There were three stories being told: the love triangle, the prank on Malvolio, and a third that was small but crucial to Twelfth Night’s conclusion—the story of Viola’s twin brother, Sebastian. After the shipwreck, Sebastian was rescued by a man named Antonio. Antonio nursed him to health, cared for him, and even agreed to accompany him to Illyria (despite being the sworn enemy of Duke Orsino), paying for all Sebastian’s expenses. He cared for Sebastian so damn much, it was almost certainly romantic in nature—although it was never explicitly stated in the play. During this trip, Sebastian accidentally met Olivia, who was convinced he was Cesario. Sebastian was like “Ooh, pretty girl!” and Olivia was like “Cesario loves me!” and they immediately got married before the wisdom of time could allow them to question their poor decision-making skills. Meanwhile, Antonio got arrested by Duke Orsino’s men. Poor bastard.

I was only in makeup in the beginning shipwreck scene. From then on—in the employment of Duke Orsino—Viola wore a bright blue waistcoat with big gold buttons, a white shirt with parachutes for sleeves, a cravat (which—speaking of identity crises—was something between a tie and a scarf, but clearly not either), breeches, stockings, and brass-buckle shoes. I was just the cutest little gent you ever did see.

Actually, I take that back. Holden was wearing a similar outfit, but with a darker waistcoat and cravat, and standing at five foot nothing, he was the cutest little gent you ever did see. Especially when Duke Orsino was angry.

In act 5, shit hit the fan. Duke Orsino arrived at Olivia’s estate, learning of her marriage to a man she believed to be Cesario. Surely, his best bro had betrayed him hard-core. Meanwhile, Viola (the “real” Cesario) was caught in the cross fire.

“O thou dissembling cub!” said Holden in furious lamentation. “What wilt thou be when time hath sow’d a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow that thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet where thou and I henceforth may never meet.”

“My lord, I do protest—” I said.

“O! do not swear!” said Imogen, touching my shoulder. “Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.”

Imogen was wearing a froofy white dress, both elegant and kind of ridiculous. When she touched me, I didn’t freeze up or shudder like I might have a month ago. I was very much in my role: a girl, dressed as a boy, secretly in love with a really stupid duke.

It was an odd thing, the way that Holden, Imogen, and I had such chemistry on the stage, and yet, the moment we were outside our roles, the walls were up, and we were back to not being friends. Back to not even talking to each other.