Chapter 26 An Imaginary Future
AN IMAGINARY FUTURE
LEAH
Ididn’t know what I would do without my massage therapists. Throughout my life, I injured myself in the dumbest ways. On only our third week running through the full show, I pretended to tap dance in inappropriate footwear during rehearsal and ended up with a tight hammy I couldn’t shape.
Some stars of my caliber would have thrown their weight around and called in the understudy.
I wasn’t keen to. It was a matter of pride for me to do as many performances as I could on this run.
Not wanting to give up ingenue status and arrange for a career retrospective, I scheduled body work and leaned into playing the aging star on a massage table.
“We got old, Roughy,” Lourdes sighed. “Old, divorced, sad.”
She handed me the glass of whiskey we shared as she iced a sore ankle.
“You’re divorced. I’m just old.” I sniggered and passed the glass back.
“How do you have cut crystal in here?” Lourdes remarked.
“A gift from my aunt.”
“Oh, just rub it in, huh?” Lourdes giggled.
“Didn’t say which aunt!”
“Aren’t both your aunts queens?” Lourdes asked.
I thought for a moment. “Yeah. But, for the record, those are from my Aunt Kiersten and Uncle Olav. They have sentimental value. I rarely use them unless I have company, but they remind me of performing at the opera house in Oslo.”
She let out a long, sad sigh. “What were you doing in Oslo then?”
“Uh, I was doing an operetta,” I answered. “Something experimental. Didn’t take off. But the composer needed a soprano.”
“Ugh,” she groaned.
“We are both sopranos!”
“Yes, but of different vocal type. They wanted someone with your vibrato.”
“I wish I could get rid of it. Trust me.”
“No, you don’t. It makes you different from so many who would sing through their noses to project with a tinny tone.”
“Your voice isn’t tinny, Lou.”
“I know,” she said. “I wasn’t saying that. But that’s why Bob picked you for Oklahoma.”
She was talking about me being cast as Laurey in Oklahoma! The two of us were in face-off mode over the thing. He went with me, making my life. It remained my favorite musical, even after doing that revival for over a year straight.
“Lourdes, let it go. You’d never have gotten Phantom if I didn’t get Oklahoma!.” She’d been cast as Christine about a month later.
“I am a better Christine.”
“It’s not a competition,” I said. “God, what are you up to? After this?”
“Trying to avoid everyone,” Lourdes groaned.
“I’ll join you. Where are you going?”
“The Hilbert.”
“The what now?”
“It’s a piano bar speakeasy in the basement of a hotel. Come on, we’ll have loads of fun. Let’s go get a proper drink and enjoy our lives.”
I couldn’t say no to her. After my rub down, I popped on flats, and we took my car over to the piano bar in question.
We entered through a back door through a service hallway and down a flight of stairs into pure darkness.
A man pulled a curtain back for us. It was dark, lit only by tiny lamps and candles, and there was a jazz singer and a piano player on a tiny stage. It didn’t look half bad.
We posted up at the bar, grateful for the cover of night. The minute anyone recognized one of us, it was curtains.
“You ladies going to have another?” The barkeep asked as I finished some fancy drink.
“Yes, please,” Lourdes answered, knowing I would say no.
“Sure, why not?” I grimaced, handing him my card. “Just keep it open, I guess? Put hers on mine.”
“Oh, darling, you don’t have to,” Lourdes said.
“Are you going to start paying your way now, sweetheart?” I joked.
She shook her head and burst into a fit of giggles. I did the same. The barkeep stared, holding my card.
“Problem?” I asked, confused.
“You’re… you’re… the princess?”
Cringe.
“Incorrect,” I said. “Just a regular girl.”
“Born to a prince, yeah?” Lourdes said a bit too loudly.
I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this.
“Well, but you’re the big star!”
“I’m one of two big stars here,” I said. “My friend Lourdes plays Princess Alexandra. She’s the yin to my yang.”
“You want to play while our talent is on break?” A big grin crossed his face.
