“Marley,” he croaked through a raspy voice of utter surprise, leaping off the couch where he’d been seated watching television. He pantomimed flicking off the TV with a remote and turned back to me.
I took two steps closer to him. “Still alone, I see?”
“Nobody could fill the hole you left in my heart,” Scrooge said.
“What heart?” I replied coldly, the line like sniper fire straight to the core.
Then, instead of seeing the actor reading across from me, I saw Adam’s intense face, his greedy eyes, his serpentine smile.
The actor’s posture softened, his shoulders slumping forward. “You know I had one once. You occupied every square inch of it.”
“Until I didn’t. Until your other pursuits pushed me out,” I cried.
“You always knew who I was, Marley. Who I’ve always been. I never hid it from you.”
And suddenly, it was as if I was speaking to Gabe, the actor’s forlorn face now morphing into the same face I’d known since I was a freshman new to the big city. The Gabe who had lofty dreams of making the world a better place. The emotion rising in my chest made it difficult for the words to come out in anything more than a strangled whisper.
“I lost myself because of you. And now I wear the chain I forged in life,” I replied. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard.” I held up the imaginary chain, tears pricking my eyes, begging him to see the links for what they were—the sacrifices I’d made for him, which paved my way to never creating a life of my own. “I girded this of my own free will and of my own free will, I wore it . . . I still wear it. I am forever tethered to the mistakes of my past—both the ones I made and those I didn’t because I was afraid . . . of losing you. Of failing on my own. Of not being good enough. So instead, I became nothing. I have no one.”
The actor advanced toward me, his body pressing up against mine, and traced his fingers down my cheek.
I topped his hand with my own and whispered, “Don’t you understand? I am the ghost of my former self, Ebenezer, a thin veil, a shadow of who I should have been.”
“Don’t blame me for your shortcomings, Marley. You were the one who didn’t choose, who didn’t have enough backbone to stand up for yourself. You allowed others to make your decisions for you.” The actor shouted louder and louder with each emphasized point, backing me across the space with his accusations.
Suddenly then, minus the aggression, the words and sentiment reminded me of Marisol, of exactly what she was trying to explain to me when we’d had our fight about Adam. What she’d been trying to tell me since we met, this whole time. This. Whole. Damn. Time.
At the same moment of my remarkable epiphany, the pit swelled with the sonorous echoes of orchestral bells. Silver bells?! Ringing out like the truth, like the clanking of metal on metal—the bells breaking apart the links of my very heavy chain.
And finally, it all became astonishingly clear—the phone booth hadn’t taken me back to reconcile my past with Gabe like I’d thought, but instead to mend something entirely different.
Chapter Forty-One
When the audition ended, the team thanked me for my time and let me know they’d be making their final casting decisions by the end of the month. For as great as the first half went, I was equally unsure of how my impromptu scene measured up to their expectations. But either way, I did what I had set out to do. No regrets. I laid it all out there, and the rest was out of my hands. I expelled a deep breath and stepped out of the building feeling lighter than I had in ages. Though still riddled with uncertainty, I felt somewhat freer now that the audition was behind me. Sometimes you don’t realize the weight of what you’ve been carrying until you finally lay it down.
I slid on my trench coat and yanked my hair out of my tight bun. The warm April rain had petered out, leaving a cloudy but dry afternoon. I pulled out my phone to call Gabe and let him know the audition was over, but when I got to his name, I scrolled past it until I landed on Marisol’s. It’d been almost six years since we last spoke. I didn’t even know if this was still her phone number.
Before I could second-guess myself or talk myself out of it, I clicked on the message icon and typed out:
Me: I did it. I finally rode the Cyclone.
Not expecting a response, I started to shove my phone back into my coat pocket but stopped when I saw the three flashing dots indicating Marisol was in the midst of answering. A small gasp caught in my throat, and I held my breath awaiting her reply.
. . .
Marisol Cell: And how was it?
Me: Fan-freakin-tastic.
Marisol Cell: Yasss, Queen! Yes!
Me: I know we have a lot of ground to make up, and I have a lot of sorrys to dole out, but long story short, I miss you.
. . .
The three dots flashed for what felt like forever, and then finally her message appeared.
Marisol Cell: I miss you too.
Me: Can we meet up and chat? Wherever, whenever. You name the place and time, and I’m there.
Marisol Cell: As luck would have it, I’m actually in the city today seeing a matinee with my son. Could you meet me in Times Square around 5?
Me: Want to meet at Mimi’s?
Marisol Cell: Sounds perfect. See you then.
I tucked my phone back in my pocket, not realizing how hard I’d been smiling. My cheeks ached, and I was surprised to feel tears wetting my lashes. Her son? After so much radio silence, I would finally get a chance to set a few things right with Marisol, and it was more than overdue.
After making a few stops along the way, I arrived at Mimi’s around 4:00 p.m. Charlie was onstage filling in for Kai, playing Shrek to Lyla’s Princess Fiona. They were just finishing up a raucous rendition of “Big Bright Beautiful World” when I walked inside.
I was smiling and whooping heartily at their bows, and they in turn leaped offstage at the sight of me to ask a million questions about how the audition went. My heart swelled with their exuberant enthusiasm and obvious pride as they ushered me toward the dressing room.
“So, did you slay it like I knew you would?” Lyla asked.
“I definitely . . . for sure . . . I gave it . . . yeah, I slayed it!” I answered, unable to hide under meekness or modesty anymore. I was freakin’ proud of myself, and it was okay to be excited about how much I was finally putting into pursuing my dreams.
Charlie swooped me up in his arms and swung me around in the air.
“Hey there, watch those green hands, mister. I know better than anyone how hard it is to get that makeup off,” I joked, my arms around his neck squeezing him tightly as we spun.
“Sorry,” he said, putting me down. “I’m just really proud of you.”
“I don’t know if I got the role, but I sure as hell gave it my damnedest.”
“I knew you would,” he said with a wink, “but, what are you doing here? You’re not working tonight. Shouldn’t you be out celebrating or something?”
“I’m meeting someone here. An old friend. Marisol, actually.”
Charlie’s brows curved into a firm arch. “Well then, let me clear off the VIP table for you two.”
“We have a VIP table?”
“For Very Important Performers and you, my friend, certainly qualify.”