Love-in-Idleness Read online

  She had even sat down with Gia in an effort to forge a bond based on their mutual affection for Theo. Gia openly admitted hiding her relationship to Grace’s mother, and was unapologetic. She wanted to marry Theo and was not going to risk losing him by revealing the truth. Yes, Miles had sent her into Theo’s life with the intent of bringing them together, but once she was firmly ensconced in his life, she fell in love with him. Grace could appreciate that much of what Gia had to say, but she found it hard to forgive Gia’s desire to remove all traces of Emma from their lives. Likewise, it was difficult for Gia to get past her resentment of Grace’s bond with her father.

  In the end, Grace and Gia agreed that they would have to tolerate each other for Theo’s sake. Gia would try to be less outwardly bitchy, and Grace would try to focus her energy on being happy for Theo instead of judging Gia.

  Eventually, everyone took their seats. The formalities of the reception soon began. A multitude of waiters appeared with dinner for the crowd. When everyone was served, Miles Oberon stood up, trim and distinguished in his tuxedo, and welcomed one and all. “And now,” he announced, “my son Puck has arranged for some dinner entertainment based on a tradition that predates what we’ve experienced, save what we learned in our college literature classes.”

  With that, Miles gave the floor to Puck, who stood tall and addressed the guests. “My father,” he began, “has charged me with the task of reviving an old tradition, dating back several centuries, of providing entertainment that goes beyond simply hiring a band. In the days when Shakespeare composed for the Globe Theater, noblemen and women would enjoy a variety of entertainments from jugglers to musicians to short dramas. As an homage to this tradition, my father has asked me to direct a short, rather tedious play that captures the drama, misfortune, and in the case of our little troupe of actors, the farcical nature of love. Please welcome your future heads of state and leaders of industry as they present A Very Tragic Comedy about the Horrible Deaths of Pyramus and Thisbe. We have updated the language a bit in order to make the play easier to understand. Not for you, for the actors. Please be attentive, for the title of the play is nearly as long as the play itself.”

  A ripple of nervous laughter skittered through the room, as if the guests were unsure as to whether or not Puck was being serious. Puck moved aside as the actors took their places on the small stage that had been constructed on one side of the room. A tall, lanky teenage boy with a grim expression took the stage. It was hard for Grace to decide whether she should interpret the look on his face as determination or fear.

  “Who is that?” she whispered in Cam’s ear.

  “Peter. He’s usually the brightest one of this bunch, but he looks like he’s going to be sick,” Cam said.

  On stage, Peter took a breath that was so deep that Grace could see his chest expand as he took in air. Then, on Puck’s signal, he rocked on his toes one time, stood up tall, and began.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. We have deemed it wise and necessary to prepare a prologue to excuse any offensive elements of our play. We come with the intention of entertaining, and when we offend it will be our purpose, not our accident. While there are many such moments, they are executed with the best of intentions…”

  Puck leaned forward and whispered to the head table, “Just for the record, he’s totally blowing it. That’s not what I wrote.”

  “I don’t know,” Titania said. “It sounds pretty Puckish to me.”

  Peter continued. “Hopefully, we will all survive this theatrical experience, the audience included.”

  The audience sat in silence, except for a hearty chuckle from Miles. “So far,” he said, “this is the best play I’ve seen all year!” His outburst was met with more silence, but Miles didn’t care at all. Peter continued. Grace hoped he would speak quickly so that he would be off the stage if he vomited.

  “This, my friends, is the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, lovers separated by fate, and by a wall. And so our story begins.” Peter exited the stage quickly and was replaced by another boy, who was wearing a light gray sandwich board with bricks drawn onto it.

  “Greetings,” the young man said, holding his arms out toward the audience. “My name is Robin Starling, and I will portray the cruel wall that separates the homes of Pyramus and Thisbe. And here,” he proclaimed, presenting his right hand and touching his index finger to his thumb, “is the chink in the wall, through which the lovers speak. It is a vile wretched hole that keeps their love unfulfilled.”

  Cam whispered very quietly so that only Grace could hear, “Is it me or did that sound kind of dirty?”

