My calves burned with an aching flame as I slowly lowered myself down onto the soft cushion of the living room sofa. The souls and heels of my feet felt worn and battered, as if I’d been skipping gleefully across coals for hours on end, and I’d then been cobbled back together with fibrous thread and a rusted needle. Every simple twitch of a muscle, flex of a toe, or stretch of a limb left me twisted in dull, aching, pain.
“What happened to you? Did you get hit by a car, or something?” Chris said gruffly from the other end of the sofa where he was scrolling through something on his laptop. His eyes lifted sceptically from his screen to look over my body and how I was strewn across the sofa like an aged rag doll. I’m a very attractive being, I know.
With considerable effort, I turned my head to look at him. “Elphaba practice with Liss,” I puffed out with careful breaths as to not stretch my muscles so. I’d completely forgotten what it felt like to feel pain in the muscles which wrapped around my ribs.
“The fake Elphaba girl?”
I nodded, not in the mood to correct him right now. “We did an hour of practice at lunch and then three more after work. Why’d you think I was back so late? It’s almost nine.”
Chris shrugged. “Like I said, I thought you got hit by a car. I was almost concerned for you and was gonna ring Carrie if you weren’t back by next week or so.” He repositioned his laptop on his lap and started to scroll again, dismissing me.
I sighed and leant back into the support of the sofa, gently testing my leg and feet muscles to see if I was capable of getting back up again anytime soon. Despite my four hours of practice today, I’d stopped in on an Indian takeaway shop on the way home to get dinner for Chris and me. He’d only complain otherwise. This food was resting on the kitchen sideboard at the moment. Chris only had to use some initiative to go and get the food if he wanted it. I just wanted to nap for a little while.
I suppose I sounded a little ungrateful for Liss’ help, which I honestly wasn’t. Liss, in all of her sugar sweet aesthetic glory, had been able to give me so many more opportunities to learn about a real theatre production by just hanging out with her for four hours. She was just a very encouraging and focussed teacher and I felt like I’d progressed a lot already.
“I know you haven’t done this in a while, Jamie, but you really need to project your singing,” she’d said to me as we’d stood alone on the stage at lunch. Today, Liss had been wearing a cream button-down shirt with a gathered front, paired with a knee-length black circle skirt. Once again, she looked like she’d taken clothing inspiration from the sixties. Either that or she was meant to be performing for ‘Hairspray’ rather than Wicked. Her blonde hair was even tied back in this fancy ponytail which had a small swirl at the top of her hairband. It was only a little bit degrading to see her looking like that when I was darting about on stage with a messy ponytail and wearing a giant Bastille t-shirt and leggings.
“What should I sing?” I asked her as she slowly walked along the edge of the stage before me, her steps barely wobbling even in her large heels. We’d already gone through some vocal warm-up exercises where she’d given me a minute lecture about singing from my abdomen, so apparently this meant that I was ready.
“Try ‘No Good Deed’. Perform it as if everyone you love and care for is seated in the audience, listening especially to little you,” she said calmly. She paused at the far edge of the stage to my right. “I’ll go and stand in the audience and I want to hear you from all the way at the back if you can do that.” Liss began to trot down the steps leading down from the stage before striding off into the rows of dark seats which filled up the theatre.
“But they wear microphones!” I yelled after her, feeling like I was on the verge of a toddler tantrum with every exaggerated word. “Stage actors don’t have to be heard from the very back!”
“I can’t hear you! Sing to the best of your ability!”
I huffed slightly whilst I watched my ‘tutor’ lean up against the furthest row of seats that she could access from this level. Liss smiled at me encouragingly, waving her fingers at me in a ‘go on’ motion. Seeing as I didn’t have any music to accompany me, this felt more than a little fake. I had to admit that a small part of me was still kind of doubtful as to why Liss was helping me with this. Other parts of me were in disbelief at my luck whereas otherwise, I just felt completely lost as to what was going on.
I cleared my throat and started to mumble the chant which Elphaba sang at the beginning of the song:
“Eleka nahmen nahmen
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen
Eleka nahmen nahmen
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen-”
Liss shook her head and waved her hands above her head to get my attention. “Nope. I know this is awkward and a little bit embarrassing, Jamie, but that’s no reason to mutter as if you’re being forced to say something you’d rather not…like promising your parents that you’ll eat a proper meal whilst they’re out for the evening: ‘no, Mum, I won’t eat Nutella straight from the jar.’ See? Now try again. Keep going but be louder, be more brash.”
My thumb ring slowly circled around my thumb as I fiddled with it. It had been all too long since I’d sang to an audience, but then to me, a day without singing in some form felt like a wasted day. My first audition here had been exactly two weeks ago and being back on that stage only to practice being Elphaba for my own love it rather than it being for a potential job was soul destroying. I didn’t want to have another day or week just wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing but here I was anyway: unlocking that chest of negative thoughts to let them attack and wreak havoc in my head.
