Chapter 11 Stevie
Stevie
Come what may .
Solid life advice, on par with “let it be” or “for better or worse.” They are hollow words for some people, but to me, they are a guiding principle: take things as they come, roll with the punches, and embrace every uncertainty.
It often feels like I’m walking a tightrope without a net, but I always find my balance.
I just can’t look down or let fear take over.
“Come What May” happens to be the song we’re working on at today’s practice as we inch closer to opening night.
It’s beautiful. It’s a climactic moment in the show, filled with impact and emotion.
It showcases the depth of the characters’ feelings for each other and their determination to face whatever challenges come their way, regardless of the consequences.
It’s my favorite of all the musical pieces.
It’s a true love song, an overture of sweeping melodies that underscores the gravity of Christian and Satine’s forbidden and tragic circumstances.
“Cut!” Mr. Hamlin cuts us off mid-scene, just as I am mustering a fair amount of tears for Lex. “Start again. I know you’re both tired, but we only have two more rehearsals before Thanksgiving break as we gear up for opening night.”
“What was wrong with that?” Lex looks damn near exhausted as he rubs a hand over his face, forehead to jaw. “Stevie nailed her harmonies.”
I send him a soft smile from across the stage.
I’m tired too.
We’ve upped our practices to four to five days a week now that opening night is looming around the corner.
Background dancers and side characters aren’t required to come as often, but Lex and I haven’t missed a single session.
I suppose it’s good discipline that will prepare me for future acting roles and movie sets.
It’s just not easy when I’m also juggling homework, family responsibilities, and social commitments.
“Nothing was wrong, per se,” Mr. Hamlin says, tapping an index finger to his lips. “But it wasn’t quite right.”
Lex sighs wearily. “That makes total sense.”
“Something is missing. The chemistry is there, no doubt.” Mr. Hamlin turns his attention to Lex. “You just seem a bit…distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
Lex’s defenses flare, while I obsess over the word chemistry and nearly melt into the sprung floors.
Mr. Hamlin makes a humming noise as his eyes narrow with consideration. “All right. Let’s pivot to something with a little more fire so we can amp up the energy. How about we rehearse ‘El Tango de Roxanne,’ and we’ll come back to this scene tomorrow.”
The first kiss.
While we’ve rehearsed the song plenty of times, we have yet to lock lips.
Mr. Hamlin told us they only needed to be quick pecks, so I don’t know why I’m nervous about it.
I figured Lex would be eager for the kissing part, considering he’s a teenage boy, but he hasn’t shown much interest. On the contrary, he seems nervous too. And that has only heightened my nerves.
My face breaks out into a flush as I swallow down the dry lump in my throat. “Sounds good. I’m ready.”
Mr. Hamlin veers off to speak with the music director, and Lex deflates in front of me, his shoulders slumping. I’ll admit Mr. Hamlin wasn’t wrong; Lex does seem distracted today.
I take a step forward. “Are you okay?”
He rubs his forehead with two fingers and averts his eyes. “Why does everyone think something’s wrong? I’m fine. Good. Fucking peachy.”
“You seem agitated.”
“I’m always agitated.”
Glancing away, I tuck my hair behind my ears. “Well, maybe this will be a good scene to practice. Your character is in a state of despair after all.” Makes sense that Mr. Hamlin wanted to pivot.
Lex doesn’t respond.
We take our places when Mr. Hamlin returns.
The strobes beam hot pink for a moment, the lighting techs still working out the kinks, but then they shift to dark red and moody.
There’s another character in this bit—the duke, played by my friend Jameson.
He’s the antagonist in the show, the jagged wedge between Christian and Satine.
The song begins as half the background dancers sweep across the stage with flashy footwork, and Lex morphs into his role with ease.
Passion.
Pain.
Jealousy.
Jameson charges toward me with a predatory gait, a possessive power play.
His movements are forceful, his grip firm, as we perform a combative tango, and I showcase my reluctance with well-timed pullbacks.
Lex watches from the other side of the stage, his energy a toxic mix of heat and envy before beginning his heartrending solo of “Roxanne.”
He watches us dance, pacing the stage with frenzied steps, falling to his knees, pulling his hair in agony.
My eyes are on him, never on Jameson, as I’m dipped and twirled and torn in two.
Lex shouts my name in two tortured syllables as the music crescendos, severing the volatile dance between me and Jameson.
The song transitions, an interplay of soft chords and melancholy notes.
