Willem enters the stage. “As I remember . . .” he begins as Orlando.
Kate breathes a sigh of relief. She hasn’t oversold it.
• • •
It is better than last night. Because there are no walls. No illusions. This time, they know exactly who they are speaking to.
“The little strength that I have, I would it were with you”.
She is his Mountain Girl.
“What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind?”
No more pretending. Because he knows. She knows.
“Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.”
She believes. They both do.
“I would kiss before I spoke.”
The line is a kiss. Their kiss.
“For ever and a day.”
For ever and a day.
• • •
“Holy shit,” David says to Kate when it is over.
Kate thinks I told you so, but doesn’t say anything.
“And this is the hitchhiker you gave a ride to in Mexico?”
“I keep telling you, he wasn’t a hitchhiker.” David has been giving her grief about giving a ride to a stranger for months now. Kate keeps reminding him that all people are strangers, initially. “Even you were a stranger to me once,” she’d said.
“I don’t care if he was three-legged ape,” David says now. “He’s unbelievable.”
Kate smiles. She loves lots of things, but she especially loves to be right.
“And he wants to apprentice with us?”
“Yep,” Kate says.
“We can’t keep him off a stage for long.”
“I know. He’s green. The training will do him good. And then we can sort out union issues and get him up there.”
“He’s really Dutch?” David asks. “He has no accent.” He stops for a second. “Listen to that. They’re still applauding.”
“Are you jealous?” Kate teases.
“Should I be?” David teases back.
“That boy is hopelessly in love with some American girl he found and lost in Paris. As for me, I’m hopelessly in love with some stranger I met five years ago.”
David kisses her.