One Man Play

The sun was rising over the lake and a shell was jamming into my foot as I dug my feet into the sand, though the sand felt too nice to take it out. A new idea popped into my head, and I wrote it in my pocket notebook. As I finished the sentence, I heard footsteps shuffling up towards me from behind, and then a hand on my shoulder.

“What are you working on?” My dad asked.

“Just the usual.” I said.

“Hmmph. It’s not taking up all your time, is it? You still have to job hunt.”

“This is my job hunt. For the next three months, remember?”

“Yeah. We’re gonna go get some breakfast at that same place we went last year if you want to come. You really liked their Quesadillas.”

“Uhhm. I think I’m gonna stay out here for a bit, if that’s ok. I’ll eat later.”

“Okay. I’ll bring you something.” He said as he was walking away. Another idea struck me, and I scribbled again in my notebook.

***

In theatre class, we were assigned a scene partner for our latest scenes. We had about a week to prepare to perform them. The class sat in pairs, scattered around the classroom, scripts in hand.

“I don’t think Jenny would be very into Fall Out Boy, honestly. She’s very much gives off the vibe that she would, like, listen to Olivia Rodrigo, or Sabrina Carpenter.”

“Mmm, yeah. I don’t think any character in this play would like Fall Out Boy actually. They all suck too much.”

She laughed. “True. I think I could probably write more likeable characters, to be honest. They’re all so whiny.”

“You probably could, yeah.” There was a pause. “It’s funny you mention that, I’m actually trying to write a script for a play right now.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Really? I didn’t peg you for a writer.”

“Haha, yeah. I get that. So far, though, I think my characters are a little more likeable.”

“Mmm. Would your characters listen to Fall Out Boy?”

“One of them’s a musician, so I think I would go so far as to say he would perform fall out boy in his bedroom.”

“Oh, now I’m interested. Can I read it?”

“Yeah, it’s not finished or anything but you can keep it until our next class.” I pulled out my notebook and handed it to her. “Don’t be too harsh, though, I still need to edit it and everything.”

My teacher walked over. “Josh, sorry to eavesdrop, but did I hear something about you wanting to write a play?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m like halfway done, so I think it should be finished pretty soon.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Is it just the notebook, or do you have an online copy, too?”

“Erm, yeah, I was gonna transcribe most of it this weekend, actually.”

“Ok, well when you’re finished with that, email it over to me, ok? I have someone I think I could send it too if it’s good.”

“Okay, yeah, sounds great. I’ll get that done as soon as possible!”

He walked off to help some other students with their manuscript. Alexa and I looked at each other.

“Do you mind if I have that for the weekend, actually-”

“Uh, fine.” She said, rolling her eyes sarcastically.

“You’ll be first in line to read it once it’s finished.” I said.

***

I spent the rest of the weekend furiously typing out the rest of the story. Alexa texted me about a Fall Out Boy concert, to which I responded with a pair of eyes with eyebrows raised. When I was done typing out the rest of the play, I emailed it to my professor, and he got back to me within two hours with the email of the theatre department head. He said he had contacted her, and let her know that one of his students was going to be sending her a play soon. I thanked him, and proceeded to send my play over to her. My dad sipped a coffee and asked what I was typing over here. I contemplated telling him about my recent development with the theatre department head, but I didn’t want to risk anything before it was a done deal, so I told him “The usual.” He was disappointed, but said nothing.

***

By the next theatre class, it was already time to perform our pieces. We sat in the back while the rest of the class took turns pretending to yell or cry at each other.

“That quick?” She asked.

“Like a day after Professor Castle sent it to her, yeah. I guess she liked the script.”

She laughed. “I would say so. So, what does that mean? You’re going to put it on soon?”

“I don’t know, we’re just talking about casting right now, but it should work, yeah.”

“Very exciting. Can I read it yet?” She asked, and I said yes, handing my notebook to her. “Don’t lose that, it’s an important artifact for when I’m famous.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

I don’t think she had any idea how little I was joking there, but I didn’t bother to tell her. It was enough to have my dad laughing in my face every time I told him that I was working on a script. I didn’t need two.

“By the way,” She said, “There’s gonna be a Fall Out Boy concert on campus in like two weeks.”

“God, that’s awesome. Are you going?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna buy tickets tonight.” She said, and there was a pause. I knew what she was really asking me. At least I thought so, but I thought about all of the time I was going to have to start dedicating to the play.

“Well, that’ll be awesome.” I said, and we watched the rest of the show in silence.

