‘She’s nervous,’ Lucy explained.

The boy nodded and indicated for them to follow him. As they walked down the hall, Lucy said, ‘If you mess up out there, just blame it on me. Give me a dirty look or whatever.’

‘I don’t think I’m going to go on,’ Natasha said abruptly as they reached the curtain.

Natasha could see the acting troupe in the first row, their gazes critical, their posture somehow both angry and indifferent. The sight of them disturbed her. The rest of the audience was dark.

‘You have to go on.’

‘I don’t think there’s any need to. I really don’t think there’s any need to.’

‘I’m counting you in. Five, four … ’

Lucy looked at Natasha. She thought of her sitting alone in a cafe in the city. She thought of her in the unemployment building, her legs swinging on a metal seat. She knew she didn’t want to go out there. Just her taking one step onto that stage was a declaration of love.

‘Natasha.’

Natasha’s eyes didn’t move off the stage.

‘I love you,’ Lucy said. The lights hit Natasha’s face. ‘You’re on.’

SHOWTIME

Natasha walks onstage wearing her own clothes. She stands in the middle of the stage. From a megaphone offstage, Lucy calls out, ‘Natasha, welcome to the unemployment building.’

‘Thank you for having me,’ Natasha says.

‘Your number is 32. There is nothing to do except cooperate, do you understand?’

‘I understand.’

‘Under disabilities, you’ve listed a non-specific disorder.’

‘Yes,’ Natasha says.

‘Under employment history, you’ve listed none.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Under reason you can’t work you’ve written: “I’m tired of acting normal.”’

‘That came to me after a considered assessment.’

‘Natasha, you have to do things our way.’

‘No,’ Natasha says.

‘No?’ Lucy bellows.

‘No.’

‘You won’t do things our way?’

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha can see Lucy pulling on her costume, the megaphone in her right hand.

‘Not tonight,’ Natasha says. ‘Tonight you’re doing things our way.’

The lights go down.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my great pleasure to introduce Lucy.’

Natasha disappears behind the curtain and pulls Lucy out on a chaise longue on wheels. Lucy is wearing a fluffy, see-through robe over a pink negligee. She is sprawled across the couch and is holding an old-style telephone in her hand. She rests on her left elbow, facing the audience.

‘Oh baby, I know, I know,’ Lucy says into the telephone. ‘Oh I know, it’s awful to be so in love. I will see what I’m doing on Saturday.’

She puts down the phone. It starts ringing again, urgently, a high, shrill sound. Lucy slips on a pair of pom-pom slippers and answers. ‘I will see what I’m doing Saturday,’ she says. ‘It’s hard to be so in love, but you will relax into it, you will get used to it. That’s my advice.’

She puts down the phone and pushes a lock of hair out of her face. ‘My phone never stops ringing,’ she says to the audience. ‘That’s just the way it is.’