The Balcony

 "I need a balcony that isn't a balcony," Kate Jameson said.

"A balcony that isn't a balcony," Jane Miller said. "Just to be clear on the parameters; is there anything else the balcony can't be?"

Kate seemed to seriously consider the question, leaving Jane to think that she really needed to work on her sarcasm. 

"Just not a balcony," Kate said, leaving Jane literally at the drawing board just two weeks before opening night. 

Bereft of non-balcony ideas, Jane sharpened her drawing pencils. It was a time-honored feature of her procrastination practice. Everything starts with a sharpened pencil and nothing starts without one. Or so she told herself when her brain was as blank as the paper on her desktop.

She would have left the job at Ophelia's Opera House a year ago except for the fact that her parents had predicted she would fail miserably; that she would most certainly and ultimately live to regret choosing a life in the theater. As unhappy as she was with where her life was going at the moment, she couldn't bear accepting that they might have been right. She couldn't admit they were right because doing so came with a price; acknowledging that her childhood dreams, her hopes and aspirations, were dead. 

Not to mention the federally designated disaster area that was her personal life. That was reason enough to avoid her mother and the inevitable questions about Nate and why they broke up and maybe she should give him one more chance. 

In truth, she had begun to doubt herself. Was she an artist? Did she have any talent at all? For now, the only answer she had was to not give up. She simply couldn't give up. Not yet. Beginning chest compressions, she thought. Don't you die on me! She lined up her sharpened pencils and began to consider the universe of all things not a balcony.

"I can't work like this!" Beatrix Olson's plaintive voice preceded her as she flew into the converted closet that served as Jane's office. "Do you still have that bottle of vodka in your bottom desk drawer?"

"It's 9:30 in the morning," Jane said.

"Then it's 5:30 in Paris," Beatrix said, holding up the bottle triumphantly before taking a ferocious swig.

"I take it Kate visited the costume shop after she came by to see me?" Jane asked.

Beatrix nodded. "Flannel," she said. 

"Flannel?" Jane asked.

"Flannel. Blue plaid for the Capulets and red plaid for the Montagues. And bib overalls. That's the design aesthetic she gave me for 'Romy and Juliet.' Flannel and biballs are not an aesthetic. They're a cliche." She capped the bottle. "Like my drinking problem."

"Wait. 'Romy and Juliet' is still set in modern day Cleveland, isn't it? She didn't change the setting to Oklahoma when I wasn't looking, did she?" Jane asked.

"Yeah, 'Romy and Juliet' are still star-crossed lesbians living and tragically loving in Cleveland," Beatrix said. "In flannel and biballs."

Jane held out her hand. "Gimme." Beatrix gave her the bottle and Jane took a quick sip. "I wouldn't want you to drink alone." 

"I appreciate your concern for my health and well-being," Beatrix said.

Jane handed the bottle back to Beatrix who turned to put it back in the bottom desk drawer, thought better of it, and took one more drink.

"So," Beatrix said, noting the blank drawing paper and neatly arranged pencils on Jane's desk. "What did she do to you?"

"She wants a balcony that isn't a balcony," Jane said. "You know. For the Balcony Scene. A scene so famous it's known to anyone familiar with Shakespeare as the Balcony Scene. A scene so famous that when you hear anyone refer to the Balcony Scene, you immediately know the play they're talking about. Yeah. No balcony."

"I'd say something caring and consoling that shows my empathy for your situation but all I can think about right now is flannel," Beatrix said. "And biballs."

Kate stuck her head in the doorway to Jane's office. "Quick production meeting in five!" she said and was about to disappear as quickly as she'd appeared when she noticed the vodka bottle in Beatrix's hand.

Beatrix noticed Kate noticing the bottle and held it up. "I've been looking for props for the apothecary. I'll remove the label, of course," she said.

"Good!" Kate said, turned to go and stopped. "Don't remove the label. You've given me an idea. Thanks!" And with that, Kate was gone. From the hallway Beatrix and Jane heard her call out, "Five minutes!"

