Читать книгу The Wife of a Bestselling Author - Henry J. Newman - Страница 3

It was an old theater. Quite a lot of the audience gathered and put their blurred hope in the Saturday Night Fever. Most of them looked rather be there for drinks at a pub near the theater. Sometimes a lager lout bothered the play in his cups. However, seemingly quite a young actress led the performance very well, whatever he did. She seemed not to care about it at all since she had already gotten used to such kind of teasing.

A loving family that consisted of a son and a single mother started to break up due to the son’s marriage and bankruptcy. The conflict between the three of them; mother, son and his wife went to the peak. Having such a strict and obsessive personality, the mother drove the daughter-in-law to the death. Only after then, the son followed behind her. All remaining alone on the stage, the mother closed the show with her horrifying scream.

While the mother was struggling with the last scene, that young actor and actress stayed behind the stage waiting for their turn. Leaning against each other, they escaped from everything. They stood the same even on the dark stage for a moment. Soon, the light turned on for a curtain call. The audience applauded the actor and the actress standing on the stage pretending that they knew nothing. Slowly, the curtain has been going up on the prolog of the festival.

Also, it seemed a little bit buoyant in the backstage. Actors, actresses, their friends and families, even theater manager, messed up the dressing room with being in and out. Wasn’t he a famous play critic of The Independent or something? You meant the typical middle-aged man sitting in the front row and kept writing something on his note? Now knowing who started it, they fell into conversation with somebody around them. It could be a great help if a journalist would write a kind review for us… at least on their Twitter. We should hit the jackpot this time, anyway… The bubble of hope blew and burst on by one in the sticky air mixed with alcohol, sweat, dust, and the heat of the lights.

The audience who already started missing the Saturday night kept hanging around the theater. Importunate young girls forced their prince charming to head back on the stage and pictured together arm in arm. A middle-aged man gave a bouquet with a present to the actress at the corner of the lobby. It seemed that she was trying to hide her bored face while he was talking seriously. The regular gadabouts noticed each other and made an appointment on the spot, and then moved to the next destination. It was a Saturday night that everyone was bustling.

At the end of this bout, all the playmakers were scattered in the city night following their own way. A couple of blocks away from the theater, that young lovers met again. They were burning with love like calming down their unsatisfied feelings in the theater. They sat side by side at the corner of an old building just a moment, sipping drinks. They seemed to rather relish each other. They might be talking about the show. When the lights on the street started to disappear, they stood up again. Roaming the glamorous night street, they arrived at a luxury apartment that looked quite different from their appearance at the theater. They strolled into the building taking off their mask on the stage.

The next morning, the actress was found dead in the apartment of the fellow actor. The first witness protested his innocence insisting that he was just a partner of the performance. It was turned out that they have would take a role as a couple in the play ‘Julien’, starting next week.

My wife, Emily Baker, is dead.