Thick sunlight
February 26, 2015 - 7:39 p.m.

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"Oh my god. Are those...pears?!"

I looked. Hidden amongst the standard naval oranges, red delicious apples and bruised unripe bananas were three skinny brown pears.

Alayna took one, and I took two. I hadn't had pears in months.

~

"The officers mess has had a turkey carvery for the last few days," the new costume senior told me. "So I've had my FAVORITE sandwich: turkey, cranberry sauce and mayo on a roll." Her smile, her rolled up eyes, they get to me.

"We don't get that in the crew mess," I told her.

She hesitated for only a second before giving me a dismissive shrug.

"What ever," she said. "I worked three years to get this position. I'm gonna enjoy it."

Bitch, I thought, but merely smiled on the outside.

This company is full of fuckin' maladjusted weirdos. And that's saying something for theatre.

~

His costume is not a lion, but lion like. Halfway between a biker and a big cat.

He oozes through the trap room with a barely controlled, completely disinterested sexuality that only the entirely gay can master.

Eric opens the elevator door and he climbs in, onto the carefully sculpted pile of bones.

I smile, watching. I am so proud of my actors. I am proud to be able to send them on stage, prepped as best I can, to startle, wow, amaze the audience.

Just before the elevator goes up, he kisses his hand and presses his paw on the glass by my face.

I am proud of these boys.

~

Some of the dancers get up to play volleyball.

The sand is so, so white. Translucent white shells pock the surface; they look like fingernails to me, curved and white and ridged with growth.

The water is so blue. Impossibly blue. Postcard blue.

Lone pelicans skim the surface, feathers rumpled like they just rolled out of bed.

I have my pears. They are so sweet.

The dancers stretch and roll and dive for the ball. They wear the tiniest shorts, and their long muscled thoughts glisten with sweat or tanning oil.

The pears, the skin like sandpaper on my tongue, the flesh gritty and interesting. They are perfectly ripe.

They are gone too soon, nothing but a sticky memory, and them it is time to go back to the boat.

"Let's ride bikes back," Alayna says. Her red lipstick is unmarked by the pear.

We ride our one speed bikes through the thick sunlight, and for a moment I remember what it's like to feel free.

.

Rosie.

Before&After