LATER

LATER by Margaret S. E. Smith

Welcome to The Campus Commons, Marlowe University’s Messaging Service.

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FROM: Evelyn Anne Sanders Student Number [********]

TO: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

10/7 5:05 PM

EVELYN

Hi, Theodore—this is Evelyn Sanders from The Marlowe Review, Arts & Leisure. I’m doing short profile pieces on the cast and creative team for The Glass Menagerie. Professor Albright gave me the contact sheet. Would you be available to answer a few questions?

THEODORE

First, please never call me Theodore unless I’m in trouble or dead. It’s Theo.

EVELYN

Noted.

THEODORE

Second, yes. Absolutely. I am available, honored, delighted, and only mildly terrified.

EVELYN

Good. Mild terror photographs well.

THEODORE

Careful, Evelyn Ann Sanders. That almost sounded like a joke.

EVELYN

It almost was one.

THEODORE

Then we’re already making progress. Also, I go by Theo. Theo West, professionally.

EVELYN

Stage name?

THEODORE

Stage-adjacent name. Theo Westcott sounds like I should be inheriting a haunted estate. Theo West sounds like I might get cast before intermission.

EVELYN

Fair.

THEODORE

And you? Evelyn Ann Sanders sounds like a novelist who writes about difficult mothers and inclement weather.

EVELYN

Inclement? Are you certain you’re an actor and not a writer? At the moment, I write campus arts profiles. Difficult mothers and bad weather are beyond my current jurisdiction.

THEODORE

What do people call you?

EVELYN

You mean other than “that writer person”? Eve.

THEODORE

Eve? Eve?!

EVELYN

Yes. Eve. E-V-E. What’s wrong with Eve?

THEODORE

Not a thing, Eve. It’s just a little funny. My middle name is Adam.

EVELYN

Of course it is. I thought your middle name was John.

THEODORE

It is. Theodore John Adam Westcott. The Commons won’t let me put in two middle names.

EVELYN

I see.

THEODORE

I swear, I’m not making it up. My second middle name is Adam… EVE. 😊

EVELYN

That somehow makes it worse.

THEODORE

Or better! 😉

EVELYN

Okay, for the article, I’ll need your major, year, role, previous productions, and maybe a little about what drew you to this part.

THEODORE

Senior. Theatre performance major. Playing Tom. Previous sins include Mercutio, Algernon, one very earnest tree in a children’s theatre production, and a non-speaking dead body in Antigone. I was brilliant.

EVELYN

A dead body?

THEODORE

My most nuanced work.

EVELYN

I’ll be sure to include it. 😊

THEODORE

Please don’t.

EVELYN

Why Tom? Why that specific role?

THEODORE

That’s a dangerous question for text.

EVELYN

Too sensitive?

THEODORE

Too potentially verbose.

EVELYN

You did it again.

THEODORE

Did what?

EVELYN

Used a writer’s word.

THEODORE

Writers don’t corner the market, Evelyn Ann. Actors read a lot, you know. We know words.

EVELYN

No shade. It just surprised me a little. I like words. No, I love words. I actually prefer text.

THEODORE

I prefer talking.

EVELYN

I noticed.

THEODORE

That sounds like shade.

EVELYN

Maybe mild penumbra.

THEODORE

Excuse me?

EVELYN

You know, penumbra. A lighter, peripheral area of shadow? I thought you knew words.

THEODORE

Catch me after a performance while the juices are on overdrive. I’ll show you some words! Besides, you’ve just met me. How could you know how verbose I might be? Was that in the contact sheet?

EVELYN

Between the lines.

THEODORE

Ah. Writer.

EVELYN

Allegedly. Now, why Tom?

THEODORE

Tom because he wants out and hates himself for leaving. Because he narrates everything like language can turn guilt into art. Because he’s both inside the scene and outside it. Because he remembers people better than he knew how to love them when they were standing in front of him.

EVELYN

Wow. That’s impressive, Theodore John Adam Westcott.

THEODORE

You’re going to get a cramp if you do that again. Just Theo; please, I beg you.

EVELYN

Theo it is. Either way, that was very good.