Lourdes wanted to say no, but I stared at her. I wanted this.
“This is your idea of a low profile?” Lourdes asked
“We can do ‘The Thing About Bertie’?”
“I just did that three hours ago. For pay!”
“C’mon. It’ll be fun. Dueling sopranos. I will play.”
“Fine, fine,” Lourdes agreed. “Only because I love you.”
We made our way onstage while the pianist took a break.
Lourdes approached the mic, “We are Just Two Sopranos, and this is a little ditty we like to call ‘The Thing About Bertie’.”
A few people clapped, confused. And yet, I began to play the melody best as I could remember its piano adaptation. I could do it by heart—though not as well as a professional.
The song was a dueling feat, pitting two sopranos against one another and a fugue-like melody that only kept increasing in speed.
Some people called it Da Zuabler Flute for musical theatre.
Keeping my vocal cords in good enough health to perform the song was enough of a task.
Still, I was drunk, stupid, and wanted to have fun with my old friend.
Our coach would have a field day with us.
We gave a better performance than we did hours before to a packed house in previews.
I felt free, light, and young again. As I dropped my hands to my sides, signaling the end of the performance, I was alive.
I’m back. Lourdes smiled at me broadly as ever.
She grabbed me by the hand, pulling me before the tiny stage.
We bowed for dramatic effect and slunk back to the bar.
No one knew who we were. It was the perfect crime.
“Best night in a long time,” I said.
“Agreed. Never leave me, darling.”
“I don’t plan to,” I promised.
“Leah?” A voice asked.
I turned, my face erupting in a smile as I saw Mac. “Mac? Holy shit! Where did you come from?”
“I was in the back with Frankie. She just left with friends, but she’s in town visiting a friend. We saw your little charade,” he said.
The barkeep arrived, knowing to cash me out.
“It’s a small world. Oh, God, I’m so embarrassed!”
“Nah, don’t be,” Mac said. “People pay thousands for a front-row seat to see that. You brought it to the people.”
“Yes, I was just in a benevolent eat-the-rich phase,” I joked.
He snickered.
“Oh, it’s that cute friend of yours!” Lourdes finally put it together.
“Lourdes, right?” Mac asked.
She nodded “Nice to meet you again properly.”
“Brilliant job out there,” Mac said. “You were dynamite.”
“I try, darling, I try,” Lourdes tossed hair over her shoulder.
I giggled. “Stay humble, girl.”
“You should not judge. Darling, sit with us,” Lourdes insisted.
“Oh, I was just cashing out.”
“Well, you can stay awhile,” Lourdes insisted.
Mac sat at the bar beside me.
“You can drink the rest of mine. I am cutting myself off,” I whispered and slid it across the bar.
“Off to the loo!” Lourdes announced.
“She’s pissed off her head.”
“I figured. You’re doing—”
I finished his sentence. “The accent again. Apologies. We need to roll her into bed. We must be at the theatre tomorrow in like ten hours for warmups.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah. Help me, please?” I pleaded.
“Sure,” he agreed.
When Lourdes returned, we wrapped up the bill and rushed out the back.
We piled into my waiting car, making it two blocks before Lourdes felt sick.
Because I was a good friend, I held her hair while she wretched into the sewer.
Mac stepped out with a small travel size thing of tissues to help her dab up the bit of vomit on her shoes.
Once Lourdes could breathe again, we dashed back towards Lourdes’s loft where we rolled her into bed.
“Thanks for helping,” I said.
“Of course. Lou is a riot. Can I call a cab? Take you home? Mum would kill me if anything happened to you—”
“No. I am going to sleep here and make sure she’s okay,” I said.
“Is that hard for you? All of this?”
I shrugged. “Maybe? All I know is that I am getting through it one day at a time.”
As Mac left, I tucked into bed by Lourdes.
By now, she was dead to the world getting much-needed rest. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness every time I got close to her.
It was easy to put my feelings on a shelf when we were out and being fabulous.
It was difficult at moments like this where I longed to cuddle with her and imagine an actual future together.