I guess if I’m going to start anywhere with writing and sharing stories, I should start towards the beginning.
This isn’t the beginning of my writing, not at all. I’ve been writing since I was very little, but that’s a discussion for another post. This is a slightly current piece of writing, if you want to consider 2009 (or maybe 2008) current. It’s a silly piece, based around a prompt a friend gave me (“‘twas a cheese sandwich”), and I came up with this during science class.
It’s kind of an important story to me, mostly because I wrote it about me. Back then, I had big dreams: I was going to be a stage manager/technical director, and also somehow take photos for National Geographic. My two best friends from high school and I were still going to be best friends. (Oh, and somehow my imaginary boyfriend Charlie from freshman year was going to be there, of course.)
Sometimes (but not often) I find myself missing those days. Everything seemed simple back then. None of it happened, I should add. I haven’t spoken to my friends in years; I’m definitely not doing either of those jobs, and things are more complicated. I don’t even have time to write as much as I used to. I’m not unhappy, mind you. I studied Visual Effects and I love it, and I have new friends; but I look at this story sometimes and just miss how big a dreamer I used to be. I should take a page from high school me’s book and start thinking like that again. I’m going to win an Oscar and be a published author, and still have time for world travels. Right?
I’m okay without Charlie, though.
‘twas a cheese sandwich.
It sat innocently on the desk before her, plainly, its’ cheesy edges dripping grease onto her light structure diagrams.
‘twas a cheese sandwich.
The edges of the cheese were crusty, so it was grilled. The zebra-like stripes across the bread bore the telltale signs of a panini maker; the sandwiches’ maker evidently was trying for a little bit of class. Still, a cheese sandwich was a cheese sandwich, fanciness or not.
Luna bent over and poked it tentatively. It was still warm. That meant the culprit might still be nearby. She straightened up, embarrassed to think that she might have been caught poking a sandwich. She looked around. There was no one in sight. But still…
‘twas a cheese sandwich, and it stared up at her mockingly. In a metaphorical sense, of course. Sandwiches don’t stare, and they don’t mock. She was definitely losing it. She had worked late the night before, trying to re-program the lights, since her new lighting designer was clueless. Yes, she was definitely overworked. Overworked and underpaid, and now late for rehearsal.
One of the actors had probably left the sandwich there for her. Or Charlie, he was always bringing her food. He was supposed to be taking her to dinner later…
A nagging voice in the back of her head disagreed with her. What if… what if it wasn’t Charlie or one of the actors? What if it was a new, mysterious person? Who else would leave a cheese sandwich, of all things?
But why would that person be in New York?
And did they even know what a panini maker was?
Luna sighed, and swept the sandwich into the rubbish bin. Quickly, she mopped the grease off her diagrams with a tissue and pinned them up on the corkboard wall. She left her office, locking the door behind her. She had a show to run.
Two weeks later, it happened again.
It was dress rehearsals, and the how was falling to pieces before Luna’s eyes. Sets were coming on at the wrong time, and then never going off. The children in the chorus wouldn’t shut up. They crowded around Luna’s podium, chatting with each other, oblivious to Luna’s scolding’s. The lead actor was losing his voice. The other actors laughed as his voice cracked on the high notes. The lights were slow, and the flies never came in. And something was wrong with the intercoms, so all of Luna’s yelling into the headsets went unheard.
Mercifully, the director called for an early dismissal. She smiled sympathetically at Luna. “It’s the show biz, dear. The worse the rehearsal, the better the show. Guaranteed. In my thirty years of directing, I’ve seen it happen countless times.”
Luna tried hard to believe her. With all of her heart. But the situation seemed hopeless.
She walked to her office, trying to calm down. She sat in her desk chair and sighed.
That’s when she smelled it. The familiar smell from Saturday afternoon lunchtimes when she was a kid. Her dad always made the same thing…
Grilled cheese sandwiches.
There it was on her desk, this time on a paper plate. A green paper napkin sat neatly beside it. The sandwich was warm, toasted perfectly, and very tempting.
Luna wheeled herself to the door. “Charlie,” she called.
He appeared moments later. “Yes?”
Luna pointed to the evil sandwich. “Did you leave that?”