"Poor Juliet," Jane said. "Apparently, you won't be the only one with a drinking problem."

Beatrix considered the bottle in her hand. "Don't you think, given the play's modern spin, or post-modern spin, or post-post-post-modern spin… Is the room spinning?"

"No, but you are," Jane said.

"Right," Jane said. "My point is, wouldn't you go with opioids instead of alcohol?"

"You are talking about the play, right?" Jane asked.

"What? Yes! Of course I'm talking about the play!" Beatrix said. She considered the bottle then drained it. "Besides, a drinking problem is so F. Scott Fitzgerald. All braces and cufflinks. Opioids are just meth with a dental plan."

"Well, when you put it like that," Jane said. "Happy to be playing for Team Alcohol."

Beatrix heaved an overly loud and dramatic sigh. "We should get going. Don't want to be late for Kate's production meeting. Have you got an Altoid or a Tic-Tac?"

"Same drawer as the vodka," Jane said.

"Smart," Beatrix said.

*****

Jane jumped in her chair, shaken from dark thoughts about a life lived without hopes and dreams. It was Kate, standing in the doorway to her office. "You scared me," Jane said.

"I'm sure you meant I startled you," Kate said with a smile. "I can't imagine anyone being scared of me."

"Of course, yes, startled," Jane said, wondering how Kate could be so self-unaware. She wondered if all bosses were confused by the twitchy cowering of their underlings?

"How are you doing?" Kate said, nodding at the open laptop in front of Jane. "Any thoughts on the alternative balcony?"

"A bridge," Jane said. "The Hope Memorial Bridge."

"A bridge," Kate said.

"A bridge overcomes challenges and a bridge connects," Jane said. "I think the symbolism works for us."

"And you can jump off of one," Kate said.

"Well, yes, I hadn't really thought of it that way but -" Jane said.

"It's perfect!" Kate said.

"It's perfect?" Jane asked. 

Kate tilted her head to one side. "Are you okay?"

Jane quelled the impulse to say 'I'm fine.' "It's just…"

"Just what?" Kate asked.

"It's the Balcony Scene," Jane said. "I mean, I get the modern day lesbian lovers conceit -"

"Concept," Kate corrected. "It isn't a conceit. Think about this in context. Shakespeare's Globe Theater company was essentially a men's theater collective; we're a women's theater collective. But while they happily put young men in wigs and dresses, I refuse to have my actors put on mustaches just because the part was originally played by a man."

Jane had heard Kate's elevator pitch for Ophelia's Opera House before; too many times to count, in fact. "Right," Jane said. "I get that. But modern day lesbians have balconies, too. It's not like balconies have been eliminated from the lexicon of architecture. I mean. It's an iconic scene."

"And I'm an iconoclast," Kate said. "And I want you to be one, too. What are you afraid of?"

Everything, Jane thought. I'm afraid I'll fail. I'm afraid I'll be mocked. I'm afraid my dream could not be sustained by what little - if any - talent I may have. I'm afraid I'm a hack, a cliche at best. I'm afraid of moving back in with my parents. I'm afraid of getting married and settling down - I'm afraid of settling. "I don't know," she said.

Kate smiled. "When can you have some designs I can look at?"

Jane considered the image on her laptop screen. "I'll have something for you by end of day."

"Perfect! I'll see you then!" Kate said. She turned to go but stopped in the doorway, then stepped back in and closed the door behind her.

"Am I in trouble?" Jane asked.

"What? No!" Kate said. "No. I just wanted to let you know that we know you've been going through some things -"

"Everybody's going through something," Jane said.

"Nate was an a-hole," Kate said. "You did the right thing. It may not feel like it right now but you did the right thing."

Jane nodded. "Well, thanks for the consensual validation and all but it still feels like shit."

"We're here for you," Kate said. She smiled. "In more ways than one. There are a few members of the company that think you just haven't come out to yourself, yet."

"Out to myself?" Jane asked.

