vocal reactions just blunts all your faith in what you’re doing. Jill kissed me and someone gave us a “whooo!” Most of the audience was students, some faculty, and of course, friends of the cast. I didn’t bother dwelling on how many rumors would start about me and Jill after this. It was probably better than the truth.
The lights went down and some scattered applause came for us. We went backstage again, returning to the men’s room. Everyone was supportive, as they usually are with a good cast, and told us how much the audience response sounded great to them, as if the walls gave them a better view than our place on the stage.
The door opened and closed again, quietly; I had hoped it was Liz, but it was Regina, one of the students who had done her first scene.
“Oh my god–Miss Sachs is over there getting into costume for her scene. I can’t deal with it.”
Another girl, Jen, laughed as she dabbed a cloth at the makeup on her neck. “So what? Why is that weird?”
Regina gave her and the others a “duh” look and said, “You heard she switched roles with Albert, right?”
One of the guys asked, “What do you mean ‘switched’?”
“They’re doing a different scene?”
“No,” said Regina, still looking upset, “she’s doing the shower part now.”
“What?” They had my attention, that was for sure. I started sweating even before they gave me any concrete explanation.
“Like, she’s wearing the bikini?”
“I don’t think so–maybe. But she’s the one who kept telling him the scene was only going to be good if he was naked.”
“No shit? Miss Sachs is gonna be naked?”
“No way…”
I covered my eyes and hoped no one had any attention to spare for my private crisis.
Most of them kept denying that Regina had heard things right, some even accusing her of lying, but a few of the guys were getting hopeful that she was. They were getting noisy, and if we got louder, we were going to distract from the action on the stage.
“Quiet,” I warned them, and even though they usually bowed to my teacher status, it still took a little persuading to get them to listen. “Hey–please… quiet. We’re still in the middle of a show. Just… act like pros. We’re actors. We use our bodies all the time.” That seemed to rattle them up again a little more, so I told them, “I’m pretty sure Miss Sachs will be doing her part in a bikini. Might have been funnier if Albert had done it that way.”
They laughed, but the energy in the room didn’t disappear, it only quieted a little. The guys talked about stealing away to the deck to watch the scene and a few of the girls said they would go, too, but at the same time they were making fun of the guys for their perverse interest. I said they could only go if they went quietly, in pairs, and didn’t make any noises to distract. It was probably unnecessary–and I couldn’t have stopped them if they disagreed, really–but I also said I would go with them to make sure they kept everything orderly.
Obviously that wasn’t my only reason for going.
“The deck” was what everyone called the additional seating on the second level of the theater. We took the outside stairs, going up two at a time with an emphasis on being quiet, and when each pair arrived, they took seats overlooking the main stage. In some ways, we had a better view than everybody except the first row. There was a bit of bustling in the group around me, but I shushed them when the lights went black and the brief applause heralded the end of another scene–and the beginning of Liz and Albert’s.
The scene began as I had seen it done before, but with a massive difference–Albert came in, carrying his suitcase, jingling the keys in his hand. Oh, fuck. The girl had been right–he was playing Liz’s role. Which meant that Liz was playing his.
I could hear the shower running in the background, and Albert looked up when he noticed it, too. He went into the bathroom–which was off-stage, of course–and Liz and he screamed in unison. He jumped backwards out of the bathroom–which is to say, back onto the stage.
“Holy hell! I’m sorry–I’m sorry! I’ve got the wrong room! I’m so sorry!”
The audience laughed as Albert, an arm over his eyes, walked off the stage in the other direction, miming the opening of a door. They were still laughing in the silence, obviously spotting his suitcase left on the prop bed in his absence. He opened the door again, arm lifted cautiously but not entirely to shield his vision, and he came back in the room. He picked up his suitcase–the audience chuckling along–and went back to the door, opened it, started out, then stared at the door he was improvising. He sighed and stepped back into the room.
“Hey! Um… are you still a naked woman in my bathroom!”
“Get out!”
More laughter, though slight. “Ah… I would… I would, really… but… this is actually my room.”
“Piss off! I’ll call hotel security!”
“Which room, um, which room are you sending them to?”
“Room 410, you pervert–get out of here!”
“Okay–I’m sorry. I am. I just, uh… it, um, it occurs to me… this is room 310.”
Some laughter circled around, only the sound of a shower occupying the stage. Back came the response, from Liz off-stage, “Get out of my room!”