Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
I walk to campus and head to University Hall. Janine’s waiting for me at one of the tables.
I drop into a chair across from her, and she slides a cup across the table. “Light cream, half sugar.”
“Thank you.” I wrap my hands around it but don’t drink. “And thanks for meeting me here. I wasn’t sure you’d show.”
“Figured it must be important. You haven’t called me in years.”
I nod. “I wanted to apologize for the way I’ve acted.”
“No, Reagan, you don’t need to apologize. When I found out that Lori was coming to the banquet, I should have told my parents to turn the car around. I know how crazy she’s made your life.”
“She wouldn’t have listened.”
“My mom told me she’s leaving. I’m sorry. I really thought this time was different.”
“You couldn’t have known.” I shake my head. “What I wanted to apologize for is avoiding you these past few years.”
“Oh.” Janine leans forward, and a hint of a smile spreads on her face. “Go on.”
“When we got to Valley, I was so eager to start fresh. You were a reminder of the past. You knew all the awful, embarrassing things that I wanted to forget. I felt like I couldn’t really have a new life as long as anyone around me knew about my messed up childhood.”
“I get it.” Her smile is small and sad.
“You were always great to me. I don’t know where I would be today without you or your family.”
“Something tells me you would have done okay on your own. Just like you’ve done these past three years.”
I think about Dakota, Ginny, the guys. I’ve never been on my own. Not really, but I appreciate her words.
“You deserve to be happy, Rea. It’s all I ever wanted and if being friends with me complicates that, I get it.”
“I’m stronger now. Just promise me we never have to mention Lori again.”
“Deal.”
I lean back in my chair. “So, tell me everything that’s been going on with you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything that I missed the past three years. I did think about you often, for what it’s worth.”
“You haven’t missed much. I have been so focused on school. I kind of forgot that this is the time I’m supposed to have fun.”
“You want to stop focusing on school and have fun?”
“Well, no, let’s not talk crazy. School is still my priority, but I let Sean talk me into only taking one class this summer.”
“Such a slacker,” I tease.
“How’s Adam? Is he gloating over the scholarship?”
“He’s okay. Excited, I think. We actually decided to end things.”
“Seriously?”
“Are you really that surprised?”
She shrugs. “Sure, Adam’s dated a lot of girls, but you two seemed so great together.”
“We were faking an engagement around you, so I’m not sure you saw the most authentic version of us.”
“Maybe, but I did read his speech.”
I’m quiet, and she checks my expression.
“You didn’t see it, did you?”
“No, I left before he gave it.” I hate that I wasn’t there for him. Maybe if I’d stayed, things would have gone down differently. If I believed that, it might be easier without him. We were always going to end.
“Not the speech he gave, the one he wrote.” She pulls out her phone and slides it across the table. “He sent this to me the day before. Read it.”
“I’m so nervous. I don’t think I can do this.” Mila holds a hand to her sternum and breathes deeply.
“Relax. You’re going to be great. As soon as you get out there, you’ll forget all about being nervous.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m going to be sick.” She rushes out of the dressing room and runs toward the bathroom. I follow, entering as she slams a stall door shut and heaves.
Eww.
“I’m just going to wait out here in case you need anything,” I say as she heaves again.
Our costume designer walks into the bathroom. She has Mila’s dress in one hand, standing in the doorway holding it open. “Have you seen Mila?”
“She’ll be right out.”
“She’s late. Director Hoffman wants to see everyone in two minutes.”
“We’ll be there,” I assure her.
Once the door shuts behind her, I ask Mila, “Are you okay?”
“No.” Her voice trembles.
“Come on. Let’s get you in your costume. Then you’ll feel ready.” I have no idea if that’s true, but I sure hope so.
She steps out of the stall, looking a little green.
In the dressing room, she gets into her first costume, and we touch up her makeup.
“There. You look perfect.” And it’s a good thing because I can hear Director Hoffman’s voice outside in the hallway calling for everyone to gather around.
We join the rest of the cast as he gives his usual pep talk, which includes no less than five reminders, all worded slightly differently to stay alert backstage and be ready to go when it’s our turn on stage.
We’ve never had an issue with someone sitting backstage not paying attention.
