"Is your brother moving to Texas with her?"
I shrug. "They haven't even slept together yet. I don't think he's about to move halfway across the country for her."
"It'd be romantic if he did, though," Jamie says, looking off into the distance. She snaps out of it quickly. "But completely illogical."
I rest easy with that thought. Hank is a romantic, but he's also a fan of reason and rational thinking; the man wears a cell phone hip holster, for God's sake. As much as I want him and Rachel to be happy, I don't know that I can have both my best friend and my brother move away from me at the same time.
Of course, when I see Hank later, I regret ever being so selfish as to wish him to stay here while Rachel moves away.
I had gone to Rachel's apartment to help her pack. She starts her new job in Austin on April 15. She's renting a moving van and driving down there just a few days after the opening of Jane Eyre and the Atmosphere. Hank has already bought tickets to the show for the two of them.
Rachel's just so sad right now. I wish there was something I could do to help her. She just roams between her apartment and mine while she's packing. Her mood keeps fluctuating. She'll find a picture of her and Carter and sob. Two minutes later, she'll discover an entire scrapbook from a summer vacation they took, and chuck it into a garbage bag so fast that you'd think it was covered in maggots.
Hank, who is helping her pack, isn't in much better spirits. Oh, he tries to be helpful. He has helped her find an apartment in Austin and every time she begins to get a little weepy about the prospect of moving, he starts rattling off what Austin has to offer. The man has done nothing the past week but research Austin, from the museums to the neighborhoods to the best food trucks. I swear, the way he waxes poetic about Austin's barbecue, it makes me rethink being a vegetarian.
But with every Austin Fun Fact he rattles off, I can see how much it hurts him to see Rachel pack up her life here in Kentucky.
After awhile, I sneak back down to my own apartment. I want to spend as much time as I can with Rachel before she leaves, but I think Hank needs this time more than I do.
Besides, I think to myself as I change into the sweatpants I stole from Adam, I still have a lot of sewing to do before the show. I'm down to the details on all the costumes. With the budget being practically non-existent, there aren't many bells and whistles to add, but between what I've swiped from the scraps at work and what I've donated from my own collection of notions, all the costumes will have at least a little something to offer the audience.
I don't know what I'm going to do once this show is over. As I look at the rack of costumes I've made over the past month, I have to wonder what I used to spend my time on because, obviously, I was not making the most of my free time.
Oh shit. Am I going to have to ask Jamie for time-management lessons?
Chapter Twenty-Four
I peek out from the edge of the curtain as the house lights blink a few times, a notice that the show starts in five minutes. The theatre is small and, with the house lights still up, I'm able to see every single face in the crowd. And I'm shocked to see my mother, boss, and coworker, along with my brother and best friend whom I knew were going to be here, in the first row. I told them all not to bother coming to this. I've watched the dress rehearsal. The cast and crew is talented, but the show is quite literally out of this world, and none of my friends or family do enough drugs to get what the director has put together.
And, oh my God, I used my boss' dress design in the show! I am a dead woman.
Hank's head turns to the curtain and he offers me a quick wave, not wanting to draw attention to me. I offer up a worried smile at him and, as I go to disappear back behind the curtain, I see Adam walk into the theatre. What is he doing here? How did he get a ticket? Opening night has been sold out since the day tickets went on sale. Apparently, everyone in this town appreciates a good train wreck.
Adam bought a ticket as soon as I told him I was designing the costumes, didn't he? Ugh, why did he have to be so great? Things would have been so much easier if he had continued to be a dick.
I duck back behind the curtain and hold tight to the red velvet as I collect my thoughts and feelings.
"Evie, can you tie this please?" the actress that plays Jane asks, holding up a silver ribbon.
"Yeah, of course," I say, taking a deep breath and letting go of the curtain. I tie the ribbon into a bow at the end of her braided hair.
"Perfect, thanks," she says and disappears behind the stage.
