Page 68 of A Midsummer Night's Ghost

The garage door opened. “Did you fall in the garbage bin?” Jake asked, sticking his head out.

“No. I’m short, but not that short.”

“You’re definitely bin size. Are you vaping?”

“No.” I had quit but now that he mentioned it, the urge came creeping back in. “I’m going to stay strong, I swear.”

“I’m not judging.”

“I know. But I need to process my emotions.”

“What emotion are you feeling right now?”

I smiled at him. “Grateful. That’s what I’m feeling.”

I was. Life was a little chaotic, but nothing too crazy, by recent standards anyway.

It was all good.

SIXTEEN

I triedto hold onto the feeling as I tried to corral a dozen elderly adults.

“Opening Night” had arrived.

The actors were all backstage, getting dressed in makeshift costumes with Alyssa’s help. Even though the costumes were basically aprons and tunics and things that pulled over their heads, or wrapped around them, we were still getting a ton of complaints.

“This isn’t my color,” Sharon said, picking at the blue tunic she had on. “I’m an autumn.”

“Well, mine is scratchy,” Anne said, “so quit your whining.”

Alyssa gave me a long look.

“How’s yours Clifford?” she asked. He was resting in a chair, still recovering from his stab wound but quite the trooper.

“Huh?” he asked, before dragging his eyes away from Alyssa’s cleavage to meet her stare. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Absolutely wonderful, truth be told.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Let’s just stay focused.”

The auditorium was filling up with family members and I just wanted to get this over with and end my directorial debut as soon as possible.

“Alyssa, do you have a water bottle?” My throat was dry and I was having a hard time swallowing. I felt a cough coming on.

“No, you know I don’t take hydration seriously.” Alyssa attempted to fuss with Anne’s hair and got a hand slap for her efforts.

“I’m going to get something from the vending machine.”

“That thing will steal your money,” Sharon told me. “It never works.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

I went into the hallway and almost ran into Sara Murphy.

“Hey, girl!” she said, reaching out and giving me a big hug. “Ready to break a leg?”

Sara was dressed like she was going to brunch on a yacht. She had a sundress on, wedge sandals, and a giant floppy hat and sunglasses. Both her hat and the fact that she was here, but not directing this show, irritated me. If she could be here to watch the show, remind me again why wasn’t she directing it?

“Hi, how are you? I’m just running to get myself a drink real quick. My throat is so dry I think I’m about to have a coughing fit.”

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