“Well? We don’t have long, Jamie!”
I gave a small cough and tried to sing again, only to be stopped short once more as soon as I got to the end of the first line. My heart felt like a deflated party balloon as I let the note I’d been singing peter out into suffocating silence. It felt like I’d failed Liss before I’d even started singing properly.
“Okay, okay,” Liss said in a breathy tone. Comfortingly, her patience appeared to be holding strong. “You’re very good at singing, which we both knew already, but you’re not using this energy and forcing your vocals onto the audience in this gift of beautiful music.” She walked down one of the isles in the audience to come three rows closer to me where she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should picture everyone who has ever posed as some form of competition for you sat in the audience right now. You want to show off your talent and make them quiver in their shoes at how much of a threat you are. Try that.”
All of the girls from the Elphaba auditions, snobby children from my childhood, my beloved siblings, and even people who I’d have to identify as complete strangers seemed to grow in the audience when I looked at the red seats with my mind’s eye. I knew that I was a very competitive person, but I hadn’t expected so many imaginary people to spontaneously appear from my own thoughts.
Upon mentally checking the faces of these people, the faces of Mia and Carrie blurred into place with their features being all blobby and splotchy like a runny watercolour painting. How could they be rivals for me? With Carrie, I guess there’s how she’s so successful and I want to do as well as her. That would be healthy competition. But Mia? What could I be competing with her for?
I shoved these thoughts from my mind as I braced my legs and took a few deep, anticipation soaked, breaths before I let myself sing.
“Let his flesh not be torn
Let his blood leave no stain
When they beat him
Let him feel no pain
Let his bones never break
And however they try
To destroy him
Let him never die:
Let him never die:…”
Liss had this sweet little smile on her lips for a millisecond or so as I gradually ended the song, and that made my heart feel air light and hopeful. I really wanted this.
This high of singing a few songs with Liss’ guidance was diminished when I had to do a few hours of onstage work with the lights and finishing touches to the set. The set was practically completed now after the designers and workers had been preparing for it for nearly two months and working on it for two weeks. The cogs were mounted on the walls and dusted with fake cobwebs, a fake dragon’s head was mounted at the head of the stage and licked with copper paint, the stairs were stable, and the whole stage looked like the inside of a clock with all of the interlocking mechanics and fake valves and pistons. It was quite steampunk in design, actually.
The only thing that I had left to contribute to the stage was wiring the lights which would sit inside some of the cogs. This was a job I did with Max and one of her assistants who I’d been yet to learn the name of, but apart from that, everyone else who usually helped on set had finished working here last week. I hadn’t known this last week, otherwise I might have said goodbye to some people. In all honesty, I was glad to see the back of the Droids and their snooty airs. As for everyone else, I’d been quite cut off from them by working in my little room in the back whilst I’d pitied myself and refused to talk to anyone else. It was a waste of opportunity which I regretted.
I found out that the majority of the set workers would be moving on to work with different theatres and stage companies in set design once they’d completely finished here. I, on the other hand, was going to stay here as part of the deal I had with the company. This was partly due to my naïve hope when I’d initially applied to work here that I’d definitely get the Elphaba role. And yet, I was kind of happy that I would be staying on here with a select few to be the main stage and set organisation. Despite the crushing guilt and despair that I occasionally felt towards seeing the girls who’d made it to the final stage of being Elphaba, I had to realise how lucky I was to be in the position where I could work with a real theatre company to produce my all-time favourite musical in my own country. I had to be grateful for that. I had to accept that this was my job, that this was what I was doing with my life until the next opportunity arose. It was a difficult thing to accept, especially when Liss was tutoring me and reminding me of all of what could have been every day.
Whilst trying to reinforce this mind-set in my head, I continued to work until my afternoon’s work was through, and even then, I spent the next three hours after that learning some new dances with some of the people in the show’s dance group that had been persuaded to teach me some steps and routines by Liss. Apparently Liss wanted to both see what my dancing capabilities were, test my fitness, and also see how I fared under pressure by forcing me into doing something unexpected like dancing for the first time in just over a month. This was why I was struggling to breathe now that I was home again.
I took a staggered breath as I slowly sunk down deeper into the stuffing of the sofa, my body slipping further down towards the floor. Work was almost fun now but I couldn’t help but wish I was on stage for a real reason. I guess I’d always be yearning for that thrill.
Chris, who’d remained at my side throughout my daydream and flashbacks of my day, prodded me in the hip with his foot. “Hey, Princess, you okay? You look like you’re having a horrible vision.”
I licked my lips and flexed my aching feet. “I’m good. Just tired.”