Work on the play picked up, and we finally decided on a venue date for the show, in exactly two months, which happened to be how much time was left in me and my dad’s agreement, although I still hadn’t told him anything. We had gotten a few people to audition, and chosen a cast, which didn’t take much since it was only a one person play. We even got some theatre majors to help us with the set design.

Next theatre class, we were paired up with new people for our new scenes. Alexa came over to me with the notebook in her hand before we met up with our new partners.

“What’d you think of it?” I asked.

“It was good, but it was a bit sad. I don’t know if I liked the characters much more than the ones in the last play. He wants to be this famous musician, but he’s always alone.”

“Well, it’s a one man show. That’s kind of the point.”

“Well, maybe make it a two person show. That way he’s not just playing the guitar in his room alone.”

“Yeah, good point.” I said.

“Speaking of which, there’s still tickets, if you want to go.” She said, playfully.

“Ah, thanks, but I’ve been kind of busy with the play.”

“Hmm. Busy guy.” She said. “Well, then I should probably leave you to it. Good luck.” And she walked away to her scene partner.

The next month was spent entirely on rehearsal. I continued editing the script slightly, but mostly helped out with set design since we were on a barebones schedule. I finally told my family about it, now that tickets were on sale and I was absolutely sure that it wouldn’t fall through. The month passed quickly, and soon enough the show day came. I had texted Alexa and asked if she wanted to come a few days earlier, but it had been weeks since she’d given me my notebook back at this point, and she hadn’t responded. Thankfully, all of my family came.

On show night, we all sat in a row, and waited for the lights to dim. The play opened on a room, where the main character was playing a song on the guitar. I hadn’t told my parents about anything about the play, so they didn’t bat an eye when another girl walked out, and sat on the bed to sing along to his guitar playing.

The audience laughed at the jokes, and cried at the sad moments, and then the play ended, as all plays do. I could feel my parents’ thoughts almost, and my dad agreed to give me another three months to pursue my dream, which I guess meant that he liked the play. Soon enough they were back in the car, heading back home. The rest of the room cleared out, too, as the stragglers who hung around to talk with their friends emptied out. All that remained was one man, sitting across from me, reading the playbill. Once my parents left, he walked up to me, as the only people remaining were the two actors and the stage hands, who were behind the curtain now. He was dressed in a button up and slacks, and his hair was slicked back with gel. He extended a hand out to me.

“I really loved the show. I thought it was beautifully written. Listen, I heard about this from Lindsey, the theatre department head? She told me you two had communicated to help put this thing on. She’s always doing things like that. Helping out others before herself. Well, I guess she inspired me a little. Erm, I was wondering if you’d like a job. I’m in the middle of writing a pilot for my show. And the writers we have… let’s just say they’re making slow progress. Slow, ugly progress. I was wondering, if you’re not too busy with school, if you’d like to come on and help to write it?”

Thankfully it was dark. I thought I might start crying, but I don’t think he could see my eyes get teared up.

“How long would this job be?”

“About twenty hours a week. It’s thirty minutes from here, but we’d let you work remote. How’s your course load? It might be a lot to take on if you’re busy.”

“No, that’s ok. I’ll make time.”

“You’ll probably have to go out less. Maybe tell your friends you’re busy every couple of hangouts.” He laughed.

“And how long would I be writing for you for?”

“Three months. It’d be hard work, but if you’re trying to get your foot in the industry, I have to say, it’s a pretty sweet deal. What do you think?”

I considered it for a moment. “You know, there’s a lot of people going out to the bars tonight. I could have been there, but instead I’m here, doing this. I haven’t slept in a while. I’ve been staying up late every night. It sounds like this would be a good amount of work. Most people my age would probably take a break before signing on for another three months of work.”

“That’s true. I’m asking a lot of you, I know. I’d understand it if you said no.”

I looked over and saw the two main actors. The stage had cleared out, and the lights were on. Their laughter filled the now empty room, punctuated by wild, careless swipes of the guitar strings. They sang a quick riff, purposely making it sound bad, and burst out in laughter again. I looked down at my phone. Empty except for an email.

I noticed that there was something small and sharp poking my foot on the inside of my shoe. I put my phone back in my pocket, and looked back at the man. If I had bothered to listen closely enough, I would have heard the music coming from upstairs, where a concert was currently going on. Maybe if I hadn’t walked out with the man, and I wasn’t on a time limit of three months, then I would have even stopped to wonder where that concert Alexa mentioned was being performed, after all. And if I hadn’t been so busy with the play, then maybe I would have seen the note scrawled in the margin of my notebook that said, “Great play. He would definitely listen to Fall Out Boy, even if it is alone in his room.” Instead, I simply took his hand and shook it.

End of play