He didn't sound as sad as I felt he should've, or maybe that was my disappointment talking. My throat formed a giant lump, and tears began to spill down my cheeks. I took a deep breath, remembering that I chose to join the tour, and being mad at Cole for being a supportive boyfriend was irrational, but I was still angry at him.
He told me he loved me and that he missed me. I parroted his words in what I hoped was a cheerful tone. He joked that I shouldn't break any actual legs at my show, and I couldn't bring myself to laugh. He asked me if something was wrong, and I lied. I ended our phone call by telling him the same story I told my mother about not wanting to be late for rehearsal and hung up. Only after I slammed the phone down on my nightstand did I realize that I hadn't talked to CJ.
Thirty minutes later, I stepped out of my shower to find Michelle sitting on my bed, facing the bathroom door.
“Is something wrong?” I asked as I pulled my hair out of the t-shirt I’d wrapped it in.
“You tell me?” She’d crossed her arms over her chest and crossed one leg over the other.
"I'm fine." I walked over to the closet, pulled out my suitcase, and began digging for something clean to wear to rehearsal.
“Is that why you were crying in the shower?”
I didn't know she could hear me. I felt like a raw wound: open, bleeding, and sensitive. "It's Christmas, and I miss my family," I mumbled, continuing to avoid eye contact with her.
"Then, it's been Christmas for two weeks." She stood and crossed to her side of the room. I looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows, daring me to contradict her. "It's none of my business, but if you're going through something, you can talk about it. It's obvious you're going through something." She shrugged into her jacket and slung a tote bag over her shoulder and walked to the door.
"I'm fine," I called to her retreating figure, making her the third person I'd lied to in as many hours.
She shot me ayeah, rightexpression before walking through the door and closing it softly behind her.
Rehearsals went betterthan they should have given my state of mind, and the show was perfect. For two and a half hours, I was someone else. I was Sonia.
Sonia didn’t have PCOS.
Sonia wasn't hundreds of miles away from everyone she loved on Christmas Day.
Sonia wasn’t angry at her boyfriend for something that wasn’t his fault.
Sonia wasn’t bone-achingly exhausted and hungry all the time.
When the curtain closed,my body was buzzing with all the performance-high adrenaline, and I changed as quickly as I could and rushed to the stage door to greet showgoers and sign playbills before it wore off and lonely, grumpy Lisa returned.
With a deep breath and plastered-on smile, I walked through the door onto the sidewalk to be greeted by a crowd that was larger than usual. I smiled, signed playbills, and thanked them for coming. A large bouquet of flowers caught my eye. It struck me as odd because it was covering the upper body and face of whoever was carrying it. I ventured closer and the bouquet lowered, revealing Sasha and Micaela.
A loud squealing sound filled the alley of the theater, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was coming from me. I ran toward them, to hug them, and forgot about the red velvet rope separating us. I stumbled forward, causing the stanchions to topple over.
When I managed to get to them, we squeezed each other in a three-way hug, screaming and laughing. My tears had made a return appearance, but they were happy tears.
“That was funny as hell,” Micaela said. “You should do that in the show.”
The three of us burst out laughing again when I felt a tug on my coat. I turned around to see a little girl with deep brown skin, large brown eyes, and an excited smile holding out her playbill for me to sign. I smiled at her before turning to Sasha and Micaela, giving them anI’m so sorrylook.
“Girl, do what you gotta do. We’re not going anywhere,” Sasha said, wrapping her arms around Micaela’s waist.
I spent the next few minutes signing and greeting the last of the theatergoers, glancing every few seconds at Sasha and Micaela, making sure they hadn't disappeared in a puff of smoke while I looked away.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as we were standing huddled on the sidewalk.
“We hitched a ride with your boyfriend.” Sasha grinned. My eyes widened with shock.
“Cole? Cole is here?”
“Do you have another boyfriend?” She dropped her chin and raised her eyebrows.
“I talked to Cole this morning. He said he was in Harlem opening Christmas presents.”
“He probably was,” Micaela said. “You know it’s only an hour flight from New York to here.”
