After The Show

Small pleasures

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The night was the coldest of the year. Outside the wind was blowing with all its force, making the floor shake. The rain was falling through the flaws that the roof had, but inside, inside no one seemed to notice, mainly because the lights of the theater warmed the body of those who were there, while Miss Medda warmed their hearts.

Sitting in the dressing room hearing the can-can being played brightly as the girls danced in their sparkling costumes, I leaned in towards the clouded mirror, taking time while applying the rouge pigment to my lips.

The dressing room at Medda's was a bleak place, full of young and old showgirls aspiring for a little bit more in life. The haze of cigarette smoke was dizzying and constant, but if most of the women there were honest with themselves, they founded joy in little besides smoking. This job, despite appearances, was not an enjoyable one.

The crowd was often filled with rich and wrinkly old men and although some of us were way too young to understand why in the past we got thrown into someone else's hands, we all knew that in the present we were all getting thrown into those old men fantasies. Singing for money and dancing for pleasure.

The theater was the only enjoyable thing in all that.
Beautiful gems hung from the ceiling, creating a beautiful glow that embraced the entire room. The walls were painted dark red and decorated with satin and silk curtains of either a lighter color or whitewashed. I always founded myself tempted to run my fingers along the smooth material.

The smell of perfume and roses was mixed with the smell of nicotine that was now making my eyes sting. In the audience, everyone seemed excited about being there. While some were drinking a glass of whisky, others were smoking what was left of their cigarettes.

Through the old red velvet curtain, I could see all those boys with their eyes fixed on that big stage.

"Why does Medda keep doing this to me?" I thought to myself. "This is so embarrassing."

Deep down I knew that what Medda was doing was a good thing, letting all those newsies in to have a warm place and a warm smile for a few hours. But for me, the situation was uncomfortable, for me that was an uncomfortable place full of uncomfortable people.

I took one last glance through the curtain. I could see Racetrack and Crutchy in the second row followed by a bunch of Newsies whose names were unknown to me. I think the one next to Race is called Jack and the other next to him is named Skittery, but I'm not sure, my vision is all blurry at this point.

"You're next darling." Medda said with her soft and kind hands in my shaky arms.

I closed my eyes for what felt like two seconds and rocked my body towards the open stage feeling only the heat of the light radiating down on me. On my way to the edge, I was greeted by applause from all around the theater. Most of the boys waved their hats in the air while some of them were whistling.

I winked slightly to Racetrack who laughed pretending to faint.

The chatter of the other showgirls and the distant cheery music echoed menacingly in my ears as the song started to rise wide.

"Small pleasures
Who would deny us these?
Gin toddies, large measures
No skimping if you please!"

The crowd was dancing among with cheerings and once again applauses. A small blush came to my cheeks and I bowed in appreciation.

"I rough it, I love it
Life is a game of chance
I'm never tired of it
Leading this merry dance
If you don't mind having to go without things
It's a fine life."

"It's a fine life" They all repeated in a loud and tune chorus.

"Tho' it ain't all jolly old pleasure outings...
It's a fine life."

"It's a fine life" They all repeated once again.

"Who cares if straightlaces
Sneer at us in the street?
Fine airs and fine graces
Don't have to sin to eat
We wander through New York
Who knows what we may find?
There are pockets left undone on many a behind."

My eyes met with those of a young man leaning against one of the old and dirty theater armchairs. This one wasn't singing and for sure wasn't dancing but in his wet whisky lips, he was hiding a devilish smirk.

"Though you sometimes do come by
The occasional black eye
You can always cover one
'Til he blacks the other one
But you don't dare cry."

I find myself continuing to look at him. His eyes were still on mine and that smirk was still on him and as much as I wanted to shift the view, at that moment I was unable of doing so. Everything was a daze, yet felt so surreal.

"If you don't mind having a black eye
It's a fine life."

It's a fine life

"Tho' it sometimes touches me
For the likes of such as me..."

Mine's a fine...

Fine life!