ELLA1

When Ella was twenty-five, she joined an acting group. Though outgoing and vivacious, she found it hard to make herself known and truly connect with those around her in her first few months there. She had a budding passion for theatre. She wanted starring roles in shows, but felt neither bold nor integrated enough in the company to make her full talents known. She settled for a backing role in her first production, watching from the side as loud, boisterous women took centre stage, making notes mentally.

She joined theatre because salsa, another hobby of hers, along with her dead-end shop job had become tedious. She wanted to meet new people. Working as a retail assistant 6 days a week, she craved Wednesday nights at theatre when she could take off her fitted black work trousers and blazer with her name tag on it. ‘Ella Burns’.

Taking them off was like shedding a skin that wasn’t hers; she would do her makeup properly and change into jeans and a sparkly fitted top, sidling into the hall where she rehearsed and standing at the back, as if the last 8 hours of the stifling shop floor hadn’t happened. Each day there was an assault to her senses. From the men that leered at her as she folded jumpers and kept her eyes down pretending not to feel their gaze, to the old, wrinkled women that spoke to her as if she were a child, sighing and puffing when she didn’t have their size, ambling out the automatic doors in pairs, she felt herself fragment as every hour passed.

She always acted like she didn’t care. She wondered if her co-workers felt the same discomfort every day of servitude, or if they were actually as ambivalent as they made out; some of the girls were like robots, letting rude comments run off them like water. A puddle of discontentment grew deeper every day.

They looked at her strangely when she mentioned her new hobby. Their lives revolved around their jobs, makeup, and men. Those that were single stood in the stockroom with their phones out, propped against the brick wall, analysing and dissecting messages from men, tutting at their mistakes and failure to give them what they wanted.

Ella played along, interjecting with appropriate sighs and gestures when she had a few minutes away from the shop floor to talk to the other girls and hang up clothes. It was during these moments she brought up her acting. One of the girls looked up from her phone, confused at the change of topic: ‘Why you doing that?’. She seemed almost accusatory; her gaze was violent. Ella shrugged and went back to the shop floor.

Most of the time she felt cut off from her environment. Her manager said she was an asset; she looked good and always attracted the right attention to the shop; she smiled and was bubbly, he said. Maybe if she played her cards right, she would be promoted to assistant manager. The other girls knew he liked her. She did everything she could not to show through.

**********

When she wasn’t working or out at her hobbies, she lived at home with her parents. They lived in a small flat about twenty minutes from the city centre, and she could easily commute via bus to her job, which was essential because she couldn’t drive, and couldn’t afford to learn. The flat was nice but too small for her and her parents now she was an adult. She had everything she needed there, except privacy and independence. She sometimes longed to come home and order greasy takeaway, but she knew her parents would disapprove. Having boys round was also a problem; she chatted to a few guys on dating apps, but they ghosted her when she mentioned her living situation.

Some evenings, she would sit with her parents eating dinner, talking as a formality before she could finally slouch in front of her laptop. Taking a sip of water, her mum would look up and meet her gaze. Ella’s stomach would sink as she knew what the look meant:

‘So, how’s work? Met any nice men?’

Her dad would look up too, chewing loudly to mask the dingy silence and tension. She’d shrug and laugh, shaking her head. Her mum would nod and go back to her water, her mouth a slanted snear.

Sometimes, she’d look away when her smile trembled, and wonder why she bothered smiling at all.

***********

Her salsa friends were the only true friends she had then. A group of boys and a few girls, they would get beers after classes and gossip about other people in the group. She had dated a guy there years ago, but the romance had faded and become a jovial friendship.

The first time Ella met Jake was 5 years ago. Honestly, she didn’t really think much of him at the time. He wasn’t really her type. He was balding by the time he turned twenty four, and he didn’t hang out with the same crowd as her. He was quiet and reserved, whereas she was full of energy and spirited. They got to know each other through salsa dance classes she did with friends. She was never paired with him, so they didn’t have much reason to talk, and she was often unsure why he came along at all. She usually danced with her other male friends. When she did talk to Jake, it was either small talk or as part of a larger group. He never had that much to say.