We do a few group exercises first. The others have spent the last couple of weeks, while I wasn’t there, working on Juliet’s visit to the friar, when he gives her the potion that will send her to sleep for three days, so that she can fake her own death. Luckily, Romeo doesn’t feature. To make up for it, though, my first scene with Eleanor today is one of the most intense.
Despite going over my lines earlier, now, while I roam the gloomy Verona churchyard and discover Juliet’s lifeless body in one of the tombs, I feel like I’ve forgotten everything.
My head is blank, my thoughts are silent, and I’ve missed this. The effect that acting has on me. It still works. Even though I know that dozens of pairs of eyes are fixed on me. Including those of the person I wouldn’t hurt for anything in the world.
I kneel on the floor beside Eleanor and touch her. My heart beats faster and my breath quickens because I’ve been runningand I’m in a panic. Because Romeo is hoping that what they’re saying in Verona – that Juliet’s dead, poisoned, buried – isn’t true. How can she be simply not here, despite her promises? Oh, man, it feels like shit, and all at once I could weep because I’m no longer acting the emotions, I’mfeelingthem. They’re suddenly there.
‘“Juliet?”’ I whisper. Then I repeat her name, more loudly. ‘“Look at me, my love, come on.”’ Eleanor’s body is heavy, her head falls back as I lift her slightly and my despair is genuine. Because when I remember how Tori just keeled over in my arms, the sheer terror makes me sick. I force myself not to repress it any longer, but to feel it. The panic that drives hot tears to my eyes and makes my chest clench. ‘“My God, Juliet . . . Don’t do this, OK? Look at me, for heaven’s sake, look at me. Say it’s not true. Tell me so.”’
But she says nothing and her eyes stay shut. My fingers shake, my voice is choked. I lower my head.
‘“You’re already cold.”’ You could have heard a pin drop. I force myself not to look into the auditorium, but then I do. Just for a split second. Tori is tense in her seat, leaning forward. She’s gripping her pen and her lips are parted a touch. I think about her as I look away. ‘“Simply open your eyes once more and I’ll be the happiest man in all Verona. Damn it, if only I could feel your lips on mine, just once more.”’ My voice breaks as I lean over Eleanor. She doesn’t move as I raise her face to mine. ‘“One last kiss, my love. With my lips I seal a bargain with deceitful death.”’
I lay my thumbs on her lips and turn her head away slightly before I kiss her. I know that it looks more real than it feels. Eleanor doesn’t move. The way Tori didn’t move.
‘“Here, here will I remain, among the dead, if this is the only place that I can be close to you. Juliet, I’m coming to you – without you, everything is senseless. I will be with you soon, do not be afraid, my love.”’
My hands shake as I let go of Eleanor’s head.
A moment later, there’s a thump. I freeze, and Eleanor groans, blinking, her face twisted with pain. There’s a moment’s silence. I hold my breath. Then we break into hysterical laughter.
‘Fuck, sorry.’ I reach for her again as she straightens up. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘I’ll live,’ she murmurs.
‘Gently, Charles, if you please!’ Mr Acevedo calls, but I only have eyes for Tori. She’s laughing, and she’s gorgeous. ‘Juliet may be dead, but you don’t have to fracture her skull too.’
‘Shit, I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry.’ I clear my throat and look back at Eleanor.
‘It’s OK.’ She rubs the back of her head. ‘There’s quite a bump, but the things we do for art . . .’
The others laugh.
‘Nonetheless, that was very powerful, Charles. That’s exactly how I would like to see this scene on the night. Just be a little more careful with Juliet’s head.’ He looks around. ‘Any further comments?’
Tori nods. ‘Make sure you don’t drop your voice too much. I could hear you from the front row, but I think even with microphones, it would be pretty tricky from further back.’
I nod. ‘OK, true.’
‘But it was good. Both of you, you were very good.’
‘Thank you.’
Tori smiles. I analyse it and come to the conclusion that it’s not forced.
‘So, let’s continue.’
I try to pull myself together and get back into character. These might be the most important scenes in the whole play and I get the feeling we’re rocking them. We really are good.
I fight my last duel with County Paris, who was supposed to marry Juliet. He comes into the tomb and I kill him beforedesperately kissing the remnants of poison from her lips. When that fails to work, I drink my own. I speak my last line, kiss the last kiss, and I’m not even thinking now as I die beside her. I’d never have expected that it would be so much harder to lie motionless on this stage and keep my eyes closed than to take an active role.
Suddenly, everything seems to be taking ages. Eleanor wakes up beside me, full of hope, until she sees me and the friar tells her what happened. It requires every bit of my self-control not to react in any way as I feel Eleanor’s hands on my shoulders and face. She’s so good that, even though I can’t see her, I get goosebumps. Her sobs, her despair, they’re all real. However much I deserve it, she doesn’t drop my head. On the contrary. Her every touch is gentle. Her fingertips are as soft as Tori’s. I’m only thinking about Tori – and I only realize too late what a mistake that is.
When Eleanor thrusts my dagger into her ribs and collapses on top of me with a hoarse cry, it’s fatal. I was already turned on by my thoughts and her heavy, warm body on top of me is not exactly helping.
Fuck . . .
I’m burning up, and I can only pray that the denim of my jeans is thick enough that Eleanor won’t feel anything. This is so bloody awkward, and if it wouldn’t wreck the scene, I’d roll onto my side slightly so that . . .