“No. I thought you were lactose intolerant.”
“Not really.” Luna sighed. “This is the second one I’ve found.”
Charlie peeled back the top layer of the sandwich. “Whoever it is seems to know you. It’s cheddar.” He seemed proud of this knowledge. “And it’s cut diagonally.”
“And what do I do with it?”
“Eat it.”
“But it could be poisoned!”
Charlie laughed at her. “You’re very stressed out. Eat the damn sandwich, and go take a look at the Fresnels. We had three blowouts.” He left.
Well. How mean was that?
She certainly wasn’t sharing her sandwich with him.
Thirty seconds later, she heard a very loud crash, and the sound of glass breaking. She dropped the half of the sandwich she’d been about to eat, and ran to the stage.
The idiot fly operator hadn’t tied his rope down right, so one of the drop-ins had fallen and hit the set. Luna prayed that the supports hadn’t snapped. That would ruin the entire structure, and it had been pre-made.
Two of the set designers dashed in to have a look. They checked it, and of course, the supports were broken. Luna swore under her breath. That set had been damn expensive to purchase.
The director chose that fine moment to come in and start yelling.
Luna dragged herself back to her office three hours later. After multiple phone calls, she had contacted her old tech director back in Michigan, and he helped fix the supports over the phone. A few extra support beams and the set was better than new. Then Luna had gone to replace light bulbs. Endless light bulbs. She was exhausted.
The cheese sandwich greeted her as she sat down. It had grown cold, as was expected, but hadn’t lost a bit of its flavor. Luna ate it without a thought; it was the first she had eaten all day.
She had just begun to relax and wonder who her mysterious sandwich maker was when something caught her eye. Faint lettering on the edge of her paper plate. She squinted and leaned in closer to make out the squiggly lettering.
G A M E
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. And damn, she had lost the game, for the first time in years. Also, all but two of her suspects had been eliminated. She knew for sure how to reach one. She reached for her cell phone and hit speed dial 5.
He hadn’t changed how he answered the phone in the past six years. “Hallo.”
Luna felt a mixture of sadness and relief wash through her. “Hi, Kitty!” she said brightly.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Where are you right now?”
“A hotel in New York, actually. Where are you?”
So he was in New York. He was local. He could be the culprit. She decided it was best to just ask. “I’m at the theatre, where else? Have you been leaving me food?”
Kit was silent for a moment. “No. I don’t think I have, anyways.”
So it wasn’t him. So it must have been… but no, it couldn’t have been. “Okay. Well, whoever it was left a special message for me.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. It reads G-A-M-E.”
“Ahhh. Thanks a lot. I haven’t lost in a while, you know.”
“Oh, no problem.” They both laughed.
“How’s the show?”
“Horrible. And I’m still waiting to hear from National Geographic.”
“Still?
“Yeah.”
“Well, good luck with that. And don’t worry too much about the show. Let’s name all of your problem shows, shall we? First, all those years ago, was Laramie. Then Dr. Seuss with the little kids. Then Phantom of the Opera, where the chandelier fell too early and smashed- although that was cool, especially how the cast handled it. And then Les Mis two years ago- that’s gotta be the worst.”
“Yeah, if Ellen had seen that, she would have cried. I’ll bet she was rolling in her grave.”
“Well, good luck. I’ll be there with Charlotte on opening night. Get it fixed, Boss Ninja.”
“Got it.”
The next afternoon, there was another sandwich on her desk. Luna took a look at it and laughed. It wasn’t there to mock her, it was there to tell her that it would be all right in the end.
“Luna! Good job! I can’t believe it!” Charlie came running after her. “This show is a huge success! And so are you!” He handed her an envelope. The return address read National Geographic. She flipped it over- it had been opened. She glared at Charlie, who grinned. “Sorry.”
She quickly read the letter. She would do assignments in-between her productions. The pay was excellent.
“You owe me dinner now,” said Charlie.
“Get lost!” She aimed a kick at him and ran off laughing.
So she had survived. She walked into her office, vaguely wondering if there would be a sandwich for her. Sure enough, there was, warm and golden, and the culprit sitting in her desk chair, grinning at her. The other friend. ✧
Zoey Delmaire Writes 