Life being Perfect

Alyssa's Story

People always said that I was perfect. They said that I was beautiful, witty, charming, funny, and even talented.

Now here’s the truth: Never in my life, did I think I was any of those things.

I didn’t think that my dark brown curly hair was gaze worthy.

That my hazel eyes were something to look into.

And I sure as hell couldn’t fathom why people complimented me on my unique beauty; the kind they didn’t see often.

Never, did I think that I could make people laugh or that my voice would touch millions, and that I would be able to be anything but ordinary.

I always thought that I was a normal girl that was adopted by rich people after being in foster care for six years. So when people told me that I was perfect, I blushed and dismissed their complement. It was all jokes, right?

“Hey Alyssa! You ready?”

I looked up at the mirror reflection of Bane, the show’s production manager.

He held a clipboard in his hands, and looked flustered like his normal self. 

I had grown accustomed to seeing his fiery red hair popping out from every inch of his head, and his thick rimmed glasses lop sided like usual.

“Umm...yeah. I’m ready.” I affirmed, checking in the mirror one last time to see that my makeup was done and my costume was worn.

“Great. This is your last show. Make it count.”

“Oh come on Bane!” I scoffed, “You say that as if I’m dying or something.”

“You’re not dying Alyssa. You’re doing something worse.”

I rolled my eyes. “Moving to London is hardly worse than dying.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, my dear.” Bane placed his hand on my shoulder with a steady but soft touch, “Instead of letting Canadians have pride for producing a magnificent Broadway talent like you, you’re going to let the British take all of our glory.”

“Oh Bane. You’re so melodramatic, I’m surprised you don't perform on stage instead of managing it and the people on it.” I uttered sarcastically, “Besides, Canada is always going to be my home.”

“They all say that.”

“Well they all aren’t me.” I smiled, “and if you still aren’t assured, I don’t plan to do any Broadway musicals in London. I’m going there to study. I’m going to be a pastry chef.”

“Famous last words.” Spoke a different, but still familiar voice. “We all know that with a voice like that and your acting talent- not to mention your beauty- there’s no place for you in the cooking business, however talented you are. Fame is your calling, my dear.”

“Thank you.” I meekly replied, losing words.

Ms. Robin had been my drama teacher ever since I started high school.

I wasn’t ‘The Alyssa Hart’ back then. In fact, I don’t think I’m ‘The’ anything, still.

When I first entered Ms. Robin’s drama class, I felt like I would never belong.

What would a petite, wild haired, bug eyed fourteen year old ever do in a classroom filled with stunning, confident persons?

But four years, five musicals, seven plays, and nine standing ovations later, here I was.

Tonight was the last night I would ever do Broadway, that I assured myself of.

Despite the lust of this life, this career, and who it made me, I was ready to retire at the age of almost eighteen.