Unforgettable

Not to worry, Ma’am.
Half-a-dozen of his students surrounded him, effusive with compliments. At
least they were a distraction. He comforted himself with the knowledge that
Alan Silverman had returned. The producer nodded on the way back to his seat.
“We’ll talk later.”
Would it be a good talk or bad? The anticipation was like waiting for a test result
that would affect the rest of his life. Jen rushed by, bestowed a kiss, and
whispered, “I love the story.”
Very unbiased. It meant nothing. He’d told her to stay with their family and
friends until afterwards, when they’d either celebrate or pick up the pieces.
What a way to make a living. Throwing himself out there for brutal criticism. Or
applause.
He stood in the back of the theater, watching the second half with a critical eye.
They’d all worked hard—the actors, director, producer—but he sensed
something different from a Broadway production. Something lacking. He took a
deep breath and kept watching, while his expectations fell.
To his surprise, the audience’s reaction sustained a curtain call for the cast. A
hometown thing? Support for regional theater? And then Jen was at his side,
bestowing kisses.
“It was great, Doug. In my humble opinion, your story made the actors look
good.”
“I’m not sure...some people didn’t return for the second act.”

---

“Maybe they got sick or something. Smile! We all enjoyed it.” She nodded at
their crowd of family and friends making their way up the aisle. But his eyes
were only on Silverman.
“C’mon, my man,” said the producer, “let’s go for a drink.”
“Right after I visit backstage,” said Doug. “They’ll be waiting and wondering.
We’ve been working together for months.”
“They did a fine job,” said Silverman. “But make no promises to them.” He
paused a moment. “Traditionally, we cast in New York and take the play to a city
or two in order to hone it, get the kinks out. Kiddo, you did it ass-backwards.”
“I had my reasons,” said Doug quietly.
Silverman’s gaze passed from Doug to Jen and back. “Don’t blame you a bit. So
how about I’ll wait for you here.”
“And I’ll take the gang to our usual watering spot,” said Jen. “I don’t want to be
in the way.”
Her quick smile, furrowed brow, and the question in her voice… Oh, she so
wanted to stay. With a fond smile, Doug said, “And since when did good
manners ever stop you?”
Her eyes popped open wider than dinner plates.
“Like a visit to the doctor, eh?” he said, reaching for her hand. “Hang out, and
we’ll catch up with the others later.”
“Not us,” said Mike. “I’m taking Lisa and Emily home. Babies don’t appreciate
their moms having late nights.”
Emily approached and hugged Doug. “I bet you got lost in writing that,” she
whispered in his ear. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
“As they say, Emily, it’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.” He squeezed her
hand. “You’re not alone, kiddo.”
“Good.”

---

He shook Mike’s hand. “I feel lucky you had a bye week and could catch the
show.”
“Sometimes things work out. Good job. Touchdown.” Waving, he and Lisa left
the theater.
Liz and Matt came closer. “Unfortunately, we have a flight to catch in the
morning,” said Liz. “But we’re so glad we came. We loved the play. I laughed
and cried. Good luck with it and with…everything.”
“See you at the wedding,” said Jen, waving as they walked out the door.
“How about Alexis and I take your folks to Maguires and meet you there when
you’re ready?” asked Evan.
“I’ll go, too,” added Eve.
“Whew, that was fast,” said Doug. “Give me a few minutes with the cast and
we’ll head out.”
Ten minutes later, the three started toward the producer’s downtown hotel.
“Walking at night is almost as good as a drink in a dark bar,” said Silverman.
“Privacy on the street. So tell me what you saw tonight, Doug.”
Strange question. “I’m not sure, to tell the truth. The audience seemed to like it,
but…something…” He gestured impatiently. “It sort of didn’t match what I was
hearing in my head.”
“Excellent answer,” agreed Silverman. “I’m happy to say that your material was
better than the interpretation. And that’s what was off.”
“But the actors worked so hard!” said Jennifer, stopping in mid-stride. “They
knew every line.”
“I’m sure they worked hard.”
Doug tugged her hand. “What he’s saying, Jen, is that the actors were not
Broadway caliber. And the director didn’t know how to pull more out of them.”
Silverman broke in. “For example, substitute Glenn Close as the older woman.

---

Think what she could bring to that part.”
Doug understood immediately, but his mind was on one track. “So it’s not the
script! I couldn’t put my finger on…And when some people didn’t return for the
second act…” He closed his eyes, his mind sorting out the numerous rehearsals.
“Sorry for the rambling.”
“So what you’re saying is that we have a friendlier audience here who enjoyed it
without Glenn Close,” said Jen.
“And who paid a quarter of the price,” said the producer.
Doug sensed Jen standing taller, on alert. “So, what exactly are you saying, Mr.
Silverman?”
“I’m saying that I’ll be making a lot of phone calls, and the first one will be to
my brother. I’ll also need a copy of the script.”
Doug caught Jen’s glance. In the light of the streetlamp, her eyes shone, the
corners of her mouth rose, and he felt her exuberance in the air around them.
“Told you so,” she bragged. “I knew all the time.”
“Right,” he said. “Enjoy the moment, but remember that a writer’s life is a
rollercoaster ride.”

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