Born to Perform

Chapter 20

I wake up on Friday morning with a sickening twisting feeling in my stomach. It suddenly hits me like a brick wall that I am leaving for California today and I’m not coming back for six months. I had tried not to think about the leaving part too much and only focus on the incredible opportunity part but now I feel absolutely terrified. What if I get homesick? Well, of course I’m going to get a bit homesick but hopefully not too much, I tell myself. More than any of this, though, I don’t want to leave Sam while we’re on such bad terms. I was really hoping that we would stay in touch while I’m away but it’s not looking too hopeful now. 

I try to cast aside all my worries and focus on getting ready for one of the most important days of my life. This is the start of my career, I tell myself and feel all my ambition and determination flood back to me, washing away my doubts. 

I gracefully roll out of bed - a move I have been perfecting since the young age of six - and throw open the doors to my wardrobe. If I’m going to be a Hollywood star, I’m going to have to dress like one, so I guess that means no knee high socks or cardigans for me. After nearly half an hour of rummaging through my clothes, I finally decide on a floaty emerald top and a white skirt. I curl my hair into soft waves, apply some subtle make-up and finally put a little ring with an amber stone on my finger. My outfit is a metaphor: the green top is for Elphaba because I had to defy gravity to get this far, the white skirt is for Maria because I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her and the amber ring is for Fanny Brice and her orange coat because when I get on set, no one’s going to rain on my parade. 

Before going donwstairs, I sit down at my dressing table and examine my reflection in the mirror. My room is decorated with a Broadway theme (if you hadn't already guessed) with playbills of my favourite musicals and posters of my idols lining the wall. My mirror is surrounded with twelve blinking lights just like the ones backstage in all the best theatres and I have thick red velvet curtains just like stage curtains. My bedroom is my haven for when I want to curl up on my bed with Broadway numbers blasting through my iPod, dreaming about the future. 

I stare back at myself and imagine for the millionth time that I am in my dressing room before my debut on Broadway - although this time it’s very slightly closer to the truth. 

“I can do this,” I recite to myself, “I’m a star. I always have been a star and always will be a star. No one can tell me otherwise. I’m strong, I’m confident and I’m talented. I believe I can do this.” This has been my pre-performance ritual for as long as I can remember. It took a few years to choose the perfect words but for the last five years at least, I’ve been reciting this before all the important days of my life. This one is the most important yet. 

I manage to haul my suitcase down the stairs, although I am nearly crushed at one point, only to find my parents and two best friends standing in the kitchen. They all look tear-stained, even my dad, and they have hung a farewell banner across the door. 

“Surprise!” Cassie and Sienna chorus feebly, choked by new tears rolling down their cheeks. I rush over and hug them both so tight I can barely breathe. I let a few stray tears trickle down my face but I know if I start crying properly I will never stop. 

“Have you got all your things ready?” my mom asks, picking up her car keys and brushing a tear off her cheek. 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say more to myself than anyone else. 

My dad loads my luggage into the car and we all pile in. I sit in the back in between Cassie and Sienna and we spend the two hour journey just chatting and laughing like normal, as if we aren’t going to be separated in a few more hours. 

As soon as we arrive at the airport, I suddenly feel a naïve glimmer of hope that Sam might be there to see me off. I try to tell myself that it’s unlikely but I can’t help but wish that he’s standing there at the gate to say goodbye.