Chapter 24 Aria #2
I keep watching the monitor to make sure the procession enters without anyone tripping over anyone else’s feet or costumes.
Lucky Miller enters as the White Rabbit, scurrying around, out of breath. “I made it! I’m here. I’m not even late and I’m here.”
Summer Miller, as the Queen of Hearts, yells at him. “Step aside, rodent!”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Technically not a rodent, but—”
“Off with your head!”
I remember being in a really bad mood when I wrote this part, and I love it.
Austin, as the King of Hearts, rolls his eyes dramatically and says, “Let’s hold off on the beheadings until you’re a little less hangry, shall we, dear heart?”
The Queen ignores her husband, continues stomping around, and points to an ensemble member in a playing card costume.
“Why is this one looking at me? Off with his head! And this one—I don’t like his feet.
Off with his head!” She stops in front of Alice and rests her fists on her hips. “What’s your name, child?”
Alice curtsies and says, “My name is Alice, if it pleases Your Majesty. But it seems nothing pleases you, so you may call me whatever you want.”
The Queen looks livid. “Such impertinence. OFF. WITH. HER. HEAD!!!”
“Or, alternatively,” says the King, “if I could play devil’s advocate for a minute here—how about we don’t go around executing children? Something to consider. Can someone get my wife a tart, or a muffin perhaps? Anyone?”
The croquet game begins with a song by the ensemble, and this is when the Cheshire Cat appears again, seen only by Alice. “We meet again, my dear. How are you getting on?”
“Dreadfully. You were right. Everyone here is mad, and I want to go home.”
There’s nothing else I have to worry about for the rest of the act.
I can see from the security camera feed that the Brodies are genuinely enjoying the show, so I join Chloe at her monitor and we have a ten-second silent dance party to celebrate.
Then I send Miles a text, in the hopes that he’ll find it after the curtain call and before chaos descends upon us backstage.
ME: Hey. You were both wonderful. I’ll be waiting for you at our special place.
A minute before the end of the performance, I apply flavored Chapstick and go wait for him behind an old set piece in the deep recesses of backstage.
It’s a terrible painted fake bookshelf, but we discovered after the first dress rehearsal that the back of it is the perfect height and width for us to engage in discreet canoodling when we can’t wait until we get home to hastily kiss and fondle each other.
There is no way to await my secret lover in a sexy stance back here, so I just sit cross-legged on the floor and check my phone.
CHLOE: And we’re out! Standing ovation. Three curtain calls. You really should have been out there to take a bow.
CHLOE: P.S. We’re doing shots in the booth if you’re interested. Don’t tell my kids.
I don’t get a text from Miles, but I do hear sexy man-size footsteps approaching. I’m standing up again when he appears. He’s still wearing his purple trousers, but he’s changed into a T-shirt on top so I don’t get any makeup on his costume. Such a pro.
We greet each other with kisses instead of words.
He tells me with his tongue that he wishes he could rip my clothes off, if only there weren’t dozens of theatre people around on the other side of this wooden scenery.
His hands convey a defiant urge to squeeze my ass, despite the aforementioned adjacent cast and crew.
I respond with a reassuring swipe of my hands under his T-shirt, letting him know that his abs and other lower body regions will be carefully tended to within a matter of hours.
I have no idea why we don’t hear anyone else nearby.
I certainly don’t know why two people decided to rearrange things backstage now of all times.
But one of the stagehands suggests moving the bookshelf over so something else can fit here, and before I know it, the set piece we’re hiding behind is being rolled away.
Miles and I are mid-kiss when we’re revealed. It’s like a moment from an old movie musical. There’s no spotlight on us, but it feels like there is.
Fortunately, most of the crew is still up in the control booth doing shots and most of the cast is in the dressing rooms changing. But for some reason, Macy Brodie is standing thirty feet away. She was probably looking for her dad.
Welp.
She found him.
Miles and I let go of each other and watch her for a reaction.
She just stares at us, blinking. I don’t see a hint of surprise or confusion. She’s such a focused and determined little girl, I’m sure her only goal was finding her dad, and now that she has, it’s difficult for her to process anything else.
“Hey, honey,” Miles says.
“Gramma and Grampa are waiting for us outside, so you have to finish changing out of your costume.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there.”
She looks at me and says, “Okay, hurry up.” And then she walks back in the direction of the dressing room.
I could not for the life of me get a read on her emotional response. I look over at Miles. He’s still watching her walk away.
I don’t want to apologize for kissing him here.
I’m not sorry that we kissed. I’m not sorry that Macy knows about us.
I just wish she could have found out after the show’s run is over in two weeks, in whatever way Miles was planning to tell her.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go to the party” is all I can think to say.
“No, you need to come. Meet us there. I’ll talk to her.”
The stagehand apologizes and moves the set piece back where it was, concealing us once again.
“A little late for that, buddy,” Miles grumbles.
Grumpy Miles has returned. I wish he’d find a way to silently assure me that things are going to be okay again. With his tongue or his hands or his eyes. But he leaves me to go talk to Macy, and he doesn’t look back.
That’s how it is with this guy. That’s how it’s always been.
It’s one of the things I liked about him, even before I liked him—that he’ll do anything for his daughter.
It just hurts a little bit because I know he’ll always care more about her than he will about me.
Everyone I’ve ever cared about is always going to care more about someone or something else than they do about me, it seems. Their new kids, new husband, their career.
Maybe I’m extra sad because I don’t have any family of my own here tonight, but it feels like the Miles I’ve gotten to know and love in the past month and a half is slipping away all of a sudden.
As I watch him walk away, I’m introduced to an unfamiliar feeling.
I think it might be dread. I think it’s because… now I know.
I know what it is that will come between us.