Opening night.
Charlie always loved opening night.
He loved the warm chatter that filled the theatre, burying into every nook and cranny. He loved the dozens of happy faces, all smiling and laughter that came from them. He loved the chaotic energy that blanketed backstage, actors muttering their lines to themselves, others dressing in costume, some applying makeup to their skin.
Most of all, he loved the praise. After slaving for months over his work, it finally all came together, and he was able to show everyone something that he had made, all from his own heart, brain, and time. Nothing, nothing, could beat the sound of thundering applause crowding the cramped theatre, the red velvet seats groaning as people took standing ovations.
Charlie took a sense of pride in his work, and opening night was always something to celebrate for him — except tonight, it was no celebration.
He could blame it on the stress, or the chaos that filled his life lately, but he knew the truth. Tonight didn't feel like opening night, although he knew it was. It was almost as if he was going through the notions, relying on muscle memory to get him through the night. His body was seated among a hundred others, eagerly waiting to see what he had to present, but his mind was not there. He wasn't sure where his mind was.
Earlier that night, when people had started to pour into the theatre, he found himself pulling back the heavy curtain, eyes frantically searching for your face. When he came to the conclusion that he couldn't find it, he had hoped maybe he had just missed you, or you were sitting too far back to see. But he knew the chances of you actually being there were low, if anything, not existent. You had no reason to be here, to come and see him.
And now, as everyone sat patiently, a hushed whisper hanging over the theatre, he finally realized where his mind was; on you. But when was it not?
He knew that the play would be starting any minute now, after his introduction. Swallowing hard, he pushed his large frame out of his front-row seat, making way to the stage stairs.
He wasn't nervous, not even with a hundred faces eagerly waiting to see what he had to present. He had gotten over his stage fear long ago when his career started. Now, being on stage, talking to people, telling them what to do, it was natural to him. A hundred face or only one, it was all the same.
The lights were blinding as he made way across the large stage, leather shoes thumping loud against the old groaning wood as he eventually positioned himself smack in the middle. Moments later, a tech worker dressed in all black jogged across the stage to him, handing him a microphone, and then quickly disappearing once more.
With his big hand wrapped around the microphone, his brow furrowed in thought, and he brought his eyes to the crowd once more. A million eyes blinked back at him, their faces blinded by the white stage lights. He felt his body heat up under the warmth of them, sweat collecting under his knit sweater and dress shirt.
Clearing his throat, it echoed into the microphone. He found himself searching once more, for your face, for hope, for some sort of mental ease, but he never found what he was looking for. He pushed himself to speak.
"I, uh, wanted to first of all, thank everyone who came tonight, your support means everything to my theatre company, Exit Ghost, and I," he paused.
"Tonight, my actors will be performing a love story that is old as time, that everyone knows of. This act is about love, and the suffering, and uh, torture, that love brings you. Although this performance isn't an original of mine, in a way, the story is." He continued. His voice echoed loudly throughout the theatre.
YOU ARE READING
PUT ME IN A MOVIE - Charlie Barber.
Fanfiction" Lights, camera, action....he didn't know he'd have this much fun..." Recovering from his divorce, Charlie had fallen into bad habits - smoking again, drinking again, and not prioritizing his time with his son, Henry. Charlie was desperate for a...
