Joined at the Hip

My BFF Viola and I officially met at rehearsal for Anne of Green Gables.

I say officially because I knew who she was before that. We were in the same theatre class, where she was one Viola of many Violas. When the teacher called roll on the first day of class, I thought, "Not another Viola!"

When Anne of Green Gables rehearsal rolled around, I learned that I had the same role as the superfluous Viola. I also had a cough, as I often do when I need to be very, very quiet and very, very still: during a priesthood blessing. As a visitor at Mass. And, in this instance, on the first day of rehearsal.

After meeting each other, all the counterparts sat next to each other in a big circle while the director outlined the details of our production.

I listened as politely as I could whilst hacking up my lungs.

"Are you okay?" Viola whispered. She thought I was going to die.

"I'm fine," I whispered back. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment.

"Okay," Viola said, but I'm pretty sure I saw her sneaking peeks at me like she thought I might kick the bucket at any moment.

I wrote in my journal that I thought Viola was nice and that I liked her. What I didn't write down was how much she bewildered me.

When Viola wasn't onstage, she would make small talk with the kids playing Anne and Gilbert. When I wasn't onstage, I would read.

It didn't occur to me to strike up any conversations. At that age, I rarely talked to anyone, and consequently nobody really ever talked to me. So when Viola not only would talk to me but talked nonstop, I didn't even know what to do with myself.

So I said a lot of, "Yeah"s and "Uh-huh"s and tried to read my book. After a while, the book became nothing but a prop. It hardly ever got read. I was too busy listening (and, eventually, talking) to Viola.

The role we took turns playing was that of Diana Barry, Anne's best friend. As the performances drew closer, we started to get together outside of rehearsal to practice the blocking for our difficult scenes. And then to half-practice, half-mock our lines. And then not to work on the play at all but just to hang out.

And one day, our director looked at us and smiled and said, "Our two little Dianas, joined at the hip."

And we were like, "Dang straight on that metaphor. We are so close that if you wanted to separate us, a surgical procedure would be required."

Anne and Diana were best friends. And so were (are) Viola and I.