Alex Ko (27 page)

Authors: Alex Ko

BOOK: Alex Ko

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“That sounds great.”

But first Mom flew me back to Iowa to have Dr. Mysnyk look at my knee. Michael Kohli was kind enough to look after me while I was there, so Mom didn’t have to take time off from work. I got new X-rays, a second MRI, the whole nine yards. In his office, Dr. Mysnyk showed me my file.

“Are you injured?” he said. “Yes.”

My heart shrank to about half its size.

“So I can’t do my last show?” My voice cracked. This was my last chance, and I’d failed.

Dr. Mysnyk ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

“No,” he said. “That’s not what I’m saying. Are you injured? Yes. Do I think you should perform anyway? Yes.”

“What?” I shot up in surprise.

“You deserve this, Alex. I’m not taking your last show away from you.”

He turned to Michael.

“He isn’t fully healed, but he should be fine,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Michael sounded worried. She knew how much this meant to me, but my health came first.

“If he were my child, I would let him go on. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and the chance of any injury is very low. I’m going to give you a topical gel that will help with the pain and the swelling. And after this, you take a break, you hear?”

“Yes, sir!” I said. “Absolutely. That’s the plan.”

He quickly wrote a prescription on the pad by the desk and tore it off with a flourish.

“Ta-da,” he said. “A star is born.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mysnyk!” I couldn’t stop myself. I leaped out of the chair and ran around to hug him.

“Knock ’em dead,” he said.

After that, it was just a matter of waiting. There were only five days left until my final performance. I invited everyone—my family, the friends I’d made in New York, all my mentors and dance teachers throughout the years. Stephen told me he was coming, and so did Kenny Ortega. Mom, Matt, and John would be in the front row. Aunt Pat was flying in, as was Michael Kohli. And Dad would have the best seat in the house.

“So it’s almost done,” I said to Dad in my prayers the night before my last performance. “I’m almost out of the show. It feels weird to imagine life in New York without it. Isn’t that strange, Dad? We live in New York now. I’m a New Yorker. I don’t think I’ll ever move back to Iowa. I wonder what you’d think of me now.”

But I didn’t really wonder. I knew. He was proud of me, as proud as he could ever possibly be. When I closed my eyes, I could feel him in the room with me. I could hear his laugh, smell his cooking, feel the sandpaper scruff of his face against mine when we hugged. For just a moment I let myself pretend he was actually with me. I kept my eyes closed tight as I got into bed.

“Good night, Dad. I love you,” I whispered to the empty room, which didn’t feel empty anymore. Dad was there, in my heart, where he would always be.

Mom took me to the theater that night. When we arrived, she took one look at the big poster of me and started to cry.

“Oh, Alex,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so, so proud of you, honey.”

“Mom.” I pretended to protest. “I’ve got a show to do.”

She laughed.

“Always the professional,” she said. “That’s my little boy. Oh! You’re not so little now, I guess. Get backstage before I start crying again.”

She let me go, but I held on to her hand. Every step of the way, from Iowa to Broadway, Mom had been at my side. She brought me to my first dance class and every gymnastics competition. She stood up for me, fought for me, sacrificed for me. Everything I had done in my life was because of her.

I pulled her hand, bringing her back to me for one more hug.

“I love you, Mom,” I whispered.

“I love you too, Alex,” she said into my hair. I could hear the excitement in her voice. I squeezed her hard one last time and then ran into the theater, knowing that tonight—like every night—she’d be watching out for me.

The first person to notice me backstage was Kate Dunn. She’d had her baby while I was injured and was back now. As I walked in, she started clapping slowly. Jess, my dresser, joined her. Somehow Stephen was there too, and Joan Lader, and David Chase, and they were all clapping. Soon the whole company was applauding for me, from the ballet girls to the stagehands. We’d put on a show like no other. The men and women in that room had made me a professional and taught me what it meant to be on Broadway. If anyone should have been applauding, it was me. I felt so humbled by the love and support they had shown me.

“How do you feel?” Stephen asked, after the applause died down. I thought about it for a second. How did I feel about tonight? About leaving the show? About everything that came next? I was going to ask what he meant, when I realized that the answer was the same regardless.

“Ready,” I said. “I’m ready.”

“Good answer.” He laughed, and clapped me on the shoulder. “So when do we get to read all about this?”

I’d told Stephen about the book idea, and he was as excited as I was. Billys had gone on to do lots of things, he’d said, but none had written a book about being in the show yet.

“I start tomorrow,” I told him. He shook his head with pride.

“Nothing slows you down, does it?” he said admiringly. “Now get out there and show them what you’ve got!”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. Still, I took my time in warm-ups, stretching my knee and making sure I was ready. Truthfully, I wasn’t worried, I just wanted to relish the last few moments.
Billy Elliot
had been my first job, my first big role, my first show on Broadway.
Billy Elliot
brought me to New York and sent me to the White House. I’d met celebrities and politicians—and most important, friends I’d have for the rest of my life.

When the call for places came, I started to tear up. Thankfully, Jess appeared at my side.

“Here,” she said, handing me a small pack of Kleenex. “I thought you might need these.”

“How do you always know?” I laughed despite my tears.

“That’s my job.” Jess smiled. “Now it’s time for yours. You’re great, Alex. Blow them away. We’re all rooting for you.”

I hugged her and hurried to my mark. The orchestra started and the audience quieted. One by one, members of the ensemble walked past me, just as they had on my first night in the show. Only this time, each of them said good-bye as he walked past, or reached out a hand to shake mine. Soon they were all onstage and I was alone in the dark.

In just a few seconds, it would all start again. My father would grab my hand and drag me out on that stage for the final time. I’d say the words and dance the steps, just like always. It would fly by like lightning and I would remember every second of it in slow motion for the rest of my life.

But tonight would be different.

When I first started the show, I played Billy as a kid: young, innocent, excited. Like he is in the beginning. After my injury, I was more like Billy later in the play: older, experienced, more determined than ever. But tonight I would be neither of those boys.

Instead, I’d play the role a new way: as Billy from the last moment of the show. Billy about to embark on something new, suitcase in hand, staring off into the future, excited and uncertain. Billy on the verge of being a young man.

Tomorrow I’d meet with Charlotte, and a whole new phase of my life would begin. I had no way of knowing what was coming. But I’d learned that we never do, and our uncertainty does nothing to slow life down. It just keeps coming, beautiful and awful and everything, and we make the most of it, because it is a gift from God.
The
gift from God.

In the dark, waiting in the wings, I stood on the threshold between today and tomorrow, between my past and my future. As I waited, I could feel the excitement growing inside me. It was coming. It was coming.

A hand grabbed mine. I closed my eyes.

It was here.

ALEX KO’S
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