At First Sight
Over 12 years ago, I saw him when I walked into the rehearsal for “Emma.” I was semi-anxious to meet him since I was a latecomer to the cast, and I would be playing opposite him as the title role in Jane Austen’s novel set to the stage.
My first impression informed me that he was charming and well-spoken, and so mannerly and exuberant that I vaguely suspected he was gay….this was theatre after all. We worked well together, and soon became great friends. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my need for a friend was quite intense, as I had recently moved from a large city to a smaller one and was estranged from my husband, who I realized four months into the marriage I had married in (huge, unmistakable) error.
At this point I was also newly and unexpectedly pregnant, which complicated the situation further and pushed me beyond the pale of relationship blunders as far as polite society was concerned. You can imagine my horror to discover that I was a once-single mother, finally married off and settled as cultural mores ordained, only to realize that a huge mistake has been made….but I would have been untrue to my own self had I not decided to leave the alcohol-soaked bridegroom who thought it quaint to shove his fist into my face. Society, I decided, could suck it.
In addition to taking on the role in “Emma,” my theatre internship and teaching position there were the only bright lights streaking through the clouds other than my oldest son, who was then a mere two and a half years of age. Landing a role in this play was a great distraction from all the turmoil, and surprisingly, when I was in the theatre I felt less fragile, less impacted by the realization that I had failed at the grand scheme of marital bliss. In the theatre I could just let myself sink into the story, becoming someone else who did not even exist. It was quite cathartic just to let all of the sludge of failure go, even if I had to confront it again when I walked out the theatre doors.
As time went on, I not only grew closer to Mr. K, but I also started to reflect on just how I might want to be treated in a relationship, something I had not seriously given thought to before. Steeped in Emma’s world of Regency-era mannerisms and her own rebellion against what was expected of her, I started to realize that I had behaved a good deal as Emma had, blundering around and making choices that were ill-thought out, but seemed like great ideas at the time. I thought I knew everything about relationships and the world, when in fact I knew about as much as you could fit on a grain of rice, nestled right next to a teeny reproduction of an impressionist painting.
It even became readily apparent that my stabbing attempts at being an adult were a subaltern’s version of “Emma” itself (herself?). While believing that I knew what was right for everyone and that I was such a wizened old soul that I could always make the best decisions, I lacked the foresight to find my own happiness. But, just as Emma discovered…..the person who could make me most happy was there all along, politely waiting until I realized on my own.
It is only after the passage of all these years that I can see things so clearly. The day to day rigors of life tend to grind you down, occupy your time, and keep you from reflecting on the bigger picture, a situation of shortsightedness where frustrations and sweating the small stuff can whip the brain into a fever pitch over nothing at all. Mr. K has told me countless times that he has learned so much from me, but I think it is the other way around….in his own wise way, he showed me how to bring out the best in myself.
“I do want you to be honest. So tell me, have I no chance of succeeding? My dearest Emma, for that is what you always have been, and you always will be. My most beloved Emma. I cannot make speeches, for if I loved you less, I may be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. I have lectured you, and scolded you, and you have borne it as no other woman would have. You will get nothing but the truth from me. So tell me what you think.”
Mr. Knightly, “Emma”