"Wishful thinking on their part," Kate said. "Or maybe a little PTSD revisiting their own teenage pain in trying to be something they weren't. I mean, I tried penis once upon a time and thought, you know, there just must be something wrong with me… but I digress." She took a deep breath, then let it out. "Myself, I prefer to stay in the now. I'm much happier in the now, having accepted who I am than I was in the then when I… hated myself." She paused again. "But enough about me. I don't think you're gay, much to Beatrix's disappointment, but I do think Nate is an a-hole. For what it's worth."

"Beatrix?" Jane said.

"Did I say Beatrix?" Kate said, forcing a laugh. "Out loud? Without adding, 'Not her real name?' Okay. Yeah. Really, it's kind of flattering, if you think about it. I mean, you remember Beatrix's last girlfriend? She was smoking hot. And I'm not making it better, am I?"

"No," Jane said.

"I should let you get back to work," Kate said.

"Yes," Jane said.

*****

Beatrix stuck her head in the open doorway of Jane's office. "Have you seen the reviews?"

"I just got in," Jane said. "Worse than last time?" 

The phone on Jane's desk rang.

"That's probably Broadway," Beatrix said.

Picking up the phone, Jane said, "Ophelia's Opera House, Jane speaking. Good morning, Kate. No, I haven't. Uh huh. Wow. Uh huh. Okay. Yes. Yes. Of course it would be good for the company. I'm happy to. Okay. Yes. Thank you." She hung up the phone. "That was Kate."

"Yeah," Beatrix said. "I got that when you said, 'Good morning, Kate'."

"That arts and style magazine, Shopping Cart, wants to interview me," Jane said.

Holding up her phone and reading from it, Beatrix said, "Miller's scenery is as lyrical in its design elements as it is in its realization on stage, providing the contemporary setting of Shakespeare's classic with a truly modern and imaginative staging. It isn't often that I say this about stage scenery but this is art."

Jane reached out for the phone. "Let me see," she said, her voice breaking.

Beatrix stepped into Jane's office and handed her the phone. Jane's smile grew as she scrolled through and read the review. "Is it wrong that this is making me feel so good? Am I that fragile? That easily co-opted? I am, aren't I? Don't answer that while I'm sober." She paused, her smile now nearly consuming her face. "I'm just a shallow, insecure little baby."

"Just like the rest of us," Beatrix said. "We all just want to be loved. And a clean diaper."

"What about your costumes?" Jane asked.

Beatrix took back her phone. "Let's just say I was right about the flannel and biballs."

"Sorry," Jane said.

"I don't suppose you replaced the vodka, yet?" Beatrix asked.

Jane shook her head.

"Probably for the best," Beatrix said. "Stupid liver. Anyway, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Jane asked. She'd been worrying about this moment since her conversation with Kate ten days ago. She didn't have a lot of friends and didn't want to lose Beatrix. I love you, just not that way had been running through Jane's mind on an endless loop to the point where it seemed now like the very worst thing she could say. 

"I normally don't like to do this kind of thing," Beatrix said, "but I've got a brother. Pete. Full disclosure, I kind of hate him, but it's probably that I just can't let anything go and we're only a year apart and he was such a jerk when we were kids but anyway I don't even know if it's too soon, given that Nate was like a ten gallon ass hat, but, well, I think you'd like Pete. He really isn't that big of a jerk now that he's grown up."

"You really make him sound great," Jane said, not quite sure if she was relieved by this turn of events. "Makes me wonder why he's single." Beatrix offered a weak smile in response. "He just broke up with his bitch girlfriend, didn't he?" Jane asked,

"Yes," Beatrix said, quickly adding, "And you just broke up with your bitch boyfriend. So, you've got that. It's, like, kismet."

"Sounds like the opposite of kismet," Jane said.

"Sometimes it's good to be fortune's fool?" Beatrix said.

Jane thought about it. "No," she said.

"No?" Beatrix asked.

"No," Jane repeated. She smiled reflexively. Why did that feel so good?

"Okay," Beatrix said. She gave Jane a hug and Jane hugged her back. Now it was her turn to smile. "I love you," she said. "Just not that way."

Jane laughed. "I love you not that way, too."