All the world’s a stage. Isn’t that what Shakespeare or one of his characters supposedly said? Not that she wouldn’t believe it if somebody told her that she was in fact just following a very badly written script. She would simply really appreciate some further information and clearer instructions. Life is sometimes so bloody hard to navigate when you don’t even know the genre of your story or the role you are supposed to play.
Julia had just come back from her brother’s fiancĂ©e’s hen party. It had been her, her future sister-in-law, and 4 other women who had been best friends for the past two decades. She liked her future sister-in-law, but spending a weekend with a group with such a well-established dynamic felt awkward. They spoke in inside jokes and caught up on stories about unknown characters. Occasionally, they tried to include her, but it just didn’t seem natural. The scene was happy and nice to watch. But she still felt out of place.
She arrived at work and when she got to the office, she noticed a fortune cookie in her pocket. A remnant of the weekend? She cracked it open: Comic relief. And before she could think further, a colleague took her by the arm and pulled her into a depressing meeting. One of their junior designers, Dove, had missed an important deadline and lost them a client. Now they had to discuss if they would keep her. The colleague who had hired her looked anxious. Meanwhile, Julia’s mind was on the fortune cookie while her hand was fidgeting with a pen that she absentmindedly unscrewed. “Who is going to tell her?” At that moment, the pen became unscrewed and the spring launched one part straight into a coffee cup. Everyone looked at Julia, who smiled faintly: “I suppose this is my way of volunteering to play the bad guy. Sorry about your coffee.” The tension in the room suddenly gave way to a wave of relief and some chuckle about the pen. There had been the people who had hired Dove and the people who had trained her, but it was hard to tell who had failed whom more. Julia got up and put an appointment on Dove’s calendar. As she walked into her office, she put her hand into her jacket once more and felt another cookie. She cracked it open. This time, it read Villain. It made sense. She was the one who had volunteered for this role.
Dove entered the room and tried to make a joke about how the client should regret not being more patient when she’d sent him her design despite the passed deadline. Julia didn’t laugh. She asked her to sit down and explained to her the gravity of this incident. She exaggerated, hoping that this would make the young girl in front of her more careful in the future. Dove left the office crying and Julia laid back in her chair staring at the ceiling.
The week flew by and, suddenly, it was her brother’s wedding day. Julia enjoyed her roles throughout the week. Her favourite one was a supporting role for a timid young guy who helped her with gym equipment. He was spotted and offered a paid internship, which he gladly accepted. She noticed the irony of now being in a setting where the roles were so clearly outlined. She tried guessing if she would be a supporting role or just an extra that was only there for the food. But to her confusion, she read the words Romantic Lead.
© Vanessa Smiatek 2024-07-29