“Right… I don’t suppose you’re hungry too, are you? I bet you forgot to get food. Again. I knew I should have sent you a text to remind you.”
“I wouldn’t have got your message anyway ‘cos my phone died,” I mumbled. I wasn’t going to mention that it had died because I’d forgotten to charge it last night after my Skype call with Maddie seeing as I’d been a little side-tracked by Maddie’s completely untrue deductions about Chris and me. I’d left my phone to charge in my room on the way in here. “And just so you know: you’re such a prick!” I laughed half-heartedly. I felt like I had to make an effort to ease the tension I’d felt spring up between us as soon as I’d thought about what Maddie had said. I shoved his leg away from me whilst he snickered. “Just because you can’t be bothered to get off your lazy ass and make a sandwich or something, you expect me to bring food to you like a fucking servant? Screw you.”
He lifted one corner of his mouth up at me in a mocking half smile. “Well it is your night to make dinner.”
“Try the kitchen.”
My flatmate hoisted himself up off the sofa, set his laptop carefully down in the seat he’d vacated, and then lumbered from the room towards the kitchen. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he wandered into the room, closely followed by happy mumblings and the rustling of plastic bags. He was like an overgrown child.
I was about to call after him asking if he’d bring my portion of food through for me when a ‘ping’ noise distracted me. I closed my mouth and slowly swivelled my eyes to look around the room to try and find the source of the noise. The only thing that I knew could make that sound was a text tone on an iPhone, which seemed a little out of place as it definitely hadn’t been my phone and Chris’ phone was nowhere in sight.
The message tone sounded again, peaking my interest now. I forced my strained body to cooperate with me and moved to crouch on the floor beside the sofa, my eyes running up and down the length of the floor that I was stooped over like a predator stalking its next victim. Again, there was a pinging sound which echoed in the air for a second, which I hastily tried to pinpoint.
I ducked down so that my ear was flat to the floor as I turned my head towards the underside of the sofa. Much to my glee, I saw the muted glow of an iPhone under the darkened crook of the sofa underside. With a scrabbling hand, I reached out and retrieved the phone.
The case for the phone was the Becca one I’d used for the ‘I Can’t Even’ show of Hunger Games actors, One Direction members, flowers, and hearts arranged in an artsy collage, so obviously the phone belonged to Chris. He really had to look after his belongings a little better. I sighed out a mixture of boredom and relief that I could now shut the phone up as I hefted myself back up onto the sofa to collapse there once more and relieve my aching leg muscles of my weight.
Out of sheer habit, I found myself clicking the home button on the phone, much like I would whenever I picked up my own phone. I cringed at my action and was just about to lock the phone and pretend that nothing had ever happened before Chris got back, when I saw all of the messages he’d received over the past hour and hadn’t checked. Oddly, all of them were from Carrie:
“I bet she’s on her way back right now, please don’t worry. Let me know when she gets back.x”
“But seriously are you okay? Has something happened?x”
“Is Jamie back yet? Is she okay?x”
“Has she called?x”
“Liss said that she and Jamie were working late and that she’s sorry for keeping her. Hope this helps.x”
“You okay, Chris?x”
Countless questions were spawning in my head and each one seemed to make the next beat of my heart appear more distant than the last. My heart felt like it was slowly shutting down. They’d been worried about me? Or more accurately, Chris had been worried about me and had actually contacted Carrie? He’d joked about it, but he’d really done it? If he had been this worried then why had he been so dismissive when I’d returned home? He was worrying about me as a friend, that had to be all it was. It couldn’t be anything else.
“Are you gonna eat, your highness? I’m not bringing it to you!” Chris called out joyfully from the kitchen, the sounds of a fork scratching against a plate evident in the pauses of speech he took.
I tucked Chris’ phone behind one of the cushions he’d previously been leaning back on as I slowly rose up from my seat, my mind frazzled as I walked towards Chris and the food in a daze. I scarcely looked at Chris as we sat together at the small dining table at the far end of the kitchen but this didn’t stop Chris from chatting to me.
“Are you going to tell me what your blog’s called yet? It’s been two weeks and you still haven’t told me.”
I shook my head at him and mushed the huddled mounds of rice into the amber sauce on my plate with the back of my fork.
“Have you got this month’s money for rent? We’ll have to pay it soon.”
I nodded.
“What sort of things did you do at work today?”
I shrugged.
I could feel his eyes on me. “Um, Princess? You okay?” he said quietly as if he were worried that someone would hear him being somewhat nice to me.
“I- I don’t feel well,” I mumbled, setting my fork down and letting my eyes roam over the grooves and lines in the wood of the table. “You can have my dinner. Night.” I silently eased back my chair and stumbled from the room. I had to support myself on the walls of the hallway once or twice in the walk I took to retreat to the safety of my room and curl up on my bed with Eeyore. I seemed to spend a lot of my time in this flat trying to console myself with the help of my childhood cuddly toy, but then I’d felt like I’d had more than enough reasons to warrant those reactions each time.