I move the curtain back one last time to look at the crowd. Adam is sitting next to Hank now. They have their heads together as they talk low. Rachel leans over Hank and becomes part of the conversation. Hank nods to the stage and I swing the curtain back before Adam or Rachel can see me.
I slink back to the tiny dressing room and wait for the characters to come and go from the stage. I inspect their costumes, help with a few costume changes (the beauty of having a small budget means that costume changes are infrequent), and compliment their performances. I play a few games of Go Fish with the little girl that plays Adele, as her parts in the show are few and far between. I stay distracted the best I can. Besides, I have seen so many rehearsals of this show, I can practically recite it in my sleep.
Sooner than I'd like, the audience is applauding. The show's over. As the cast comes backstage, I help them remove their costumes. I sort what needs to be cleaned from what can survive another night with a quick shot of fabric refresher. The lady that plays Bertha apologizes profusely for tearing the hem of her dress on a rough table corner, and I laugh. The dress is already tattered and worn; the tear she made tonight just makes the dress more perfect for her character.
The voices in the lobby have died down considerably when I'm finally able to go out and greet my family and friends. When I step into the lobby, I'm all but assaulted by everyone that came to see me. Mom plants a wet kiss on my cheek. Rachel gushes about the costumes and informs me that she has a lot of opinions on the show (I'd be afraid if she didn't). Jamie congratulates herself on setting me up with the tools and motivation to create a time-management system to complete the costumes. Connie gives me a tight hug and asks that I see her in her office first thing tomorrow morning (she recognized the dress as her design; I am so fired). Hank tells me how proud Dad would be of me.
"I'm proud of you too," he adds and gives me a tight hug.
"Thanks, Hank," I say into his shoulder. When he lets me go, I look down at my shoes as I ask, "What was Adam doing here?"
"He had a ticket," Hank says with a shrug. "I think you should talk to him."
"Yeah, he clearly wants that, seeing as how he's nowhere to be seen," I say with a hollow laugh. "It's okay, Hank. I'm doing fine. Really."
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. Even though I am fine. Mostly.
Once everyone has left, I go backstage and grab Connie's dress. If she's going to fire me, I'm at least going to make sure she sees how beautiful her design is in the process.
I walk across the stage and stop dead center. The house lights are still on as the theatre staff collects the discarded program booklets and bits of trash left behind. I've always preferred to be behind the scenes in every aspect of my life but, standing here, with the lights on me and rows of seats in front of me, I get the appeal of being seen.
I snag one of the programs on my way out. Once I'm in my car, I flip past the pages of advertisements and donor names and find the cast and crew list of Jane Eyre and the Atmosphere. My name is there, a few dots linking me to the title Head Costume Designer.
I may lose my job tomorrow for stealing a copy of my boss' dress design, but tonight? Tonight, I feel invincible.
***
I manage to beat both Connie and Jamie to the shop in the morning. I want to say that I planned it that way but, honestly, I couldn't sleep so I finally caved in, got ready, and came in to the shop at 5 a.m. It gave me plenty of time to dress a mannequin with Connie's gown, as well as prepare a short speech. I poked around the back room for the perfect veil, and even put together a selection of jewelry to match the gown.
When Connie does come in to work, I'm already seated in her office with a binder in my lap and the mannequin set up next to my chair.
"What is this?" Connie's expression is one that I can't read. As she circles the dress, I decide not to wait for her reaction.
"Please don't get angry," I say as I stand up, "but I wanted to show you how incredible your design was. I couldn't help myself."
She's silent.
I gulp and hand her the binder. "I also put together a look book of your other sketches. I selected fabric swatches for all the pieces and did a few close up drawings of details. I didn't want to step over your vision or anything like that, I just wanted you to see what you've created." I know that I sound way too rehearsed, but there's not other way to get the words out right now.
"How many dresses did you make?" she asks, her voice toneless. It terrifies me to my core.
"Just this one. I reconstructed it from a thrift store wedding dress."
Connie's eyebrows pop up. "You made this from an old dress?"