I watch the light move, illuminating Lex as I break away from Jameson’s grasp and rush toward my counterpart, my heart tap-dancing in my chest, my feet caressing the stage with the grace of a ballerina.
Our backdrop fades as a single spotlight isolates us from the danger and chaos.
I stop in front of him.
Lex’s eyes glow with crystalline pain, his body trembling as he reaches out for me. We stand there, inches apart, the air thickening, oxygen whooshing from my lungs.
This is usually the part where Mr. Hamlin yells “Cut!”
But he doesn’t, not today. He allows the moment to unfold to completion as Lex cups my face with both palms, a desperate, gentle touch.
The melody is a cocoon, his hands on my cheeks a blanket.
My breath catches as I stare into his eyes, and he stares back, and the moment stretches like a fragile thread of suspended time.
He leans in.
My legs shake.
I grip his biceps to keep myself from buckling. My lashes flutter, eyelids close. I feel his warm breath skim across my face as I wait for the moment I’ve been both dreading and dreaming of at the same time.
Lex presses a quick, close-lipped kiss to my mouth.
And then he pulls back.
A chill sweeps through me the second he’s gone, and my eyes shoot open. My body wavers with no anchor now that he’s standing nearly three feet away.
That was it?
I don’t know why I was expecting more. He didn’t break the script.
But I guess…part of me wanted him to.
“That was exceptional ,” Mr. Hamlin calls out, looking newly giddy as the brassy lights flicker back on and the music tapers off. He skips toward us, but it’s more than a skip. It’s a frolic.
I clear my throat as I pull my hair over both shoulders in an attempt to hide the heatstroke inhabiting my cheeks. When I glance at Lex, he’s not looking at me. He’s positively engrossed in his fingernails.
I feel rattled from head to toe as I take a few steps back, nearing the edge of the stage. And I guess I take one too many steps, because that’s when my worst nightmare explodes to life.
It all happens so fast.
My equilibrium is compromised, my knees wobbling as I inch back, back, back.
A misstep.
No more platform.
A downward plummet.
Gasps ring out as I lose my footing, topple backward off the stage, and crash-land a few feet below like a dropped sack of potatoes.
Shit.
I’m pretty sure I black out momentarily because when my vision settles, two Lexes are looming over me, and I think they both want to give me mouth-to-mouth.
“Is this still…the kissing scene…” I mumble, little bluebirds fluttering behind my eyes, tweeting sweet songs from a planet far, far away.
“Jesus, Stevie.”
He’s Jesus. I’m dead.
I blink a thousand times until his two faces morph into one and things start coming into focus. Slow-motion bursts of movement streak across my periphery, and muddled chatter filters into my ears. A hand caresses my cheek. Warm, tethering, soft. It makes me want to close my eyes again.
“Back away! Alice, call for an ambulance.”
Mr. Hamlin sounds frantic, and I wonder if I look as bad as I feel. My head pounds. My tailbone throbs. But the hand on my cheek feels nice.
“Talk to me. Say something.” Lex’s eyes are bluer than ever, but that could be my brain misfiring. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“Oh my God, is she okay?” Natalie appears like an inky princess with jet-black hair and dark eyes. She latches on to Lex’s arm, but he wrenches himself free.
Jameson is hovering over me now, checking for signs of life.
Too many people. Too many faces.
“I’m…fine.” I lift up on my elbows and blink a few more times until the haze clears. “Walking is hard sometimes.”
“Good lord, Stevie,” Mr. Hamlin says, crouching beside me.
Wincing, I rub the back of my head and sit upright. “Don’t worry. My family can’t afford to sue.”
Mr. Hamlin peers down at me with concern. “The ambulance is on the way.”
“No, no…I’m okay, I swear. I don’t need an ambulance.”
Jameson reaches for my hand and pulls me to my feet. “Damn, Stevie. You good?”
“I got her.” Lex forces his way between us, but Jameson doesn’t let go. “Back the fuck up. I said I got her.”
Jameson shoves at his chest. “Jeez, man, calm down. I’m just trying to help.”
“You can help by taking your fucking hands off her.” Lex pushes back, angrier, with more force.
Before a fight can break out, Mr. Hamlin wedges himself between the two of them, his face as pink as his suspenders. “Knock it off, both of you. Control yourselves.” He turns to me. “Are you sure you’re all right, Stevie? If you’re certain, I’ll call off the ambulance.”
Lex snags me by the wrist. I wobble against him, planting both palms against his chest for steadiness. “I’m fine. Promise. Just bumped my head a little,” I say. “I’ll take a quick break, and then we can go back to the scene.”