THEODORE

Good for the article or good because it’s true?

EVELYN

Both.

THEODORE

You really do prefer text.

EVELYN

I told you.

THEODORE

Okay, Eve.

EVELYN

Okay, Adam.

THEODORE

Cruel.

EVELYN

I have your basic stats on the contact sheet. I’ll text back if I have any questions.

THEODORE

Please do. Have a good night, Eve.

EVELYN

Have a good night, Adam. Sorry, Theo.😊

FROM: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

TO: Evelyn Anne Sanders [********]

11/7 6:07 PM

THEODORE

I forgot to ask. Are you coming to rehearsal tonight?

EVELYN

I was planning to observe Thursday.

THEODORE

Come tonight instead. We’re doing the final scene.

EVELYN

I don’t usually attend rehearsals this early in the profile process.

THEODORE

Is that a rule?

EVELYN

No.

THEODORE

Then it’s a preference pretending to be a rule.

EVELYN

That is uncomfortably accurate.

THEODORE

The theatre at 7. Sit in the back. No one will bother you.

EVELYN

I’ll think about it.

THEODORE

That means no.

EVELYN

It means I’ll think about it.

THEODORE

Writer answer.

EVELYN

Actor pressure.

THEODORE

Fair

FROM: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

TO: Evelyn Anne Sanders [********]

11/8 10:43 AM

THEODORE

You didn’t come.

EVELYN

I told you I would think about it.

THEODORE

Thinking is a dangerous hobby.

EVELYN

Says the man playing Tom Wingfield.

THEODORE

Touché.

EVELYN

How was rehearsal?

THEODORE

Messy. Good messy. The kind where everyone goes quiet afterward because something almost happened.

EVELYN

Almost?

THEODORE

Theatre is mostly almost.

EVELYN

Writing too.

THEODORE

Well, we are technically in the same business. Entertainment, that is.

EVELYN

Different costumes.

THEODORE

You should let me send you a clip. We recorded part of the scene for notes.

EVELYN

For the article?

THEODORE

Sure.

EVELYN

That “sure” is doing a lot of work.

THEODORE

For the article. For your writer brain. For the haunted estate of Theodore Westcott.

EVELYN

Fine.

FROM: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

TO: Evelyn Anne Sanders [********]

11/8 8:32 PM

[video attached]

THEODORE

Be gentle.

THEODORE

Before you watch, please know I hate my hands in this.

EVELYN

Your hands?

THEODORE

They don’t know what to do unless someone gives them blocking.

EVELYN

K. Watching now.

THEODORE

That silence is either thoughtful or catastrophic.

EVELYN

Thoughtful.

THEODORE

Worse.

EVELYN

You look like someone trying to leave without moving.

THEODORE

That is annoyingly useful.

EVELYN

Sorry.

THEODORE

No. Don’t be. Most peeps just say “good job” or “you looked sad.” You saw.

EVELYN

Maybe because I’m used to watching people leave in sentences before they leave in real life.

THEODORE

That sounds like something you should put in a story.

EVELYN

Maybe I did.

THEODORE

You write fiction?

EVELYN

Sometimes.

THEODORE

Do I get to read it?

EVELYN

Absolutely not.

THEODORE

Yet.

EVELYN

No.

THEODORE

That was a very fast no.

EVELYN

I’m efficient.

THEODORE

You’re hiding.

EVELYN

And you perform for strangers under bright lights, pretending to be someone you’re not.

THEODORE

Yes, but that’s different.

EVELYN

How?

THEODORE

Because they’re not seeing me. They’re seeing the shape I make.

EVELYN

Sophistry. They’re still seeing something.

THEODORE

Something, yes.

EVELYN

Maybe that’s all any of us get.

THEODORE

That’s bleak, Eve.

EVELYN

It wasn’t meant to be.

THEODORE

I know.

EVELYN

Later, Theo.

THEODORE

Later, Eve.

FROM: Evelyn Anne Sanders Student Number [********]

TO: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

11/8 9:45 PM

EVELYN

Question for the article: When did you first know you wanted to act?

