Chapter 24 Aria
ARIA
I’ve directed children’s musicals with sold-out opening nights before, but this is the first time I’ve actually been nervous.
Surprisingly, I’m not nervous about how the cast will perform or whether or not the technical cues will go off without a hitch.
I’m not even anxious about how the show will be received. I think it’s all going to be fine.
“It’s gonna be fine,” Chloe barks at me, as she zips past, dressed all in black. She’s got her headset on and her gigantic binder under her arm. She thinks I’m anxious about the production. I’m not. Chloe’s got this.
I’m nervous because this is the first time the entire family of the man I’ve fallen in love with has attended one of my shows.
Normally I’d be out there in the audience.
Tonight I’ll be watching the monitors in the control booth.
As I peek through the curtains, I recognize everyone who shares Miles Brodie’s DNA immediately.
Dylan is with a beautiful woman and a boy who’s around Macy’s age, and he looks so happy.
Owen, the comedian, is with his son and his pretty fiancée, and they’re all laughing with each other.
The man and woman who created and raised those Brodie brothers are exactly as good-looking as I’d expected them to be.
His father is remarkably laid-back, and his mother appears to be minding absolutely everyone’s business.
She’s stunning, though. I see Shane Miller and his wife and ex-wife in the same row with them, as well as an elderly, impish woman who seems to be silently judging the whole world while smirking.
She’s wearing a T-shirt that says, I’m here for the Miller twins.
I’ve gotten used to the swoony butterflies that have taken up residence in my stomach ever since that first time Miles sang to me in my empty guest house, but they’re on crack tonight.
The one person who could calm me down has to keep his lips and hands and other parts away from me when Macy’s around. And boy, oh boy, is Macy around.
I’m not saying she’s a diva, but she has really grown into her role as the star of the show.
She struts around backstage like she owns the place.
I’d rather she do that than be an insecure, nervous wreck who needs her hand held all the time.
And while she may not sound like the next Idina Menzel yet, she did earn the part I gave her, just as Miles promised she would.
I just hope she lets me earn the part of Daddy’s New Girlfriend when the time comes for that casting announcement.
This theatre only has two backstage dressing rooms. It’s twenty minutes to curtain, so I go to the girls’ dressing room to check on Macy.
She has so many flower arrangements and cards around her portion of the counter, there’s barely enough room for her script and the little hair and makeup kit that I gave all the actresses as opening night presents.
Macy’s staring at herself in the mirror while doing lip trills—part of her vocal warmup routine.
“Hey there, Miss Alice.”
She does another lip trill before saying, “Helloooo, Miss Aria.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I can’t wait for the show to start.”
“Really? I’m so glad to hear that. Good for you.”
“Oh! Is my dad here?!”
“Yes. He’s here. The whole cast is here.”
“Okay good. Because we didn’t come here together. It’s so unfair that I’m not allowed to have my own phone. Oh! I almost forgot!” She hands me an envelope with my name written on it in bubble letters. “This is for you. I made it.”
I open it and find a card with a colored pencil drawing of Alice with the Cheshire Cat and a blonde girl on a surfboard who’s wearing a crown on her head and pointing at them. I assume that’s me. Inside the card, in careful cursive writing, it says:
Thank you for helping me find my voice.
Love, Macy Brodie
The tip of my nose feels all tingly. “Aww, Macy. I love this. You’re welcome.” She stands up to hug me. It’s the first time she’s done it since our first voice lesson. “You really did all the work.”
“I know.” She tosses her hair and sits back down. She does another lip trill and then stares at my reflection in the mirror, tilting her head to one side. “Is your mom and dad here?”
“No. My dad had to drive my stepbrother somewhere tonight, and my mom lives in Denver now.”
“Is Denver closer than Detroit? Because Summer and Lucky’s Grammie came here from Detroit to see them.”
“Yes. It’s closer than Detroit. But I actually didn’t invite her because she doesn’t like to fly.”
“Okay. Well, my family is all here. They’re all really nice, except for my cousin Sam. You should come to the party with us after.”
I guess Miles didn’t tell her that he already invited me to that. “I’d love to. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Well, I have to finish warming up my voice now,” she says, only somewhat dismissively.
“Yes. Break a leg. See you out there.”
