Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“The position is good,” I called from the middle of the seats, “but you need to turn toward me more. This is a big scene and we need the audience to see the emotion on your face.”
“I’m supposed to face Aiden, though. Should he move over then?” Emma asked.
“Yes, Aiden, you can move over a bit.” My lead shifted to his right. “Not that far. We don’t want your back to the audience.”
He corrected and I yelled, “That’s perfect.”
The last dress rehearsal before opening night was by far the most stressful night of my life. Once the audience filled the auditorium and the actual performance began, I would settle down. At that point, whatever happened happened. Sometimes the show went off without a hitch. Other times a shoe flew off and landed in a bucket during a serious scene. Either way, the play was alive and you dealt with the outcome.
But right now, we had one last chance to focus on the details so there would be no regrets come show night.
“Leo ripped his pants,” Maddy said, rushing toward me. “They’re completely ruined.”
Nearly all the cast were wearing their own clothes, but Leo was playing a police officer, which required an actual costume.
“Can’t you sew them back up?”
“It’s not on the seam,” she said through ground teeth. “The rip is down the center of his left butt cheek.”
“How did he…” I knew better than to finish that question. “Do we have any other brown pants in the wardrobe closet?”
My budding designer nearly snarled. “Don’t you think I looked already? There’s nothing.”
Time for an intervention. “Take a breath, Maddy. We have twenty four hours to find Leo another pair of pants. I’m sure we can do that. He didn’t rip them on purpose, after all.”
This would have been a good time to have Trey around. He likely knew more about finding men’s polyester pants in a pinch than I did. Though he’d shown up as promised on Monday evening to help with the backdrop, which turned out to be a three day nightmare that luckily he took the lead on, I hadn’t seen him at all today.
The night before we went live in front of an audience and Trey Collins was nowhere to be found. He’d at least had the courtesy to tape a note to my classroom door letting me know he couldn’t make it. When he’d done so was a mystery since I’d been in my room most of the day and hadn’t laid eyes on him once.
He didn’t text over the weekend, and our brief encounters this week had been cool at best, so I had to assume he did overhear my conversation with Georgie on Friday morning. Either that or he’d interpreted our talk in the parking lot as a full stop to anything beyond a working relationship.
Technically, I was getting what I wanted. An end to the stress and anxiety of a pending romance that was bound to fail. Rip the bandage. Nip the situationship in the bud. Bail before the curtain fell.
But I still wanted to talk to him. I missed the man, which was the toughest pill to swallow. The me of three months ago would be very disappointed at this development. And to be honest, present me wasn’t too happy about it either.
An hour later, I could tell that nerves were getting to everyone, which meant it was time to go home. They were as prepared as they could be, and the last thing I needed was my entire cast second-guessing the whole production. Time to let go and let the drama gods take it from here.
“Ms. P.,” Aiden said as I was packing up to leave, “can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, but if this is about tomorrow you’re going to be great.” I couldn’t have asked for a better male lead. His chemistry with Emma was palpable, but he also conveyed teenage angst without overdoing it.
“It’s not, actually.”
“Aiden, are you coming?” Emma called from the edge of the stage.
“I’ll catch up,” he said. “Go on without me.” Turning my way, Aiden slammed his hands into his pockets. “The cast is meeting at Delta’s for shakes.”
As Emma walked off, I dropped my half-packed bag to a seat and lowered into the one beside it. I’d come to like this young man very much, but he wasn’t exactly an open book. We’d spent hours talking about the play, and I knew virtually nothing else about him other than that he played football.
“Have a seat,” I said. “What’s going on?”
He remained standing. “You know how we all got tickets for our parents to see the show tomorrow?”
“I do. Do you need more? I’m sure we can arrange that.”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s not that.” Eyes on his fidgeting hands, he said, “I haven’t told my parents that I’m in the play.”
Wait, what? “Where do they think you go every day after school?”
Aiden shrugged. “They work a lot, so no one really knows when I’m there and when I’m not.”
Sadly, I’d had many students over the years with the same circumstances.
“Why haven’t you told them?” I asked.
He continued to avoid eye contact. “Dad has ideas about things. I don’t think he’d be real supportive of me doing this.” Finally looking up, he shook his head. “He’d have made me drop out if I’d told him.”
A conversation with Trey played back in my head. Something about Aiden not always being heard. Now it made sense.