I should be happy. Chris might like me in a non-platonic way, which would mean the world to me if it were true. But then I’d remember RandomStickz and how I’d tried to get them together, how they were so perfect. Had I sabotaged my own plan? Ruined it?
I was divided, split right down the middle in my decision on what I should do. Should I follow my initial thoughts and feelings towards making RandomStickz happen, or follow my developing thoughts and feelings about Chris and, well, me? I’ve heard people saying that love is a battle between the heart and the mind, but what about one half of the heart against the other? One side of me was getting unreasonably excited about the RandomStickz moments I’d been able to witness whereas the other side of me was swooning over little scenarios which played out in my head involving me and Chris. I wanted to help Chris and Mia, but I also wanted to selfishly help myself. Were Dan and Mia really so different? They could be happy and Mia was actually worrying about very little. And yet, Mia and Chris could be more suited for each other.
Before now, back at the YouTube Creator Space, I’d felt guilty about my extreme RandomStickz shipping methods, and now, I felt riddled with guilt, confusion, hatred, love, and an all-consuming sadness which just left me wanting to cry a little about the stupid situation I’d managed to trap myself in.
A pinging sound much like the ones I’d heard from Chris’ phone just moments ago sounded from behind me. I sniffed and rolled over to look at my phone and where it was laid charging on my bedside. The screen was lit up with a notification from my blog alongside a few banners notifying me that I had missed calls and messages from Carrie, Chris, and Liss.
I slowly lifted an arm up to pull my phone towards me. I held my phone above my head as if I were showing off a new-born lion cub to the animal kingdom whilst I checked to see what the notification from my blog was. I needed the distraction from my own life now. I just wanted to escape into my online identity as Thorn: the blogger who’d been neglecting her blog in an attempt to fix her oh-so-stupid offline life.
I had a private message from someone who’d stumbled across my blog. At seeing the length of the message, I immediately started to read it in the hopes of distracting myself.
“Dear Thorn,
I’ve been reading your blog for a few years now and I noticed that a week or so ago you asked for your reader’s advice on how we deal with breakups and the ups and downs of the romantic world. As helpful as I found your post and the comments, I have a situation which I’d like your personal opinion and advice for, because I really don’t know who else to turn to.
After reading your posts, I’ve gathered that you know a fair bit about the world of love, or at least, that’s what comes across in the way you talk about it. So, hopefully you’ll be able to advise me on what I should do about this:
I’m in love with someone. He’s not a stranger that I’ve seen in the streets or a member of a world famous boy band, but he’s someone I’ve been in love with for well over a year now. He’s amazing. We have so much in common: he makes me laugh, he goes out of his way to talk to me when we’re in a group setting, and he’s absolutely stunning to look at. The problem is that he’s engaged to someone who’s equivalent to a dragon’s hoard of gold, whereas I’m the rust which solidly clings to a battered copper coin. I can never have him, and its life destroying. I can hardly talk to him anymore because I just remember how perfect she is.
Please, Thorn, can you help me to think of a way of moving on from this guy? I can’t stop thinking about him and I’m going to his wedding within the next month. I know you probably get a lot of these messages but please.
I love your blog and hope that you keep writing :)
From Anonymous.”
Heat bled from my eyes as I slowly set my phone down on my bedspread. If anything, at least I knew that I wasn’t the only person who felt completely isolated and alone in the world of love. At least I wasn’t the only person having completely pointless feelings towards another. My lower lip wobbled as I felt sadness leak from the corners of my eyes and make my eyeliner run in black streams. I’d never sympathised so much for a stranger. This anonymous person and I were the emotionally broken and wounded; the world’s unloved ones.
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A/N: Hello peoples *waves*
Okay, this update is a few days early because it has been ready for three or so days now and I'm a bit busy at the weekend and won't have time to upload then so... tadah! Note: this isn't a new uploading day for me, this is kind of a one off (sorry) :(
Oh, I got Twitter for anyone who's interested in following me on there. I don't tweet much as I mostly just talk to @Beckyisaleopard and @LesterMeAtSix from here at the moment, but I'd love to chat to and follow back as many of you as possible (if I can) whether on here or in the twitter DMs. My Twitter is @EmzDoesntKnow. Who knows, I may even do some QandAs if anyone's interested in me doing those...
And you may have noticed that I changed the title for this story from being 'The New Procrastinator' to 'Procrastinators on Stage'. I think the new title is more fitting and that it also links with the titles of the other Procrastinator books a little better.
Please comment and vote on my story, and I hope you have had, and will have, a fantastic week :)
*salutes*
Em >^-^<