What's Behind Curtain Number Three?

Let's Start At The End

This year, Henry and I decided to make a musical making use of all my composition. It was a win- win situation seeing we can both use the extra credit. I am a music major as Henry was into theatre, if it isn't obvious enough.

We started doing annual plays when we were in our freshmen year. Back then we just pretty much invited whoever we can to watch and pulled out favors from friends who we know would love to get a chance to play on stage.

Money wasn't that much trouble seeing Henry is rich, his mom is a broadway actress and his dad is a producer. They supported him from the very start, gay or not. I on the other hand, well, not that I'm scavenging for food or anything, its more of I'm too stubborn to ask money from my family.

Ever since my dad died, my mom barely gives a damn about me and wallows in her pain by working away, far- far away. Ok so maybe we aren't really that poor, we do have several companies and corporations and stuff, but seriously all I know is the name and that's that.

What can I say? I wasn't into the family business.

Well, there is one. The music company that my dad built, it was practically an empire now producing a lot of big names that I'm not allowed to mention.

But like I said, I don't ask money from my mom, my dad had left me an amount that will probably last me two decades, not to mention he even left me my own wedding fund- not that I have any plans in the near future, but hey! It's nice that someone thinks I will eventually get married.

 But after what happened last time...

I pushed the memory out my mind as I walked up to the stage, toward the grand piano and sat down. I ran my fingers on the keys and started to play a song I always play whenever I remember that certain moment in my life, I closed my eyes as the cue to sing comes.

 "Close enough to start a war,
 All that I have is on the floor...
 God only knows what we're fighting for,
 All that I say, you always say no...
 Cause I can't keep up with your turning tables
 Under your thumb I can't breathe...
 Cause I won't let you close enough to hurt me
 No I won't ask you, you would just desert me
 I can't give you, the heart you think you gave me,
 It's time to say goodbye, to turning tables...
 Turning tables..."

I shifted leaping the second verse and move to the bridge,

"Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior,
When, the thunder calls for me...
Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior
Standing on my own two feet..."

I held the last note until I was out of breath. So I stared at the keys for a second, catching my breathe and continued to a mellow version of the chorus,

"Cause I won't let you, close enough to hurt me,
No I won't ask you, you would just desert me
I can't give you, the heart you think I gave me,
It's time to say good bye- its time to say good bye..."
I paused after a high note, and continued.
"Turning tables..." I ended in almost a whisper.

I closed my eyes and listened until I reached the last note and stared at the keys of the piano. It didn't make me feel better, but it did burn a bit of anger and frustration.

To my surprise, someone from the audience applauded. I looked around, but the lights from above were shining too brightly that I had to squint and cover my eyes.

"Hey..." I heard a familiar voice say.

"Oh, hey Liam." I smiled.

Liam is our creative director, we've worked with him several times, he is a great artist and is taking up advertising. He is one of the quiet guys in our annual group.