  Grace punched Cam playfully in the arm to silence him. “Quiet!” she said softly. “He just has a large vocabulary. For a wall, anyway.”

  Puck leaned over and shushed them both. “Quiet! Here comes Pyramus.”

  A large broad-chested boy, well over six feet tall, wearing white tights and what appeared to be a mini-toga and gladiator sandals charged the stage. Every wedding guest erupted into laughter. The boy on stage had sense enough to wait for the laughter to subside before attempting his line, and held a heroic pose, his legs in a hugely exaggerated fighting stance and his sword held high. Grace grabbed her napkin and covered her mouth to hide her laughter. However, a sideways glance at her uncle established that this was completely unnecessary. Miles was beside himself with mirth. Next to him, Titania had an agitated look on her face. Grace saw her shake her head quickly, as if to get rid of an evil thought. Grace heard Titania grab Miles’ arm and ask, “Who is that young man?”

  Miles stopped laughing for a moment and wiped tears of hilarity from his eyes. “That, my dear, is by far the biggest jackass of my son’s entourage.”

  “But what is his name?” Titania persisted.

  “That is Nick Bottom. I doubt you have any reason to recognize his face,” Miles replied.

  On stage, Nick approached one side of the wall and began to speak in a mournful tone. “Oh, night! Oh, grim, black night! Oh, night, which is what it is when it is not day! Oh, night! Alack! Alack! Alack!” Nick looked out at the audience, eyes wide, and paused awkwardly before continuing. “Oh wall, who stands between her father’s ground and mine, show me your chink so that I might spy my love.”

  Robin quickly held out his right hand, which made the familiar hole shape.

  Nick continued. “Thank you for showing me my love. But what’s this? My Thisbe does not appear. Oh, cursed wall, damn your reception.”

  “Reception?” Grace asked Cam.

  “Maybe he means deception,” Cam answered.

  Cam leaned over Grace’s lap to whisper to Puck, “Can a wall tell a lie?”

  Puck grinned and replied, “If I were the wall, I’d be telling Pyramus a few things about now.”

  On stage, Nick broke character and turned to Puck. “Actually,” he shouted into the audience, “he’s not supposed to say anything. ‘Damn your reception’ is Thisbe’s cue. She comes in and I see her through the wall. Look, here she comes.”

  Grace thought she would hurt herself laughing so hard. She had to wipe away the tears that were beginning to roll down her cheeks. She had just enough time to compose herself before another actor appeared on the stage.

  The new boy was wearing what looked like a prom dress from an old eighties movie. It was a pale pink strapless number with a fitted satin bodice and a poufy lace skirt. He was wearing a blond shoulder-length wig, an enormous pink cloak and bright dots of pink rouge on his cheeks. The audience went wild with laughter as the boy entered.

  Grace shot Cam as puzzled look. Cam shrugged, and together, they watched as Thisbe took her position on the opposite side of the wall from Pyramus. Both Pyramus and Thisbe made a huge show of looking around as if they couldn’t see each other.

  “That’s Francis who’s playing Thisbe. The whole drag thing isn’t exactly a stretch for him,” Cam said.

  Francis, as Thisbe, rushed desperately to the wall and began to her lines. “Oh, wall, how often you
have heard my moans because you keep me parted from my Pyramus. My cherry lips have often kissed your stone.”

  Grace saw Puck almost spit out his drink. She nudged Cam. “You’re right, it sounds dirty.”

  Pyramus responded, “I see a voice! I will go to the chink in the wall and see if I can hear my Thisbe’s face. Oh, Thisbe, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.”

  Puck whispered, “Again, not what I wrote.”

  “But I kiss the wall’s hole,” Thisbe responded, “not your lips at all.” As both Pyramus and Thisbe rushed, lips first, toward Robin’s outstretched fingers, held in a circle, they missed their timing and collided, lips on lips, for a brief moment. Pyramus jumped back suddenly and quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Thisbe held her position.

  Regaining his composure, Pyramus moved back to the chink. ”Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightaway?”

  “Tide life, tide death, I come without delay,” Thisbe said.

