Phoebe's Performance

The Show Must Go On

This is a defining moment in my life that's for certain. My head spins with what the repercussions will be in my budding career. If it wasn't for her, I don't know if I'd even be here in the first place, trying to get on stage. Maybe, just maybe I can fight my case with Maestro. Maybe he'll believe me. But the words the stage manager said repeat in my head.

So why am I even here in the first place? Mickey doctored my resume, creating the opportunity for the recruiter to put me forward as a musician's assistant. I met Otto. He convinced me to get back on the piano. We played duets together. Then when Otto and I fell apart she called Maestro, even when I protested. She's interfering, maddeningly so. But I love her and she's Super Girl.

But this time Super Girl couldn't help me for I lost my chance by seconds.

Suddenly I'm reminded by a different defining moment so long ago now; I had been preoccupied talking with Ben at the bus stop and missed my ride to the audition. My throat feels tight as I remember how Mum and Dad attempted to get me to my audition. I cover my mouth, stifling a sob. Here I am again. I've missed out. Surely this isn't one prolonged conspiracy to prevent me from ever performing on this very stage.

I can't watch this anymore.

I can't just wait for the performance to finish and gesticulating madly toward backstage Mickey links her arm through mine. She steadies me and like I'm a colt learning to walk she ushers me from the dreaded stage wings.

"We need to dry off." Mickey chews her lip and starts opening random dressing room doors. I point to the one on the end, the dressing room I'd always wanted in this theatre. We enter the dressing room, not caring who it has been allocated to. Mickey pushes me into one of the empty seats in front of a large mirror which extends across the wall.

This is where I should have put on my makeup before the show. Ugh.

The reflection staring back at me is tired and worn. My hair is scraggily and Mickey attempts to drag a random brush through the stands. "I need a hair drier or something. You can't explain the situation to Maestro looking like a ragamuffin."

"Do you think he'll believe me?" I ask.

Mickey, resourceful as ever, finds a hairdryer and switches it on. "Hair first."

She ignores my question. It's just typical that she ignores me. But I'm too tired to protest. None of this matters anymore. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I don't even know whether Maestro will back me going to Vienna, if I'm still planning on going there....

This evening is a mess.

Sophie and Carol suddenly appear in the dressing room, who knows how they found us. Sophie is laden with a jammed bag. "You had a few items in your suitcase which I'm guessing are for performances for when you get to Vienna. Both you and Mickey need to get dry, so put them on." She removes clothing from her bag.

"I missed the performance. There's no point in getting too dressed up," I say, taking the red garment from Sophie's hand.

"You need to have a frank conversation with Maestro and make sure he fully understands what that bitch did," Mickey says severely. "So stop moping and put the thing on."

Carol strips me on the spot and pushes me back into the chair. As the ballerina Carol is much more competent with anything stage related and she takes over the hair drying. Sophie helps Mickey out of her sopping clothes.

The three girls chat as Carol beautifies me. Somehow I don't think it will be enough. I close my eyes momentarily, forming words to explain Veronica's deception and soon the hairdryer turns off. Carol then directs me to close my eyes. She applies makeup to my devastated face. But when she's done, I can barely to look at my reflection in the mirror, my silky hair, the performance red dress. I'm a failure.