Beatless (19 page)

Distance makes us stronger

I can hold out a little longer

I’ll never let this go

No, I’ll never let you go

Reagan, appearing nervous, produced a necklace with a red plastic heart hanging from a silver chain and placed it around her neck, and then a dance number followed.

The last part of their interaction was the two of them sitting in two different classrooms, a divider between them as they wrote letters to each other, with other students all around them, oblivious to what was happening. And it ended with Mercy walking with other people past the lockers again, and the boy standing at his empty mailbox.

I glanced across the stage and saw Tucker; he was standing mimicking my position. When the lights faded, we walked forward to take our places.

He stood stage left and I lingered stage right, speaking to Cathryn who was still playing the mom. She was a sweet brunette wearing her hair in a bun, with a layer of baby powder dumped on top to make her look older for the time lapsed scene. Every time she shook her head (which was a lot) it looked like it was snowing. She had been written as a flighty character – the comic relief that was sorely needed. Every time the crowd laughed, her lips pressed together to stop from reacting. It helped to keep the smile on my face, too.

Several background players filled the stage and a drop cloth was released; a high school hallway that was painted to become narrower behind us. I approached Tucker slowly, his back to me as he talked to a group of his friends. Tapping him on the shoulder, I spoke clearly.

“You’re here.”

From there the characters fell in love. A slow burn of conversations and nights spent talking about their time apart and what they hoped for the future.

Our duet was sung by the trees, our hands linked tightly as we angled toward the audience, but still sang to one another.

Could this be what they mean

When they talk about falling

(It is)

Headfirst into something new

Something familiar

(With you)

I want to give my all

If this is what it’s like to fall

(This is falling)

What it feels like falling for you

The necklace was produced again. A lingering look between the two of us. Our hands parted and he walked away.

A large crowd of the cast swarmed the stage again, a mass of bodies pushing by, dancing around me as I stood center stage. Selena Turner, cast as Mean Girl, bumped into my shoulder and let out a rude laugh. “Nice boyfriend.” It was condescending and meant to ignite my change toward Tucker. Other students began to tease about the relationship, and my shoulders tensed while I played with the heart around my neck, sufficiently deflated. A chorus of singers taunting with hateful words that grew into an almost unbearable crescendo.

The torment from our peers continued. They pushed and sneered, shouted hateful things, until I began to slump against the wall, turning my face from all of them.

When the stage cleared, I stood in the darkness, only a spotlight drenching me in light as I began my solo. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans and leaned up on my toes.

It’s the end of the beginning

I can feel it in my chest

This heart, once beating

Has come to a painful rest

I can’t handle the fire

Can’t take the heat

My heart suddenly made of plastic

And plastic hearts don’t beat

The act ended with my character breaking things off – shallow and unfeeling – in the wake of public scrutiny. And I handed back the necklace as the lights faded and the curtain closed.

Tucker turned and slipped backstage to change into his second act suit and tie and I bolted quickly to change out of the jeans and blouse that the first act required, and slipped into the green dress.

Intermission went by too fast to run out and check to see if Sam had kept her promise. I needed to focus on the last act, anyway.

Once again positioned for entrance, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. It was the part of the musical that hurt the most, and I had to be on point to harness my emotions and give my all.

It began with the two of us in different cities – grownups with new jobs; mine an office job that overlooked the skyline, and his blue collar nine to five, where he’d go home to a tiny apartment.

There was a montage of both of us walking across the stage over and over again, our arms linked with a new person, the chorus of voices singing around us that time changes everything and there’s no such thing as second chances.

Eventually we both found ourselves alone in our homes. After I pulled out a stack of letters from him, I decided to go to a local bar, pretending to drink a beer, which was really just water made yellow with food coloring. Tucker stood in the far corner of the same bar, and once my character noticed him, I approached, saying out loud that I hoped he was real and not just some figment of my imagination.

We stepped out of the bar and into the faux moonlight beyond the front doors of the building. I stepped slowly downstage, wringing my hands anxiously as I waited for him to speak. He delivered the line we’d practiced in my room, crossed to center stage and dipped his face to mine. His hands stayed where they should, open against my cheeks for the audience to see the kiss as I reached up on my toes and met his lips. I didn’t moan, but sighed against his mouth and relished the moment. When he pulled back to look me in the eyes, I searched them for true feelings, but he was guarded, protected in his character’s skin.

We began to dance and I held on tightly, letting all the emotion that I felt in that moment show on my face. It was perfect. We were flawless.

I promised him my heart and he accepted, before we transitioned into our duet. Sara began to play and he stepped forward downstage to gaze out at the audience.

With your eyes closing

Is it me you’re looking for?

Is it me you see in darkness

While you’re lying on the floor?

When your eyes are closed

Do you wish for something more?

That instead of empty silence

I’d be knocking at your door?

I’d break down your walls

(Break all of them down)

Burn every bridge once again

(Light a fire on the ground)

And from the ashes

(From the ash and the dust)

Is where we’d begin again

(Let’s begin this again)

But only if you’d ask me to

(Don’t you know that I’m asking you?)

And so the story ended with the two of pressed tightly together in the middle of the stage with the rest of the cast surrounding us, singing a song of redemption and hope that second chances do exist.

When the curtain fell, Tucker smiled, but it wasn’t the kind that lit up his whole face. It was one that I didn’t recognize and it made my mind race with the implication of it. We’d done so well. There was no need for him to look like that.