  As Pyramus and Thisbe scurried offstage, Wall stepped forward and spoke. “Thus, I, the wall, have played my part. And being finished, I will now leave.” And with that, the wall turned and walked off the stage.

  Miles leaned in toward Grace and Cam. “If Pyramus and Thisbe had waited thirty seconds, the wall would have been gone. It would have saved them a lot of trouble.”

  Titania gave Miles’ arm a playful swat. “This is all the silliest business I’ve ever heard. It’s terrible.”

  Miles took her hand and kissed it gently, “Even the best of drama is an illusion. The worst is just as good if you use your imagination.”

  Titania drew her hand away. “Then aren’t you just enjoying your own imagination?” she asked.

  “Just try to see them as they see themselves, and you will appreciate the effort,” Miles counseled. Then his attention returned to the stage. “Look, here comes the lion.”

  The lion was simply another teenage boy in a ragged costume that looked like he had a mop on his head. He was heavyset, had a little pug nose, and looked just as shell-shocked as Robin had looked when portraying the wall. He peeked his face through the silly mane that surrounded his round face and spoke very loudly and slowly. “Ladies, who are afraid of even the smallest mouse that scurries across the floor, might be terribly frightened when the lion lets loose its horrible roar. But relax, because it is only me, Sloan, who would never harm a soul, even at the risk of my own life.”

  Theo laughed, “It’s so refreshing to see a beast with a conscience.”

  Cam nodded, “I’ve never seen anyone play a lion better.”

  Suddenly, the lion darted to the edge of the stage and squatted in a corner as if to conceal himself. Thisbe entered from the other side, one hand held to her eyes, and made an exaggerated show of searching the stage, craning her head from side to side. “This is old Ninny’s tomb, but where is my love?” she asked.

  Sloan leaped from his squatting position with a vigor that Grace didn’t expect from such a chubby fellow. He ran at Thisbe, taking a swipe that landed on the damsel’s arm, and at the same time let out a roar that shook the glassware on the tables closest to the stage. Thisbe jumped straight up so convincingly that Grace was pretty sure she really was startled, and ran off the stage, dropping her cloak behind him.

  Cam looked visibly delighted as he clapped his hands and called out, “Excellent roaring, Lion!”

  “Excellent running, Thisbe!” Miles added.

  With great enthusiasm, the lion picked up Thisbe’s cloak in his mouth and shook it violently. Grace could see that one side of the cloak had been stained, in advance of the performance, with patches of red that looked like catsup. The audience cheered, a fact that Grace found a bit unsettling. Were they cheering Thisbe being attacked or Sloan’s completely overdone show of shaking the cloak?

  After a full minute of this, Lion rushed offstage in the same direction that Thisbe had gone and Pyramus entered from the other side. He strutted to center stage and held one arm up, gesturing toward the ceiling. “Oh, moon, thank you for illuminating this night, for it is by the light of thy sunny beams that I will see my Thisbe.” Seeing the bloody cloak, he stopped short to pick it up. “But wait! What dreadful sight is this? Eyes, do you see? How can it be? Your lovely cloak stained with blood. May the Fates and Furies come down upon he who has harmed my love. Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!” Nick, as Pyramus, clutched the cloak to his face and looked up at the head table, his face full of exaggerated woe. Grace followed his gaze with her eyes, and imagined for just a moment that he was staring directly at Titania. In the brief time that Grace had known Titania, it didn’t seem surprising that any man would stare at her. What did seem surprising, though, was that Titania’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes opened wide for just a moment when Nick made eye contact with her. Then, it seemed that both Titania and Nick shook their heads just a bit and returned to normal. Grace told herself that she was imagining things and looked back to the stage.

  Theo shook his head disdainfully, “I’m trying to feel his pain, but it’s not happening.”

  Titania leaned over Miles and whispered to Theo. “I feel kind of sorry for him.”

  On stage Pyramus wailed grievously. “Oh, Mother Nature! Why did you make lions of this sort that has deflowered my Thisbe?” This lament caught Grace in mid-drink. She was so startled by the misnomer that she almost shot wine out of her nose. “My Thisbe, who was the fairest girl that ever lived or looked, or loved to look with cheer. Come tears! Come sword, and pierce the chest of Pyramus, here where his heart is.” Pyramus drew his sword and paused for dramatic effect.