THEODORE

Real answer?

EVELYN

Preferably.

THEODORE

The first day I learned stage actors make tons of money… No?

THEODORE

Okay, seriously. At ten, I got cast as a fox in a school play. I had three lines. Mom cried like I’d cured something. That’s all it took.

EVELYN

That’s actually quite sweet.

THEODORE

It was, but that wasn’t really why.

EVELYN

Then why?

THEODORE

Because for those three lines, everyone had to listen until I finished.

EVELYN

Oh. That’s the real answer?

THEODORE

Too real for the article?

EVELYN

Or just real enough.

THEODORE

Your turn.

EVELYN

What?

THEODORE

When did you first know you wanted to write?

EVELYN

This interview has become compromised.

THEODORE

Is this still an interview? Answer the question, Miss Sanders.

EVELYN

When I realized paper didn’t interrupt.

THEODORE

Damn.

EVELYN

Too real?

THEODORE

Just real enough. Later?

EVELYN

Yes.

FROM: Theodore John Wescott [********]

TO: Evelyn Anne Sanders Student Number [********]

11/29 10:23 AM

THEODORE

I read your article.

EVELYN

Already?

THEODORE

It posted twenty minutes ago.

EVELYN

That’s concerningly fast.

THEODORE

I have alerts.

EVELYN

For yourself?

THEODORE

For the paper.

EVELYN

Liar.

THEODORE

A little.

EVELYN

Did I get anything wrong?

THEODORE

No. You made me sound more interesting than I am.

EVELYN

I don’t believe so. That’s not my job.

THEODORE

Then what is?

EVELYN

To notice.

THEODORE

You did.

EVELYN

😊

THEODORE

No, I mean it. You noticed the part I didn’t say.

EVELYN

That’s usually where the story is.

THEODORE

You should let people read your fiction.

EVELYN

You should stop trying to redirect interviews after they’re published.

THEODORE

This isn’t an interview anymore.

EVELYN

No?

THEODORE

No.

EVELYN

What is it?

THEODORE

I don’t know yet.

EVELYN

Me neither. Later?

THEODORE

Definitely.

FROM: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

TO: Evelyn Anne Sanders [********]

11/10 11:13 PM

THEODORE

Bad rehearsal tonight.

EVELYN

What happened?

THEODORE

Nothing dramatic. That’s the problem. I was dramatic enough for everyone.

EVELYN

Meaning?

THEODORE

Meaning I knew exactly how to cry on cue and no idea how to stop afterward.

EVELYN

Are you okay?

THEODORE

Yes. No. Actor answer.

EVELYN

Writer translation: complicated.

THEODORE

Exactly.

EVELYN

Do you want to talk about it?

THEODORE

I don’t know.

EVELYN

You don’t have to perform coherence.

THEODORE

That sentence just punched me gently in the throat.

EVELYN

Sorry.

THEODORE

Don’t be.

EVELYN

You can be quiet.

THEODORE

I’m bad at quiet.

EVELYN

You can be bad at it.

THEODORE

That helps more than it should. I’ll think about it.

EVELYN

Later?

THEODORE

Yeah.

FROM: Evelyn Anne Sanders [********]

TO: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

11/12 9:07 AM

EVELYN

I sent you something.

THEODORE

A story?

EVELYN

A page.

THEODORE

That sounds like a story trying not to be called a story.

EVELYN

Just read it.

THEODORE

Reading.

EVELYN

Please don’t narrate your process.

THEODORE

Too late. I am frowning thoughtfully.

EVELYN

Theo.

THEODORE

Okay. Quiet.

THEODORE

Eve.

EVELYN

That bad?

THEODORE

No.

EVELYN

Then what?

THEODORE

You write like you’re afraid someone will hear you, and desperate for someone to hear you.

EVELYN

Oh.

THEODORE

Too much?

EVELYN

No.

THEODORE

You don’t have to be clever right now.

EVELYN

I don’t know what to say.

THEODORE

Then don’t.

EVELYN

Okay.

THEODORE

Okay.

