Free Under the Mercy Trees by Heather Newton Page B

one to Martin. “I’ve got this,” he said quietly. No one at the table noticed the charity. Martin ate ravenously. The next time Deke tapped a cigarette from the pack he’d set in front of him on the table, Martin reached for one and lit up, waving away the disappointed face of his Baptist mother, who thought smoking was a sin. To his left Deke’s body seemed to radiate heat.
    Liza couldn’t come to the performance of Fortunate One because of exams, but caught a ride from Greensboro to see a rehearsal. Martin took her to the theater. They slipped into seats and listened to Deke give directions to the two actors playing the hero and heroine. Martin had wanted Deke to play the male lead, a young man remarkably like Martin himself, but Deke preferred to direct. Stoney, the fellow he’d picked for the part, was unimpressive, but homely Margaret, who had won the role of Martin’s female lead, was talented enough that they soon forgot she wasn’t pretty and worth falling hopelessly in love with.
    â€œThis is great!” Liza whispered. She nestled against him. “I’ve missed you.”
    Martin slouched happily in his seat, proud to have Liza there. Up onstage, Deke’s hands cut the air, moving the actors around as if he had them on strings. His voice echoed through the theater, sometimes calm, sometimes biting. Martin tried to catch his eye, but Deke didn’t look his way.
    During a lull when the actors were walking through scene 2 for the fourth time, Liza whispered, “Daddy asked me to tell you that your mother doesn’t look well. He’d like to examine her, but she keeps putting him off. He thought you might at least be able to talk your father into letting her get some rest.”
    Martin had no hope of his father excusing his mother from working. “I’ll write to her. Maybe I can convince her to go visit her sister.”
    At the front of the theater, Deke called it a day. “Dress rehearsal next Wednesday.” Martin led Liza down the aisle to introduce her. Deke shook Liza’s hand, looking bored. Martin saw Liza observing Deke, trying to figure him out, but Martin was too giddy at being around Deke and having his play produced to be concerned about Liza’s keen eye.
    Snow began falling early the day of the performance. Martin watched, anxious, as it accumulated on his bedroom windowsill, afraid the play would be canceled, but when he got to the theater an hour before showtime, the Playmakers were in place. Deke was as cool as ever.
    â€œYou can watch from backstage if you want,” he offered.
    â€œNo.” Martin wanted to sit anonymously in the middle of the theater to gauge the audience’s reaction.
    The theater filled with students who shed coats and hats and jiggled the seats in front of them with booted feet. Fortunate One was the second play to be performed. Martin suffered through the first piece, not hearing a word. After a brief, torturous intermission, the lights dimmed again, and Margaret and Stoney took the stage. Martin stopped breathing. He listened in terror for yawns or muttered remarks from the audience, but heard only a respectful hush and a few inevitable coughs. He relaxed and concentrated on the action onstage.
    Even dress rehearsal hadn’t prepared him for the real performance. Sitting in the dark, he stopped reciting lines along with the characters and eventually forgot he had written the play. When it was over, too soon, he saw that several girls around him were wiping their eyes. He was sure that the applause for Fortunate One was louder than the applause for the first play. When Margaret and Stoney came out to take a bow, Deke came with them and motioned for Martin to stand where he was. “The playwright,” Deke told the audience. Martin basked in the admiration of the people around him, pocketing their congratulations to savor later.
    Backstage, the Playmakers spiked orange juice with vodka