Hearing Emmet

I was in the theater building the next day for rehearsals. The techies were communicating over intercom and every couple minutes I heard Emmet's hushed voice requesting actors to come to stage right. Only a moment later, It was my name being called to stage. I went and watched Emmet till my entrance came.

Emmet looked focused. His wiry glasses rested lightly on his nose and the light coming from the stage carved his distinct features. He looked black and white and void of color, void of feeling.

Emmet looked my way, but this time I knew he wasn't looking at me. He craned his neck, looking through the crowd of actors, to the door. He must have been waiting for someone. I didn't know who. I never saw them come.

From where I was later, I could hear a saxophone being played. It seemed to go on for an unreasonable amount of time. I wondered if this was intermission. The music stopped and I heard a chorus of witches chanting. My train of thought wandered and I thought of the book Emmet had let me read a couple days before. Did he bring it? Probably not. I was disappointed.

Once again, I was called to stage. Watching Emmet, I saw him pull a backpack out from behind a chair. Maybe he did bring the book. I didn't know. I played my part and left again, feeling as though I hadn't watched him enough. I didn't learn enough. I couldn't even remember what he was wearing. It was probably plaid.