“I can talk to him, if you want. Maybe if he comes he’ll understand.”
The boy shook his head. “That isn’t a good idea. I don’t know how he’d react and you don’t need to be in the line of fire like that.”
A choice of words that said volumes. “What about your mom?”
Aiden lowered into a seat. “She might come. If I tell her.”
That was a big if. “You aren’t required to use the tickets, and no one will think less of you if they aren’t here. There’s no pressure to tell them if you don’t want to.”
My heart broke for him and the countless kids who never knew unconditional love.
He nodded. “I know, but there’s something else.” I stayed silent, waiting for him to go on. “I like this acting stuff, and I thought maybe I could do some more of it.”
“Aiden, I’ll put you in any play you want to be in. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Like, in college,” he said, taking me by surprise. “People do that, right?”
Not sure what his grades were like, I had to tread lightly. The last thing I wanted to do was get his hopes up or mislead him.
“They do, yes. Have you been looking at schools?”
“Emma says the one here in town is pretty good.”
Carnegie Mellon had several Tony-winning alum, so yes. Pretty good. But the school had a less than twelve percent acceptance rate across all majors not just the drama department.
“That one’s a little hard to get into.”
“I heard that, too.”
The boy fell silent and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. In what direction, I couldn’t tell.
“If you want a letter of recommendation, I’m happy to provide one. No matter where you apply, a letter will help your chances of getting accepted.”
Cracking his knuckles, he met my gaze. “Would I be wasting my time?”
“That depends on multiple factors. Your grades, the application requirements?—”
“I mean am I good enough?” he interrupted. “I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”
Fighting the urge to wrap him in a motherly hug, I moved down to the seat beside him and placed my hand over his.
“Aiden, there are no guarantees when someone pursues a life in the arts. Even with the best school and training behind you, acting is as much about luck as it is about craft. But you have a gift, and I wholeheartedly believe that if this is something you want to do, then you should go for it. I’d even say it’s a waste of a God-given talent if you don’t.”
His lips curled into a smile that transformed his face. Aiden was already an attractive kid, but that smile was something else entirely.
“You need to smile like that more often,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “What are your parents going to say when you tell them about going into acting?”
He shook his head, sending a dark lock falling over his eyes. “Oh, they don’t need to know. My grandma on my mom’s side—my birth mother, that is. My current mom is Wanda. She didn’t marry Dad until I was ten, about a year after Mom died. Anyway, Grammy left me enough money to take care of college so long as I don’t go crazy, and if I get a job along the way.”
I struggled to process the amount of information he’d casually tossed into those few sentences. “You have a college fund?”
“It’s technically an inheritance I get when I turn eighteen, which happens in April. I can do whatever I want with it, but I’m definitely using it for college.”
Not counting the wanting to pursue acting part, this might have been the most responsible thing any student had ever said to me. “That’s wonderful, Aiden. I’m really happy for you.”
“So I should do it?” he repeated, head held higher than before.
“It’s a big decision and I certainly shouldn’t be the deciding factor, but strictly from a talent perspective, I say yes, you definitely should.” When he stood up, I added, “But do the research and make sure this is what you want. If you get a year in and realize acting isn’t for you, don’t be afraid to pivot, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll remember that.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Aiden looked to be fighting a grin. “Thanks for talking to me. I really appreciate it.”
Still a little stunned, I said, “Of course. Anytime.”
As he lumbered away, one thought ran through my brain. That young man was going to be somebody. Whether that was on a stage or off, he was a good man in the making, and from what little he shared, that was a miracle on its own.
Maybe he’d remember me in an acceptance speech someday, or maybe he’d forget me entirely. Either way, I would remember Aiden Bishop for a very long time.
“This seems calmer than usual,” Josie said as she dodged a sprinting teen carrying a stack of red Solo cups. “Not doing a musical was a good idea.”
Standing in the wings of Carnegie High’s Lanman Auditorium as family, friends, and students filled the seats, calm was not the word that came to mind. Panic, stress, and anxiety were better descriptors. At least of what was going on in my head.
Rationally, I knew we were ready, but being rational on opening night was near impossible.
“You’re all set,” said Miles, stepping up beside Josie. “I put WD-40 on the hinges and shaved down the edge where the two sides meet. You shouldn’t have any problem now.”
