"Hi," he said with a crooked smile, "my name is Todd. I'll be auditioning for the role of Hamlet." As he took the stage and began his monologue, she stopped her conversation with her stage manager. She was riveted. She'd been directing since college, and only once before had she been so captivated by an actor. She stared at him as he spoke; he was tall, brown hair, piercing blue eyes, good body—he had forgotten to shave that morning, giving him a darker, more brooding look. When she was able to tear herself away from his looks, she realized he also had a certain something—his performance was compelling and powerful. She wanted him, and at the time, she thought it was just for his talent.
When she posted the cast list the next day, she stood in the hallway as she always did to gauge the reactions of the students when they received their roles. It always pained her to see the disappointed ones who hadn't made the cut, but she loved to watch the excitement when a student saw their name on the list, sometimes for the first time. For some reason, she was compelled to see Todd's reaction. As she stood there, she watched the ecstatic cries of joy from those cast as Ophelia, Claudius, Gertrude, and all the others, and she found herself impatient to see Todd. Where was he? All the other actors had come and gone. She was worried. What if he didn't want the part, or what if he assumed he hadn't made it, so he just didn't bother to show up. She had never seen him at auditions before, which meant he was either a freshman, or he just had never tried before. She went back in to her office and began to look again at her cast selection, deciding who she could put in the role of Hamlet. As she was looking over her notes, she heard a tentative knock on her door. When she turned, it was Todd. He had that same crooked smile, and he looked a little embarrassed.
"Can I help you," she said, trying not to seem excited.
"Well, I guess. Are you Professor Stinson?"
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"Well, my name is Todd Lawrence, and it seems that you've just cast me as Hamlet."
"Yes, I did. Congratulations."
"Are you sure you meant me? I mean, I'm just a freshman, and I've never been onstage before"
"Well, Todd, that may be true, but you are a natural. I was very impressed with your audition. I am looking forward to working with you. Our first rehearsal is tomorrow night at 8:00." She stood up and crossed to him, holding out her hand for a congratulatory handshake. He hesitated a little, but then grasped her hand firmly, sending an electric shock through her.
"Well, thanks. See you tomorrow." He released her hand and walked away.
She had to sit down quickly after he let her go. If she didn't know better, she'd think she was attracted to him. But in her head, she knew that was impossible. She was in her forties, and he was eighteen. It would be inappropriate, and unprofessional. She settled herself down, put him out her mind, and prepared for the next day's rehearsal.
The next day's rehearsal went very smoothly. All the cast were excited about their parts, and she could tell that all of them were right for their parts. She was also very pleased to see instant chemistry between Todd and Shana, the young lady who was playing Ophelia. When rehearsal ended that night, she watched the two of them head off towards the campus café to have some coffee, and she knew she had a successful production on her hands.
As rehearsals progressed, she was pleased to see everyone living up to their potential. Everyone was learning their lines, and their blocking. The costumes and sets were developing each night, and she was beginning to see the end product. Amongst all the progress, there was one dark spot. The confrontation between Ophelia and Hamlet. In the original script, Ophelia tells her father of Hamlet coming to her room to torment her—in her version, she made it a flashback that the audience could see. It was her attempt to show the passion that Hamlet has for Ophelia to show the audience that he truly despises himself for what he does for her, leading him to fling himself into her grave when he discovers her death. At the end of the scene, Hamlet is supposed to press Ophelia up against the wall and passionately kiss her, then run his hands up and down her body, feeling every part of her, then leave her, breathless. The chemistry that Professor Stinson had seen on the first night was there, but for some reason, Todd and Shana were hesitant in rehearsal.
One night, about four weeks into production, she asked Shana and Todd to stay after everyone had left. She thought perhaps they were just intimidated by so many eyes watching. They began the scene, and while it was better, it was still missing something. The kiss wasn't deep enough, and there was too much space between their bodies. They continued to rehearse, and she realized that it wasn't just the scene that was bothering her—it was the interaction between the two. As she watched Todd press Shana to the wall for the fourth time that night, her stomach flipped. She was getting turned on. She could feel herself getting wet watching him thrust his tongue into her mouth, and press his hands to her body. She watched, getting aroused, but at the same time, angry that it just wasn't right. She realized that she wasn't looking at the two of them—she was looking at Todd. She was jealous. It wasn't that the scene wasn't right, it was fine—it wasn't what she wanted, because she wanted to be there—she wanted to be Ophelia. "Take five" she said, and quickly left the room. She rushed to her office and closed the door.
"What am I going to do?" she thought, "this can't be happening." In ten years as a college professor, she had never once been attracted to one of her students. She had directed love scenes before, but she had never reacted this way. As an actress, she had performed love scenes, and it had never felt like this. As she stared at her script for Hamlet, she remembered the jolt when he had shaken her hand that first night. She also began to recall all the looks she had passed his way during rehearsals, all the physical closeness they had shared—guiding him physically to his proper place on stage, the touches on the arm when she was explaining character motivations, the specificity of her emotional directions to his character. She had thought she was directing him, but in reality, she had been flirting, and she realized that she wanted him, and that the scene she had created for him and Shana was her fantasy, alive on stage. She slid her hand between her legs and realized how much she wanted him. "No," she thought, "I can't. He's only eighteen, I'm his professor. I'll lose my job." She steeled herself and headed back to the stage. "Thank you, Shana and Todd. It's looking much better. I'll see you both tomorrow." They headed toward the back of the theatre, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Shana kiss Todd passionately. "So, they really are a couple," she thought, "that's good." He whispered something to her and she left.
"Professor Stinson?"
"Yes, Todd," she said, trying to keep her voice flat.
"Be honest. How does that scene really look?"
"It looks fine. It is very clear that Hamlet and Ophelia have a long standing passionate relationship."
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"There's just something missing. I know I'm not an experienced actor, but it doesn't feel right."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, whenever I do other parts of the play, I feel them. When I am confronting my mother, I feel the rage. When I kill Polonius, I feel the anger and the madness. I don't feel the passion."
"Well, it certainly looks it. Besides, I know you and Shana are an item, so just let your natural passions for each other show on stage, and it will be fine."
"That's just it. Shana is much more into the couple thing than I am."
"Oh, I see."
"It just sort of happened. I'm not really all that interested in her. I mean, she's hot and all, but . . ."
