It was fall in Idaho, and the leaves had abandoned the trees, congregating in big piles on the ground. Not winter yet, nevertheless the scent of snow was in the air. The days felt brisk and crackly, and everything seemed new and sharp. I had been back in school for a month or so, and was deeply in rehearsal for our college production of "Bus Stop," in which I played "Bo," the male lead. I knew most of the cast already, having been in many productions with them previously, and I was mostly comfortable with what I was called upon to do. I say "mostly" because the girl that was playing "Cherie," Vivian, was one I had never met before, and I couldn't figure her out at all.
Consistently after rehearsals, most of us went out or to one another's apartments and spent time together. Not Vivian, though. regardless of how often we would invite her or how much it appeared as though she would like to come along, she never did. She would leave after we were done every night, and we never saw her again until she came back to start again the next night.
Things were going well, though. Since we had all started rehearsals off book, which rarely happens in my experience with local and college productions, the show was quickly coming together. Several of us had come in hours before we were needed to work on the sets, and consequently they were nearly completed. The show itself is a simple one, and we were all pretty certain that we would be ready and sharp for opening night. In fact, there was only one little, niggling doubt in my mind, and that had to do with my ingénue.
There was a point in the play where Vivian and I were supposed to kiss, and we had been putting it off. For some reason, it just never seemed to be the right thing to do, and, apparently, we were both very uncomfortable with each other. While the director had been pushing at us for the better part of a week to just kiss and get beyond it, neither of us seemed to feel that we could go ahead. At least, that's how it played out in my head. I was wrong, of course, but I only found that out later. For my part, I only knew that I was not comfortable, and her ambivalence made me very willing to let it pass.
Late one evening about a week before opening, though, the director yelled at us when we ducked, and insisted that we sit down somewhere comfortable and neck. He shooed the rest of the cast out and sent them home to work on their lines, while Vivian and I remained there by ourselves on the set. The director sat in the house, center and about halfway back, and started the scene. We got to the kiss, and kind of dodged it. We tried again, and an actual kiss ensued, but from his groans, I'm sure that we looked about as passionate as Donald Trump kissing a trout. Over and over we tried until he finally yelled at us, told us to fix the fucking problem ourselves, and stomped out.
So there we were, thoroughly embarrassed, staring at each other as the door slammed in the back of the theatre. She looked at me, then stepped over to a barstool and sat down. I sat at a table, and we stared at each other. Finally, I just cracked, I guess. "What is it with you, huh? Do I suck that badly, or do you just think I look like shit?"
She looked very puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Look," I said, "We've been trying to do this forever, and I have never had a problem onstage like this before, so I have to proceed from the assumption that you find me personally as attractive as raw meat on a hot day."
She looked at the floor, then shook her head. "That's not true. I think you're terrific, and I love the way you're playing "Bo." I'm just feeling really confused, and it's bothering me a lot." She suddenly seemed sad and miserable.
"What are you confused about? What's so tough about this?"
"There's nothing particularly tough in the show. Cheri's pretty straight forward. It's just things…other stuff.." She shook her head and toyed with a ring on her hand.