The man was a life saver. A last minute test of the backdrop revealed an issue with the transition from one side to the other. The thing worked all week long, but something happened when it got moved to its final position.
“Thank you so much. Trey was handling that, but I don’t know where he is.”
“On his way,” Miles said. “He’s the one who asked me to have a look.”
What? How?
“If he isn’t here, how did he know there was an issue?”
Miles shrugged. “Someone named Leo called him. You’re all good now.” To Josie, he said, “I’m going to go sit down. You coming?”
She turned to me. “Do you need me to stay back here? I’m happy to help out.”
Unnecessary, but I appreciated the offer. “You can go. Are the others here yet?”
“Donna and Calvin are holding the seats so I know they’re out there.” She leaned around the side curtain to check the audience. “I see Megan and Ryan, but no Becca and Jacob yet.”
Being late was now their norm. None of us blinked an eye about it at this point.
“They’ll be here before show time, I’m sure.”
The girls never missed an opening night, but this was a first for all the guys. They likely would have preferred to be anywhere else, but I appreciated the sacrifice to show their support.
If only I had that kind of support from my supposed co-coordinator.
“How are we doing?” Trey said, charging in as if I’d conjured him into being. After a quick kiss on the side of my head, he surveyed the audience around the curtain. “Looks like a good-sized crowd.”
I was too stunned to reply.
“Backdrop is all good,” Miles said, as he and Trey exchanged a fist bump. “Just needed a little lube and a shave.”
Josie jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “Don’t say it that way.”
“What?” His attempts to play dumb fooled no one. “Anyway, we’re heading to our seats. Did you get it all taken care of?” Miles asked Trey.
“Finally, yeah,” he replied. “Thanks for the assist. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, buddy.”
As Josie and Miles walked off, I said, “What did you have to take care of?”
Meeting my eye for half a second, he flashed a suspicious smile. “Nothing important. How are you doing?”
Did he mean right that second or in life? Neither were great at the moment.
“Am I missing something?” I asked. “Why are you acting like everything is fine?”
Brows gathered, he did the head tilt thing. “What do you mean?”
Too stressed and exhausted for mind games, I said, “Didn’t we call this thing between us off?”
“I…” he started, hands on his hips. “Not that I’m aware of, no.”
“But—”
“Two minutes until show time,” Madison called. “I’m about to make the announcements.”
Before I could say anything else, Trey cupped my cheeks in his callused hands and kissed me right on the mouth. When he pulled back, all I could do was blink.
“We’re all good, I promise. You trust me, right?”
Trust him with what?
Madison’s voice echoed through the auditorium asking the audience to take their seats and silence their cell phones, while Trey hustled off to take his spot near the backdrop. In a haze, I watched him give instructions to three football players before they all disappeared out of sight.
Adrenaline took over as the cast settled into place and the curtain opened on what looked like a teenage house party. Emma, in the part of Darcy, reminded her friends that she didn’t want to be there, then she took a seat on the couch center stage before Aiden, in the part of Connor, plopped down next to her, leg outstretched in a cumbersome black knee brace.
The pair radiated chemistry and embodied their roles. The innocence and optimism of youth weighed down by the angst that comes with teetering on the verge of adulthood. Tension easing out of my body, I took my seat in the wings, ready to feed a line if necessary, but mostly to enjoy watching the kids deliver a performance worthy of any stage.
By the end of the opening scene, they had the audience’s full attention. The play rolled from the innocence of two teens discovering each other, to best friends facing the consequences of a bad decision. The character of Darcy being bullied, then Connor putting himself in the line of fire to protect her, and progressing into both of them facing uncertain futures.
Every emotion was left on the stage.
In the end, Darcy stood up to her parents and Connor accepted the reality that he would never play sports again. Not an ending neatly tied up in a bow, but one that showed the imperfection and uncertainty of adolescence delivered on a sad but hopeful note.
When the lights came up, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, including mine. The thought of giving this up opened a hole in my chest, and I knew I had to fight for these kids. For this club. Maybe a miracle would happen and I wouldn’t have to fight at all.
Wishful thinking, I knew, but even my cynical heart believed in miracles. After all, I’d just witnessed a pretty profound one. This ragtag group, assembled out of nowhere two months ago, put on the show of their lives.
I could not have been prouder.