{"id":10911,"date":"2014-01-29T10:39:12","date_gmt":"2014-01-29T09:39:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/?page_id=10911"},"modified":"2014-01-30T09:52:02","modified_gmt":"2014-01-30T08:52:02","slug":"it-is-sentimental-it-is-not-realistic-it-is-life-defining","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/junofanfic\/various-fandoms\/the-notebook\/it-is-sentimental-it-is-not-realistic-it-is-life-defining","title":{"rendered":"It Is Sentimental, It Is Not Realistic; It Is Life-Defining"},"content":{"rendered":"

Song for this chapter: <\/b>\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mr. Rock \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 Roll\u00e2\u20ac\u009d (Amy Macdonald)<\/a><\/p>\n

\"chapter<\/p>\n

It Is Sentimental, It Is Not Realistic; It Is Life-Defining<\/h3>\n

Chris didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t text Zach after all.<\/p>\n

When he took the cab from his hotel to the theater, he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t even sure if he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d try to stick around afterwards. If he was lucky enough not to be recognized sneaking inside (that would be the day), he might head back to the hotel right after the show. He was only scheduled to leave New York in two days \u00e2\u20ac\u201c he really needed a break at the moment \u00e2\u20ac\u201c so he could always call Zach tomorrow (though he had no idea how he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d explain not dropping in after the show) \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and of course he could always catch an earlier flight back to L.A. if New York was too much for his peace of mind right now. And it wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t as if he had anything to prove. To Zach. Or to the media. Or to himself. Well, maybe to himself.<\/p>\n

Of course Chris was spotted pretty much the moment he got out of the cab in front of the Booth Theatre. Frankly, he hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t anticipated such a turnout in terms of fans, not for a serious play like \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The Glass Menagerie\u00e2\u20ac\u009d. So much for slipping away unseen. To his surprise, it wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t that bad, though. Maybe because he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t jostled by security or hustled by publicists. Maybe because he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t in a hurry to go somewhere, do something, be someone. However, he refused to sign any playbills. He had nothing to do with the play, for heaven\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s sake! But he did put his signature on pretty much everything else except naked skin. (Although in one case he was almost tempted.) (Almost.)<\/p>\n

One thing about theaters, though: People were in general better behaved than out in the streets. Once he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d claimed his seat, he was left alone. Alone with his thoughts \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and that strange mixture of anticipation and anxiety that had taken hold of him.<\/p>\n

When Zach appeared on the stage, Chris felt as if he had the breath knocked out of him. As if they were doing that stupid fight scene on the bridge all over again, with Zach\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hands wrapped around his throat while he gasped for air and tried not to drown in Zach\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s dark eyes. And why did his mind have to flash back to that moment out of all possible Zach memories of seven fucking years?<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153The play is memory. Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental, it is not realistic.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i><\/p>\n

Yeah<\/i>, Chris nodded, memory is indeed damn nonrealistic.<\/i> Also, his<\/i> memory was obviously big on poetic license. His brain had omitted a ton of details where Zach was concerned in the course of just a few months. Like how much he lo\u00e2\u20ac\u201d how much he liked<\/i> the exquisite nuances of Zach\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s voice. His heart ached with each line, with each gesture.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153In memory everything seems to happen to music.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i><\/p>\n

Chris shuddered as a nearly overwhelming sense of surrealism gripped him. He knew it was impossible, but he could have sworn the stage music was that Edward Sharpe song all over again. And no matter how much the play captivated him, every now and again the story and the stage faded away. Scenes turned into slow-motion close-ups of Zach, of Zach talking to Chris instead of Tom speaking to the other actors.<\/p>\n

What are you even doing here? the shadows surrounding the stage demanded. And on the stage, Zach shouted: \u00e2\u20ac\u0153In my life here that I can call my OWN! Everything is\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i><\/p>\n

I\u00e2\u20ac\u201d I wanted to see your play, of course<\/i>, Chris thought. But that wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t quite true.<\/p>\n

I wanted to see <\/i>you, he admitted.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Adventure and change were imminent in this year. They were waiting around the corner for\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i><\/p>\n

