In Harmony

“Affection?” Martin scoffed. “Pooh! You speak like a green girl, unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?”

I raised my eyes to Isaac. “I do not know, my lord, what I should think.”

Isaac held my gaze as Polonius went on to rant that Ophelia must obey him, as her father, and stay away from Hamlet.

I swallowed and kept my eyes on the script that was throwing my own life back up to me in black and white.

“I shall obey, my lord.”

Four hours later, the play ended with nea

rly every character dead. A dozen red binders shut with a resigned thump. We all stretched and gathered our things. Justin leaned over as I pulled up an Uber app on my phone. Leaned far enough into my space to make me cringe. I took a step away, pretending to readjust my bag.

“You need a ride?” Justin asked. “Where do you live? I got you covered.”

“Oh, uh…”

My gaze sought Isaac for some stupid reason, but he was talking to Martin. Justin was waiting for an answer. The weight of his expectations hanging over me. I heard myself blurt my address in that fucking ridiculous way girls have been taught since time immemorial—saying or doing things they’re not comfortable with for the sake of accommodating a man’s feelings.

“Awesome,” Justin said. “I live in Emerson Hills, too. About three blocks down from you.”

“Great,” I said. “Thanks.”

I walked up to where Martin and Isaac were talking. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to say thanks again for having me. Justin is going to give me a ride home.”

Now you know where I am and whose car I’m getting in.

Isaac slung his hands in his pockets and gave me a blank look as Justin joined us.

“Wonderful,” Martin said. “Brotherly love in action. Have a great night and good work, you two. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Thanks.” I started to go, then turned to Isaac. “Bye.”

His chin moved imperceptibly up and down, but he said nothing.

Like a text that says No, thanks and nothing else.

Justin and I headed downstairs.

“Brotherly love,” Justin said. “Martin takes this stuff so literally.”

I smiled faintly through my pressed lips. My entire body was stiff and when we stepped into the bracing cold night, my muscles bunched together tighter, drawing my shoulders up to my ears.

Justin led me to his shiny black, Ford F150 in the parking lot across from the theater, and held the door for me on the passenger side. Stiffly, I climbed in and was a bombarded with Justin’s scent—cologne, leather and the air freshener tree hanging from his rearview. He kept his truck immaculate. There was nothing in it to fear, but when he slid his large form into the driver seat, my heart took off at a gallop.

Calm down calm down calm down.

I put on my seatbelt with shaking hands.

“Cold?” Justin said. “The heater should get going pretty quick here.”

He let the truck idle for what felt like an eternity, and then finally began the drive to our neighborhood. He chatted easily the entire time, not seeming to notice my one-word answers to his questions.

“This is me,” I managed when he pulled on to my street. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He parked and glanced up at our huge white house. “You don’t have a car? I can give you a lift every night after rehearsal if you need it.”

“Thanks,” I said, climbing ungracefully out of the truck. “Great.”