There was only a limited amount of time before the curtain call and I moved to the side of the stage to watch our cast, two by two, walk downstage to bow in front of the standing ovation of the audience, their applause filling the theater.

It made my heart swell. “We did it,” I whispered to no one but myself.

Tucker walked mid-stage and held out his hand, calling me forward until we were palm to palm. When we reached the edge of the stage, he bowed and I curtsied, relishing in the explosion of cat calls and clapping for the two of us. I wished, for a fleeting moment, that I could do what I intended to do right then. But it wasn’t time. I had something else to tackle first.

Backstage, everyone was filled with happiness, and congratulations were followed by accolades. Bodies filed out into the foyer where audience members, family, friends, and classmates were assembled to hug and praise the others.

My name still sat on a post-it above an empty space on the floor and I took a second to compose myself. I’d snuck past everyone chattering excitedly in the dressing room to grab a small wrapped box, purple instead of pink, with a yellow ribbon since it seemed fitting. Peeking around the door to the foyer, I scanned the crowd for the top of Tucker’s head. As I expected, he was in the middle of what looked like twenty people. There was a gap to his side and I zoned in there, making my way through everyone.

My arm was grabbed on more than one occasion as I tried to work my way over to where he was standing. Familiar and unfamiliar faces smiled widely and told me what an incredible job I’d done. That my voice was wonderful. That the characters were so real. And I wanted, more than anything, to tell them that they were real.

When I’d accepted the compliments, staving off the embarrassment from the attention, I finally made it to where Tucker stood, his fingers worrying all of the places they usually did as he smiled wide and nodded at what the circle of people around him were saying.

I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, his eyes going wide and then shifting to the little girl at his side. She was leaning against an older man that I figured was Mr. Scott. I extended my hand.

“You must be Tucker’s dad.”

He smiled, broad and fully, just like his son.

I bent a little at the waist and met Eliza’s icy stare. “We haven’t met properly. I’m Mallory. And I’m a complete jerk.”

Her mouth opened in surprise and she shifted on her braces, looking up at her brother for a cue. He just stared in shock.

“Well, at least you know,” she finally responded. Her dad started to say something, probably a reprimand for her words, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“Yep. Trust me, I am aware. But I promise I’m working on it. So – I figured you’d be here today to support your brother. And it got me to thinking about something that happened a few years ago. See, your brother stole some of your bracelet pieces from a kit you used to have. I don’t know if you still like that kind of stuff, but I thought if you did, maybe I could right his thieving ways by replacing what was taken.” I presented her with the gift in my hands, a completely new jewelry kit. I bent my knees a little to meet her at eye level. “I hope you’ll take it as an apology. Or at least the start of one.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes again. “I guess that depends on how good of a present it is.”

I laughed and stood up. “Maybe you’ll tell me someday.” I said goodbye to her and Mr. Scott and with as much confidence as I could muster, I lost myself in the crowd without turning back to see Tucker’s reaction.

~*~18~*~

When I’d returned home, the house was dark and silent, eerily so. Sam’s door was closed and I paused, my palm to the wood as I contemplated knocking - or just entering without invitation. I wanted so badly to see her. To talk to her about what I’d just experienced and accomplished. How I could feel the change inside me, and how she’d been the person to push me toward it. I wanted her to be proud of me.

But I didn’t knock or open the door. I left her alone because she clearly needed the time and rest. I hoped that one day she would be able to move beyond whatever was pulling her down into the blackness she’d succumbed to recently.

I slept fitfully that night, aware that it was mostly a high from the performance, but also because I was about to do something I never in a million years would have had the courage to do before.

I slept late and when I finally got up, the sun was halfway in the sky, the warm beams of light hitting my face through my blinds. There was so much on my mind that I immediately jumped into action, taking a shower, gathering all my things for that night’s show. I grabbed a quick bowl of cereal, noted that Sam was shuffling around upstairs, which made me feel a little better about her little disappearing act, and left the house without a second thought.

She sent me a text right as I was pulling into the parking lot and all it said was, “I’m sorry.” I didn’t respond back. There would be time for us to talk about whatever it was that she was going through after I got home that night, and my focus was on something much bigger than my aunt flaking out on opening night.

The day flew by as I talked myself through what was going to happen. The flutter of anticipation around my heart felt like tiny hummingbirds in flight throughout my sternum. Hope ran through my veins, replacing my blood with a rush of optimism.

It had to work.

Back at the theater, I met for a brief moment with Sara before repeating the entire process of getting dressed and made up for the performance. I purposely stayed away from Tucker. I told myself that it was because of the interaction with his sister. But I knew it was more than that. He’d been so disconnected on opening night that he felt like a ghost in the background of the amazing thing we’d accomplished. He should have been proud and excited, but instead he was guarded and removed. It made my insides hurt to think that he couldn’t enjoy it - because of my involvement. Had he spoken up and chosen to pick another lead, maybe we wouldn’t have been in this predicament at all.

Landon would never have asked me out.

Tucker would never have gone to that party.

There never would have been a wreck to change everything.

Tucker could have just done his part, directed the music, and gone about his life.

I could have painted sets and quietly disappeared behind the heavy velvet curtains.

But all of those decisions had brought us to this point. Facing one another, while sadistically repeating our heartbreak and bad decisions. I’d finally rehearsed the play so much that when it had come time to be onstage on Friday night, there was no longer pain associated with the words or the songs. There was no reason to be sad anymore. There was no sting to the script. There was only the two of us getting everything out of our systems in the form of lyrics and poetic words.