Love's Curtain Call

I was just sitting down to a microwave dinner (which was about the most I could afford then) when my phone started to ring. I sighed and stood up to go and answer it. I assumed it would probably be my mother, congratulating me on my degree yet again. At the time I was staying in a rented apartment. It was very small, and above a small shop in the city. It didn't have a proper oven - just a microwave. I'd been waiting to find some proper work for a couple of weeks.

"Hello?" I asked dryly, holding the hot meal packet in one hand, and the phone in the other.

"Is this Miss Kristen Puller?" a male voice asked in authority.

"Yes, it is," I said, putting down the hot meal, becoming more curious of who it was.

"Perfect!" he said happily. "You're not an easy person to find," he said, laughing slightly.

"Uh. . .who is this?" I asked, frowning slightly.

"Sorry, my name is Andrew Carter - I work at The New York Theatre."

I felt my heart stop for a second in my chest with excitement. The New York Theatre?

"The New York Theatre?" I asked, not believing him the first time.

"Yes, and we've heard a lot about you! We were wondering if you'd be interested in having one of the main roles in our next play. It's going to be huge."

". . .wow, of course I would! Would I have to audition first? And what's the play?" I asked, feeling my heart pound against my chest with the excitement. Was all my hard work finally paying off?

He laughed quietly. "That's great to hear. Yes, just come in and see us sometime. Ask for me - I'm doing the auditioning. How does tomorrow sound? Ah, the play. . .it's called 'Three Days of Rain'. It's a romantic tragedy. We're still looking for the leading lady. I think you'd fit the role perfectly."

I felt speechless. The leading lady in a play? Before I'd even thought it over for a second, the two words slipped out.

"I'm in."

"Perfect!" I could practically hear the smile in his voice. "Just come by some time tomorrow and we'll give you a copy of the script. You can have a read-through of it, and if you're still interested, then we'll just have a little audition, although I'm sure you'll be brilliant."

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then," I said, not being able to control the smile on my lips.

I hung up the phone and sat down to throw down my microwave meal - hopefully it would be the last I'd ever have to eat. Hopefully. . .

The next day, I found myself standing outside the theatre, staring at it in complete awe. The name of a current play was posted on its entrance, along with the names of the top two actors in it. That could be me, at some point, I thought, feeling nerves fill my stomach.

I pressed forward and stepped into the front door. There were only a few people inside - it was the middle of day, after all. One person standing next to where tickets would usually be sold took a step towards me, looking at me as if I was an intruder.

"Who are you?" they asked, looking confused.

"I'm. . .Kristen Puller. I'm here to see Andrew Carter."

"Oh, I see," they said, suddenly looking remorseful. "He should be in the theatre, just up there," he said, pointing towards a set of red-carpeted stairs.

"Oh, thank you," I smiled, and headed towards the stairs. As I walked away, I thought I heard him mutter something to one of the other employees, but I couldn't be sure. I forgot about it and headed for the theatre.

When I eventually reached it, having followed the stairs up, towards the large opening that looked down on the immensity that was filled with red seats, I couldn't help but gasp. I was both impressed and intimidated by it. The place was huge. There were several different levels of seats, along with a dozen or so boxes. Then there was the stage - in the middle of it all. It was much larger than the stage at the university, making me feel a little out of place.

It's rich, red curtains were open, pulled back to reveal a large set that had been left there after the last performance. It was of a dark street - possibly of London in the 19th century. The painting was incredibly realistic. And then there was the gold arch which rose up, around the stage. I was spellbound by it.

"Kristen?" a voice shouted, drawing my attention away from the stage. That's when I finally noticed - a man was standing just in front of it. I was surprised how his voice had managed to reach me from that far away.

"Andrew?" I shouted back.

"Yep, why don't you come down so we can stop shouting?" he asked, making me laugh.

I made my way down, between the many rows of red seats, until I reached the ground level. I kept walking until I was next to the stage, which rose over me in such an intimidating way. And there he was - standing a few feet from me with a smile on his face. He had quite short brown hair, and a typical director look, even though he only worked in the theatre. He couldn't have been older than his thirties.

"It's great to finally talk face to face," he said, stepping towards me, extending a hand. I shook it lightly, still trying not to stare at the immense stage.

"Yes, it is," I smiled.

"So, I have a copy of the play, if you want to read it through. . .and see if you're still interested," he said, sounding a little unsure.

"Don't worry - I'm very interested," I said, nodding.

He laughed a little, perhaps finding my choice of words a little odd, before he passed me a thick booklet which was stapled together. I took his from him and looked at the front. Sure enough, it said 'Three Days of Rain' on the cover in black print. I began to flick through the pages curiously.

"I'll give you some time to think it through before you audition," he said with a smile, before he walked off and seemed to disappear somewhere in the depths of the huge theatre.