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Toby rolls his eyes. “Yeah, funny. Except … I’m shaking here.”
He completely just glossed over the fact that I said I love him. Indirectly. Sort of. Squeezed right into there in between a bunch of other words. I hadn’t said the words back to him, not after that magical night last weekend when he said them to me.
I shrug it off just as flippantly as he did and take hold of his trembling hands. “Toby, remember what you said that one night in your shed, weeks ago? When we actually did rehearse? Between all of that wild kissing we couldn’t stop doing?”
“Uh … no?”
“You said there would be a time in your life, an important and defining time, when you’d face a challenge that looked impossible. A great, big wall you couldn’t climb. And you said: This script is my wall. Danny is my wall. I will climb over him, and I will win. Remember that? Then I kissed you? And we did the scene again, and you felt like you truly embodied the spirit of Danny for the first time?”
Toby looks absolutely lost. “I said all of that?”
I might be making all of this up. But Toby is too freaked out to know, and the point is to pep him up and conquer his stage fright. “Yep. Every word. And now here you are, ready to show everyone the spirit of Danny. Who is Danny?” I ask him. His blank eyes meet mine. “He is a clever, smart, and daring person who takes on any challenge,” I answer for him. “He’s incredible. He’s sexy. He’s sure of himself.” I jab Toby in the chest with a finger. “He’s you.”
“Ouch,” whines Toby, rubbing his chest.
I take hold of his shoulders and bring my eyes right to his. “And despite every cell in my body wanting to, I’m not gonna give you a good luck kiss right now before the show. Y’know why?”
“Because you’re supposed to say ‘break a leg’ …?” croaks Toby.
“Because Danny is gonna kiss me in scene four. Not you.”
At first, Toby appears to be rapidly playing catch-up with my logic. Then at once, it seems to snap into place. “So the kiss is like the carrot you’re dangling. Your lips are a carrot now.”
Sure, yeah, whatever works. “Yep. Big ol’ lip-shaped carrot.”
Toby blinks. “That’s … both cruel and incredibly helpful.”
“You’re welcome.”
And with that, Tamika pokes her head in, and in a strained voice I suspect is supposed to be cheery, but instead sounds one loose thread away from falling apart, says, “Five minutes ‘til the curtain! Take your places! I can’t wait to see y’all out there!”
It’s Kingsley who opens the show—a cold open, him, alone in a college library, no one else onstage. There’s a moment before the curtain rises when I’m all alone, physically and mentally, and I feel a vacuum of existence behind my eyes. When I close them, even the murmuring noise of the audience that sits just on the other side of the curtain fades, and the only thing I know is something deep, visceral, and untouchable within me. It’s a sort of glowing, vibrant passion that I believe is the source of all my creativity. It’s sometimes dark, but even in its darkness, it seems to glow. And as I stand there before the curtain, holding that glowing darkness, all alone, with no one and nothing else on my mind, I feel like I’m capable of anything. I can smile all day long instead of scowling at the world. I could thank people, say hi to total strangers, and hug my enemies. I feel as bright as a child. I feel like all of my problems are so small in the grand scope of everything. In this moment, everything that defines me as a person is stripped away, and all that’s left are the bare, fragile, innocent pieces I’ve protected since I was a kid let loose on the sunny California beaches.
And in this state of mind, I can see my future with Toby.
And I know I can be truly happy with him.
Then the curtain rises before I’m ready, and it’s okay, because I take in the audience, the setting of the college library, and say Kingsley’s first words.
The rest is history.
From Toby’s nervous yet powerful first entrance as Danny, to our first kiss in scene four when even the audience holds their breath, to the curtain at intermission, we couldn’t have asked for a better first impression of our show.
“Do you see?” Ms. Joy tells us backstage during intermission. “You’ve taken this script and made it into something more than just the words on the page. I am so, so proud of you. Goodness, my husband may not leave me after all, with all the late nights putting this together has caused.” And to all that, Tamika politely leans in and reminds her, “It’s only act one. We still have a whole other act.”