We’re all anxiously and acutely aware of every second of the show until the curtain drops, but we listen to his reminders anyway.
Mila grabs my hand and squeezes. I try to think back to my first show at Valley in front of a larger stage than I was used to in high school or community theater. I’m sure I was nervous, but all I can remember is how excited I was.
My heart aches that today I won’t be the one out there.
When he dismisses us, someone else yells that we have five minutes before the house lights drop.
“Director Hoffman,” Mila says, still holding my hand. “I don’t think I can go on.” She presses her free hand to her stomach. “I think I have food poisoning.”
“Are you sick or nervous?” he asks, with no hint of compassion in his voice or eyes.
“Both, but I’m throwing up every few minutes.” She winces like she’s about to again.
He takes a step back, and his gaze moves to me. “Looks like you’re up.”
Butterflies swarm in my belly.
“Quickly now, we don’t have a lot of time,” he grumbles.
Mila drags me into the dressing room. She takes off her dress and hands it to me. I pull it on in a daze. My hair and makeup are already done, but she smooths a few wisps back.
I meet her gaze. She’s beaming, and she looks far less green.
“You aren’t sick, are you?”
She shakes her head and speaks quietly, “This is your part. I’ll get my chance.”
“Mila, no.”
“Yes.” She grins. “It’s already done. Now go break a leg.”
When the curtain falls, I close my eyes and soak up the applause.
My heart only now starts racing as if all the adrenaline and nerves are finally hitting me.
The lights come up, and we go out in groups to take our bows.
From the wings, I can see out into the audience.
I scan, like I always do, seeing faces I don’t recognize and searching for the one that’s never there.
Sometimes I like to pretend my mom is here, and I just don’t see her, or maybe she snuck out early to keep it a secret that she came. It’s a fantasy I don’t truly believe, but I indulge in it. One last time.
When it’s my turn, I walk out to cheers and yells. I wave and then bow. The applause seems to get louder and louder, and I let it fill me up, soothing the pain. Here I make a difference to many. I’m all of their daughters, all of their friends. I’m family, if only for tonight.
The entire cast joins hands, and we take one last bow together. As I stand and we start off stage, I get one last glimpse out into the audience. I know she isn’t here, but maybe I’ll always look for her.
Mila is waiting for me backstage. She squeals and practically tackles me with a running hug. “You were amazing.”
“Thank you,” I say. “For letting me go on tonight. It was everything.”
She nods. “Welcome. Now go back out there and let your fans squeal at you.”
I accept congratulations and other encouragement from people as I walk out in front of the theater. I stop and chat, smile for pictures, and accept hugs from strangers.
“Reagan,” someone calls, and I glance up to see Dakota, Ginny, and the guys. Even Adam. Especially Adam.
“What are you doing here? I told you, you guys didn’t need to come. I wasn’t even supposed to go on.”
“Good thing we didn’t listen,” Dakota says and gives me a one-armed hug.
Adam hangs at the back of our friends. After everyone else has hugged me, he steps forward. “Congratulations. You were amazing. I am in awe of you.”
“Thank you.”
They keep fawning over me, and I absorb it all. After this past week, I will never take for granted these moments or these people.
“I should mingle and get changed,” I say after a few more minutes talking with my friends.
Everyone else offers one last congrats and hug, then Adam smiles tentatively. “Can we talk real quick?”
People are coming up, standing by to talk to me. One person taps me on the shoulder. I smile at them and then glance back to Adam. “Sorry. I need to—”
“Yeah, of course.” His brow furrows. “Of course. Congrats again.”
“Thanks for coming.” I hug Dakota again because I can’t help myself. I’m so glad that she’s so stubborn. “I’ll see you guys later.”
It feels like an hour goes by, and the theater is still packed with people, cast members who haven’t been able to escape, as well as families and friends that are lingering to talk.
My hand goes to my throat, and I apologize to the nice couple I’m talking to, citing needing a drink of water. It’s true. My throat is dry and scratchy, but I am ready to retreat back to the dressing room, change back into my normal clothes, wipe off my makeup and go home.
I’m almost to the door that leads backstage when a deep voice crackles over the speaker, “Hey, everyone. Sorry to interrupt.”