  Just when Grace thought the play couldn’t get any worse, Nick turned sideways, his right side to the audience, and thrust his sword between his arm and his left side. “Thus I die, thus, thus, thus. Now I am dead. Now I am fled. My soul is in the sky. Tongue lose thy light. Moon, take thy flight. Now die,” Pyramus moaned, falling slowly to the ground. When everyone thought he was finished, he held his head up one more time to moan, “Die, die, die.”

  Miles chuckled, “Shall we call a doctor so that this ass can live to carry on some more?”

  As the room grew quiet, Thisbe crept onto the stage, looking everywhere but at Pyramus.

  Titania took a long drink and said, “I hope she won’t carry on too much when she sees him. He wasn’t much of a catch.”

  Ryder chimed in. “Look, I think she’s spotted him.”

  Thisbe threw herself onto Pyramus and shook him, cooing, “Asleep, my love?” Slowly, Pyramus slid onto his back, the sword sticking straight up into the air. Thisbe let out a distressed squeak. “What, dead, my dove? Oh, Pyramus, arise! Dead, dead? A tomb must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips, this cherry nose, these yellow cowslip cheeks are gone. Lovers make moan. His eyes were as green as leeks. Tongue not a word. Come trusty sword. Come, blade, my breast imbrue.” Thisbe stood and pulled the sword from Pyramus’s side and employed the same pretend stabbing technique that Pyramus had used. It occurred to Grace that she had read that it was extremely difficult to pull a knife from someone who had been stabbed, and that it took a great deal of strength to stab oneself. Plays always made it look so easy.

  Thisbe continued. “Farewell, friends. Thus Thisbe ends. Adieu, adieu, adieu.”

  Theo smiled and offered, “Perhaps wall and Lion will come back to bury the dead.”

  Nick sat up suddenly and quite out of character to respond to Theo. “No, wall is down and gone. Would you like to hear an epilogue to our play?”

  Everyone at the head table burst out with almost perfect synchronicity, “NO!”

  Miles stood up and generously held up his glass. “What we are saying is that your play is more than adequately concluded. Everyone is dead. No one is left to blame, and it is time to lift our glasses in thanks for the fine drama that has been performed for us tonight.”

  Grace squirmed at those words. It was only a few days since she had been left to conclude her own little drama. Now, everyone’s f
ate was determined, and few people knew who was to blame. She only allowed herself a moment of reflection before she shook it off and held up her glass in response to the speech Miles had just given.

  Everyone in the room stood and toasted the boys, who linked arms and took an extended bow. After they left the stage, Miles was still standing. “May I offer one final word of congratulations to the happy couple? And now, it is late, which means that we all need to get up and do some dancing before we get too comfortable in our seats.”

  As he spoke, the band was taking over the other stage. After a few moments of adjusting their instruments, they began to play a cover of a top 40 ballad, and the dance floor quickly filled with couples. Grace surveyed the crowd, trying to make a rough estimate of how much money had been spent on Bottega Venetta and Dior gowns. How many pairs of Jimmy Choos were gliding across the floor right now?

  Cam stood and took her hand to lead her to the dance floor. “How many hungry people,” she asked, “do you think could have been fed with the money that was spent on shoes for tonight?”

  Cam grinned at her and kept walking. As they joined the other dancers, he put his left hand lightly on her waist, and took her left hand in his right. Beginning to turn with practiced steps, he said, “I know it seems excessive, but you’re going to have to find a way to balance your conscience and your new wealth. Find a way to use it for charity if that’s what gives you some peace.”

  Cam expertly gave her a little twirl, which she found surprisingly simple to execute. She landed back in his arms and smiled up at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll find my way,” she said. Grace was about to speak again when Puck cut in and swept her away from Cam. In the past few days, she had become acquainted with Puck. She liked him, though she had been warned by Cam to use great caution in her dealings with her new cousin.