My reverie is halted by Aimee coming in to start rehearsal, having no idea that the set is so unsettling to me. To her, it’s probably a funny little thing to have it look like her parents’ house. To me, it’s time travel. A gravedigger in my repressed memories.

We’re wrapping up dress rehearsal when I say something I’ve been avoiding for two straight days.

“I have to point this out,” I say, interrupting the second act.

Aimee gestures with irritation for me to go on. “What is it?”

“Do—I mean, I’m not trying to blow up the whole—”

“Go ahead.”

“I think it doesn’t work to have Hailey tell Lola that she’s been dead the whole time. It’s a rip-off for the audience if they end up feeling fooled by Hailey. She comes off like a punishing ghost. And it doesn’t make any sense, because how would Lola not know—”

“Are you kidding right now? We can’t rewrite the whole ending, Meg!”

“I know, but it isn’t right.”

“Meg, what the hell are you suggesting? We’ve got twenty-four hours. This is actually wild.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything substantial; it’s a few lines that need to be changed. Lola should be the one to tell Ai—Hailey.” I flush at the mistake. “Lola should tell her. Because at the end of the day—”

My throat tightens.

“What?” she asks, still firm and professional.

“At the end of the day, isn’t Hailey a figment of Lola’s imagination? Hailey doesn’t know that she’s … you know, she doesn’t know. The whole thing is a metaphor for Lola to work through the fact that she hasn’t accepted her friend’s … death.”

The meta-upon-meta nature of what I’m saying is definitely not lost on me. I blink away the tears, refusing to allow them to fall.

It’s not lost on Aimee either. “That’s awfully Lola-centric, isn’t it? I mean, the whole world doesn’t revolve around Lola.”

“It makes more sense to me,” I say. “Narratively.”

She pauses, then says, “We’re leaving it. Guys, I think we’re done here.”

She goes over to her binder and grabs it off the ground. The small tech crew move slowly toward shutting the rehearsal down.

I watch Aimee go down into the seats and collect her stuff. A wave of something hot rises in me.