FROM: Theodore John Wescott, Student Number [********]

TO: Evelyn Anne Sanders [********]

11/14 3:17 PM

THEODORE

Opening night tomorrow.

EVELYN

I know.

THEODORE

Are you coming?

EVELYN

Someone else is writing the review, but yes, I’ll be there.

THEODORE

Really?

EVELYN

Really.

THEODORE

Should I be nervous?

EVELYN

Yes.

THEODORE

Brutal.

EVELYN

But not because of me.

THEODORE

Because of Tennessee Williams?

EVELYN

Because you care.

THEODORE

You’re dangerous when you’re sincere.

EVELYN

I’m worse when I revise.

THEODORE

After the show, will you wait?

EVELYN

Wait

THEODORE

For me. Outside. Or in the lobby. Somewhere that exists in the same physical universe.

EVELYN

That sounds dramatic.

THEODORE

Actor

EVELYN

Theo.

THEODORE

We don’t have to make it strange.

EVELYN

It already is.

THEODORE

Good strange?

EVELYN

Mostly.

THEODORE

You can be as quiet or as loud as you want to be. I’ll like either version.

EVELYN

You don’t know that.

THEODORE

I know enough.

EVELYN

That’s what scares me.

THEODORE

Me too.

EVELYN

You don’t have to perform for me.

THEODORE

That’s what scares ME.

EVELYN

There is no illusion greater than fear. Lao Tzu

THEODORE

Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power. Jim Morrison

EVELYN

Together?

THEODORE

Maybe.

EVELYN

We can do maybe.

INT. CAMPUS THEATRE LOBBY – NIGHT

Students and parents spill through the lobby doors in warm bursts of noise. Programs fold.

Coats rustle. Someone laughs too loudly near the concessions table.

EVE stands beside a poster for THE GLASS MENAGERIE; her phone held in both hands.

She looks smaller than she sounded. Across the lobby, THEO emerges from the theatre doors still wearing stage makeup badly scrubbed from around one eye. He sees her immediately and stops. She sees him. For a moment, both smile.

THEO walks toward her. EVE puts her phone in her coat pocket. He notices, and almost says something about it, but doesn’t.

THEO

Hi.

EVE

Hi.

A BEAT.

THEO

You came.

EVE

I did.

THEO

You did.

Another beat.

Someone brushes past them mumbling, “Sorry.” Neither of them answers. THEO shifts his weight. His hands start toward his pockets, stop, then hang at his sides. EVE looks at his hands. He notices her noticing. He laughs once, softly. Too much air, not enough sound.

THEO

I never know what to do with them after curtain call.

EVE

Your hands?

THEO

Yeah.

EVE

They were good.

THEO

My hands?

EVE

The show.

THEO

Oh! Right.

Another Beat, then:

EVE

So were you. Very good.

They both smile again.

It almost becomes something. Then doesn’t.

The lobby empties around them. The noise thins into footsteps, doors, distant voices.

THEO glances toward the glass doors leading outside.

THEO

Do you want to—

EVE

I was thinking—

THEO

Sorry.

EVE

No, you—

Silence. They stand with everything they have already said between them, invisible and suddenly unusable.

EVE’S phone buzzes in her pocket. She flinches.

THEO hears it. Then his phone buzzes too.

Neither reaches for them. Not at first.

A long moment, then:

EVE takes out her phone; THEO takes out his.

Their faces change in the blue light. Not much. Just enough.

EVE reads. Theo reads.

The world gives them both somewhere easier to look.

EVE

I should probably—

THEO

Yeah. I have—

They nod. Neither finishes.

EXT. CAMPUS THEATRE – NIGHT

Cold air. Wet leaves stuck to the sidewalk. They step out through different doors. For a few seconds, they walk in opposite directions.

EVE stops first. THEO stops after. They turn back.

Across the steps, across the autumn-dark space, they look at each other.

EVE gives a small smile. Not happy. Not sad. Something unfinished.

THEO raises one hand. A slight wave. Almost nothing. Enough.

EVE raises hers in return.

EVE

Later?

THEO

Later.

They turn away and walk on, phones in hand, already engaged in safer conversations.