For … ? But Chris didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t hear the rest of that passage because his heartbeat reverberated in his ears like fucking jungle drums.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What did you wish for?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i> Amanda asked on the stage, startling Chris back to his senses.<\/p>\n

Zach looked at Chris. Or did he? \u00e2\u20ac\u0153That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a secret.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i><\/p>\n

Tom\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s monologue to introduce Jim really messed with Chris\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s mind. For a moment he didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know anymore if he was watching the play or if he heard Spock talking about Jim Kirk<\/i> or if this was Zach talking about him<\/i>, about Chris.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Captain … always running or bounding, never just walking … always at the point of defeating the law of gravity … I’m not patient. I don’t want to wait … I know I seem dreamy, but inside …\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i><\/p>\n

When Zach wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t on stage, Chris was torn between relief and grief. As if all of a sudden not seeing Zach for a few minutes was too long, too much of a separation. And the splintered silence between the scenes asked him the same question over and over again: What the fuck are you doing here?<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I didn’t go to the moon, I went much further \u00e2\u20ac\u201c for time is the longest distance between places,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/i>Zach declared in his closing speech, and Chris\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s stomach twisted into a tight knot. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I intended to be …\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i><\/p>\n

The candles went out; the scene dissolved; the applause was deafening.<\/p>\n

Chris needed more than a moment to come back to reality. He needed even longer to man up and walk to the backstage entrance, asking politely if it was okay to go through. (\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, of course, Mr. Pine. If you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll come with me, Mr. Pine …\u00e2\u20ac\u009d)<\/p>\n

Then he stood in a dimly lit hallway that smelled of sweat and dust and powder, knocking on a battered, non-descript wooden door. Five seconds later, Chris was staring at Zach, who was visibly still in the process of cleaning up after the play. His damp hair stuck up every which way. His face was flushed, his eyes still shining with stage high.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What the fuck, Chris.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Zach beamed at him. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have called? Or texted? Or something?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Chris attempted to shrug but didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get anywhere with the gesture because he was pulled into a tight embrace that left him breathless all over again, his heart pounding. How could something as elusive as the hug from an old friend affect him so strongly? Also, his heart wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t the only part of his anatomy that reacted to Zach\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s greeting, though luckily his friend didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t seem to notice.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I should have,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Chris admitted. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And I should have brought flowers. Blue roses, of course. Or champagne. Or both. Yeah, definitely both.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d For a desperate second, he thought he couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t come up with a compliment that wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t make him sound insane. Fortunately, he sort of remembered a very sophisticated review he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d read in the New York Times months ago. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You know, that Brantley guy in the Times was right. This play? It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s really career-defining for you. Life-defining.<\/i> And he used all those cool words in his article that currently escape me. Except fucking fantastic. Fabulous.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Stuff it with the alliterations, already. That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s so Peter Piper.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d But Zach couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t stop grinning. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Give me ten minutes. Then we can head out. Go somewhere, or hang at my place.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Your place sounds good. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve been somewhere too often lately.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Chris gave Zach his best puppy dog eyes and added plaintively, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153My introvert tendencies are in desperate need of assuaging.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Poor baby.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\n

Author\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Notes<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u00a2 Quoted passages in italics during the play indicate quotes from \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The Glass Menagerie\u00e2\u20ac\u009d by Tennessee Williams.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u00a2 The review Chris refers to is the article \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Wounded by Broken Memories\u00e2\u20ac\u009d by Ben Brantley, New York Times Theater Reviews, September 26, 2013.<\/p>\n

\u00c2\u00ab<\/a> \u00e2\u2122\u00a5 \u00c2\u00bb<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Song for this chapter: \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mr. Rock \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 Roll\u00e2\u20ac\u009d (Amy Macdonald) It Is Sentimental, It Is Not Realistic; It Is Life-Defining Chris didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t text Zach after all. When he took the cab from his hotel to the theater, he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t even … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":194,"featured_media":0,"parent":10872,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"chapter.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-10911","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/10911","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/194"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10911"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/10911\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10939,"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/10911\/revisions\/10939"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/10872"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/juno-magic.fancrone.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10911"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}