All's Well: A Novel by Mona Awad

Author:Mona Awad [Awad, Mona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781982169664
Google: eBQ3EAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1982169664
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2021-08-02T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

AFTERNOON THE NEXT day. Ellie stands in the doorway of my office, looking pale and afraid.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Fitch?” She looks at me sitting on top of my desk. Legs crossed, the top leg swinging. Smiling at her in such welcome.

“Ellie,” I sing. I’m always singing these days. “There you are. Come in, come in. Shut the door behind you, please? Wonderful. Have a seat,” I say, and I point to the empty chair with the toe of my new pointed boot.

Obediently, she takes the chair. I look at her sitting there, clutching her canvas bag, lank hair that I want to brush away from her face. I notice her hands are shaking. Has playing Helen all these weeks in rehearsal given her no confidence?

“And how are you finding rehearsal these days?” I ask her gently.

Ellie stares at my crossed legs in their spiked heels. “Good, Professor,” she says.

“Ellie, it’s Miranda. Call me Miranda, please.”

“Miranda.”

“You know, of course, why I wanted to see you today?” I say to her.

She shakes her head. “No, Prof—I mean, Miranda.”

“No?” Really, Ellie? “Well, as you know, we’re at that time of year again.”

I gesture to the window and smile. Budding branches. Pale green leaves. Spring. Spring, does she see that? A time when everything is in bloom. Everything is having sex. Everything is so damp and fragrant and fuckable. Showtime, in other words. Right around the corner.

She nods nervously. Yes. Yes, she sees that.…

“Given that we’re at this point in the production timeline, opening night not too far away, and our lead still…” I feel a smile creep across my face as I say this. I bite my lip, attempt to appear mournful. “Absent.”

Ellie nods sadly. Yes.

“I’ve had to make some difficult decisions.”

I stand up; I pace the floor to demonstrate the difficulty. My new boots click along the floor. Haven’t taken them off since I bought them. Drove to the mall one night. Skipped into the shop. Said to the shoe man, I’d love a pair of leather boots. With a heel, please. High. Spiked.

She looks at me, suddenly very alert. “Decisions?” Ellie says. “What sort of decisions?”

I spin around deliciously. Hop up onto my desk again. Easy. So very easy to hop and spin these days. I recross my legs of flesh. Not concrete anymore, flesh. I look at my Helen and smile.

“Casting decisions, Ellie.”

I watch Ellie hold her breath. She knows. She’s waiting for it.

“Ellie, I’d like for you to play Helen. For this year’s production.”

She closes her eyes. Lowers her head.

“Me,” she whispers.

“You’re perfect for the role, Ellie. You make Helen’s pain, her love, her loss, her determination, your own.”

Ellie says nothing. She’s still looking at the floor. Her hands are still trembling.

“Ellie, surely you could see this was coming? It’s your fault, really.”

Suddenly she looks up at me, white with fear.

“My fault?”

“For being so wonderful. For being so luminous. Truly I’ve never seen Helen so luminously played. We’re all riveted by it every afternoon. I know I am.

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