Lillian stepped out of the car onto the sidewalk along the fence lined across the back of the school, the only section where the theater was visible from a distance. The large, ominous building had, years ago, intimidated her. Not so much in the countless performances she had participated in during her time at South High School, but merely in its appearance. But that was years ago, she had quickly grown accustomed to the building, her one place of refuge in a harsh world. The one place where she could pretend to be someone else when nobody ever listened to what was real.
She pulled herself out of her nostalgic trance and looked around, scanning the oddly empty parking several yards away. She had some time before Arwin's performance, but not too much time. Only enough time for him to get into character.
This was a common practice, and she understood it. It was not easy to get into a life of stage acting, even in a town like Stromwood, where theater was well respected. Even at her high school it seemed as though everyone knew whenever there would be a show, plenty of people came and the actors were often part of large social circles. So naturally, after years of trying to improve his abilities, it would only be natural for him to take it as seriously as he does. But she had to admit, it did seem a little worrying at times.
She took one more glance at the theater before finally sparking a conversation with Arwin, who was tightening his belt. "Do you still remember the name of the play?"
"Yes," he answered, with an almost disinterested tone, "The Mystery Plays, same as the last time you asked me."
Arwin's blunt response surprised her, but she quickly dismissed it. She had been talkative in their drive here, and it was at her request that they stop by the theater, even though it was Arwin who was performing later that day. Most actors she had come to know had some sort of motivational ritual they would do before a show, but not him. At least, not aside from his method acting, which could be overwhelming at times. The two met backstage during a rehearsal their freshman year, their first show at South. Neither of them had gotten a lead role, so that left them plenty of time to talk while the others were on stage. Lillian was quickly impressed by how blithe and optimistic he seemed to be during that show, even though he only had a few lines toward the end that would simply serve to help uplift one of the main characters.
Lillian grasped the side of the door and turned for one last look at the theater before sliding into the front seat, still thinking about how to start a conversation to break the increasingly obvious silence. "Are you nervous?" she asked him, knowing he would be much too confident to be nervous. He had, after all, been trying to get into character for the last few weeks. Arwin was unusually secretive about his role this time around, Lillian never heard him even mention the name of his character, much less what he would be doing in the show. But despite the universal misconception of actors, Arwin was on good terms with secrecy.
"No," he answered, "I can't afford to have any weakness right now".
Lillian didn't look at him when he answered, but she could tell he was smiling. His obvious character voice helped alleviate some of the tension, even if he did sound menacing. It wouldn't be the first time he played a character like that.
The long stretches of time he would request for concentration during each of his shows had, over time, grown on her. Out of habit she ended the conversation and began peering out the window at the passing buildings. She knew this part of town well, many of her out-of-school theatrical endeavors were conceived in the area. The children's theater wasn't too far from South High School, she barely glimpsed it as Arwin passed a yellow light. That was where she had first found theater, no ordinary school could ever have taught her the lessons she acquired in that building. One particular performance came to mind, way back in second grade her "troupe" had attempted to recreate Hamlet in cuts. Lillian had to cross-dress as Polonius since all of the boys were taken up by the many male roles of the play.
Driving further down, Lillian found the Southern California Theater and the smile that had been growing on her face suddenly faded. She had never been a part of this level of theater, but Arwin had. Several times in fact, but it was one of his shows that rose above the others. The first time she had seen Arwin cry was onstage in this theater, not just as an actor but as a person. He had forced himself to cry on stage during one of his scenes, and he went on to claim that he did it without the use of memories. It just came to him, he said. Whatever that meant.
Eager to distance herself from these unusually pessimistic thoughts, she prodded Arwin once again. "I've never been able to take a hint."
She leaned forward slightly out of sheer curiosity of his response and saw the intensity drain out of his face. He resumed it once more but only after what seemed to be an attempt at composure. "No, you haven't," he agreed, "If you stop talking so much you'll make this easier." She could tell he was still maintaining character, but a lack of a response prevented her from continuing. Arwin granted her the favor, "Are you cold?"
"Yes"
"Good, I was going for that"
No smile, but he couldn't be serious.
"Do you know where we are going?"
"As long as there is another place there will be questions, and as long as there are questions there will be other places"
A line maybe? It sounded forced....
Their conversation continued for the next couple minutes, and as it did Arwin seemed more and more distant. Exasperated, Lillian decided to take a more direct route in her investigation.
"Arwin?"
No answer, but it only took a motion of his eyes to know he had acknowledged her.
"Who are you?"
Arwin stopped the car. Lillian only now realized that he had been slowing down prior to her question. He swung open the door and burst outside, only remaining in view for a few seconds before disappearing behind a building.
She slumped down in her seat, anxious for him to return, even though she wasn't sure if he would. They were still a ways off from the theater and he had never shown any signs of violent intentions with her even when they had argued before, so she dismissed this as merely an outbreak. But he had never done that before. Several minutes passed by and he finally came back, telling her that he was under a lot of pressure and that he needed to get to the theater as soon as possible.
On the remaining minutes of their drive, instead of anger or frustration Lillian could see Arwin adopting a more disheartened expression, as though he had lost something he could never get back. She wondered if this would impact his performance, but refrained from saying anything as soon enough they came to a stop in the back parking lot of the theater.
One last string of memories crossed her mind, as she stared at the broken figure leaning over the steering wheel. She had seen that expression on him before, or maybe she just imagined it on him every time he was calling her from out of town on his rare adventures abroad. He didn't talk about his shows as often as he used to, and his behaviors had less and less consistency. Some weeks he would frequently make jokes with her and other times he seemed too moody or busy to talk. But either way, he always was the one who ended up talking the most, and was nearly always the one to decide when the conversation both started and ended, often cutting himself off.
Lillian pulled her gaze away from him and looked at her watch, they had taken less time to get there than she had thought. Or at least less time than it felt they took to get here.
"Isn't it a bit early?" she asked, forgetting about his episode further back.
"I need the extra time" he replied.
Awrin exited the car and slowly began rummaging through the contents of the truck. Meanwhile, Lillian fumbled with the ring on her finger, which she has snuck on to every performance she had done since the beginning of high school. Even when her directors had ordered her to remove it, she found a way to smuggle it on her. Over the years it had solidified itself as a symbol of independence just as much as control. To be able to control one's emotions took years of training, years that Arwin had definitely invested in his profession, but she was still worried. Worried that he either lost his control over the years, or worse. Maybe he was in complete control.
Arwin jumped the last few steps leading to the entrance that all of the actors used to access backstage. Sometimes this passageway would be used in the middle of a performance in order to prevent messes of ensemble members trying to come backstage through the front of the stage. So basically, a more pretentious way of hiding people.
He propped open the door and shuffled inside, locating the familiar shape of Proctor, the stage manager, approaching him.
"You're early," Proctor shot at him, sounding as if this was what he expected, "Nobody else is here yet."
"I know," replied Arwin, as if in an attempt to conserve his words.
Proctor led him to the stage, speed walking a few paces ahead of what was necessary. He opened the costume room and pointed towards what Arwin immediately identified as his costume.
"I don't want to use it yet," he quickly told Proctor.
Proctor looked surprised. "Alright, whenever you want to get into it go on ahead, no one's stopping you."
"My props?" asked Arwin.
Proctor drifted over to the prop closet and gave a vague gesture to the contents inside, but it was enough for Arwin to locate his belongings. Grabbing what he needed, Arwin began walking towards the stage.
Proctor's face crumpled in perplexity. "What's the deal? Most of the actors I know do something before a show to get into character."
Arwin hauled the belt of plastic knives that went with his costume and answered the man without turning around,
"I already did"