She nods and continues her yawning and sighing warmup.
I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and somehow know that I’ve received a text from Miles. I swear, my phone vibrates more intensely when it’s him.
MILES: Is it bad luck for the director to see the star of her show before the curtain goes up on opening night?
ME: I hope not because I just saw Macy.
MILES: I meant *one of the stars*.
MILES: The one who’s sending you this spectacular arrangement of flower emojis because he knows you don’t have room for real flowers backstage. Whoops! How’d that get in there?
ME: Oh, man. Thank you for the flowers. But I really wish you could put your in my right about now.
MILES: Question. Is it cool for the Cheshire Cat to have a onstage?
ME: Sorry. I just it when you me. Break a , .
MILES: Oh, I will that until you before the night is over, little .
ME: That was supposed to be YOU! The Cheshire Cat!
MILES: Oh. Right. Anyway. Get back to work!
The only work I really have to do tonight is to wish the cast and crew well and to radiate confidence and good vibes.
Everything goes well onstage, from the opening number to Alice falling down the rabbit hole, to the Drink Me/Eat Me scene, to Alice’s scene with the Caterpillar, to the scene where she finds the Cheshire Cat leaning against a tree. That’s when I really start to pay attention.
“Oh, you’re a cat!” Alice exclaims.
“Well, fancy that,” he says with a posh English accent.
“Oh, Cheshire Puss…would you tell me, please. Which way should I go from here?”
“Well, my dear girl…that all depends.”
“On what?”
“On where you want to go.”
“I don’t much care where—”
“Well, then it doesn’t much matter which way you go, now does it?”
“As long as I get somewhere, is what I was going to say!”
“Oh, you’re definitely going to do that…if you walk long enough.”
“Tell me…what sort of people live around here, anyway?”
“Excellent question. In that direction,” he says, pointing with one index finger, “lives a Hatter.” He points in the opposite direction without taking his eyes off Alice. “In that direction lives a March Hare. Visit whichever one you’d like. They’re both stark, raving mad.”
“Oh, goodness. I have an uncle who’s mad, but I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s stark, raving mad before. I don’t think I want to be around mad people.”
“Well, I’m afraid you can’t help that, my dear…”
Cheshire Cat begins to sing and stroll around Alice in a sultry way.
We choreographed something low-key to go with the relaxed tempo of the song.
At first I wanted Miles to do a soft-shoe tap dance the way Gene Kelly would do it—if Gene Kelly weren’t an amazing professional dancer.
And Miles was like, no. So he strolls around her in a slinky way instead, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his purple trousers.
It would be hot if it weren’t so adorable that he’s singing to his daughter in a children’s musical.
“There is no denying this, we’re all mad here.
You’re about to find out for yourself, my dear.
Hope you like your conversations cuckoo
With everyone that you bump into.”
“I don’t.”
“It’s simple as a maze to go through
Here, my dear.”
“Well, you don’t seem crazy.”
“I wag my tail when I’m offended,
I growl when I am feeling splendid.”
“Enh.”
“You’re mad too or you would not be here,
Face it, dear.”
“No.”
“Hope you like your fruitcakes nutty.”
“I don’t.”
“It’s no place for a fuddy-duddy
Here, my dear.”
When the song is over, there is loud cheering from the Brodies in the audience. Miles is already smiling because he’s a grinning Cheshire Cat, but he shakes his head the tiniest bit.
Alice waits for the applause to die down before saying, “Okay, then. If you’d just tell me how to get out of here, I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, you can’t leave. You must attend the Queen’s croquet game.”
“I would love to play croquet, but I haven’t been invited.”
“You’ll see me there,” he says with a wink. And then, through the magic of theatre and modern technology, he vanishes.
The Mad Tea Party that follows is a crowd pleaser.
Macy moves on to Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, and then she arrives at the Queen’s croquet grounds to find the gardeners painting rose bushes.
I can feel Macy’s nerves from here. I send her positive thoughts and hold my breath, for potential accidental farts reasons.
“What is wrong with this Queen?!
What’s she got against heads?!
I mean who cares if a rose is white or pink or bloody red?
My dread for this woman is absolutely off the charts!
I have never wanted to not meet anyone
As much as I don’t want to meet this Queen of Hearts!”
And everyone backstage exhales.