Unexpected

Let the Show Begin

After Thanksgiving came Black Friday of course, and Grams was yanking me from my covers at the unholy hour of four in the morning. I, of course, had forgotten all about the night of mad rushes and hurried purchases we'd planned days in advance, but by noon we were home and I was eyeing Grumps' lukewarm coffee wondering if the amount of caffeine in it would be worth it to guzzle it down as he snored. I hate coffee though. The smell in the air was comforting, bringing many memories of childhood mornings, but the bitterness, even when drowned in creamer, kept me away from the stuff. I smiled to myself, considering the gifts I had bought and had hidden, not-so-secretly under my bed.

Grams reminisced the tales of the morning to Aunt Lori and Uncle Jim that night when they came over for games and a leftover smorgasbord. Aunt Lori ended up hushing her when the three of us ladies got down to our usually competitive rounds of Boggle. Around a game of Sevens the pair of them jabbered, complaining about the poorer behaviors of yesterday's dinner. I kept quiet, sneakily withholding the seven of hearts, much to the frustration of Uncle Jim who apparently had a whole bunch of hearts that he couldn't play until I did so. Sure, I agreed that Morgan was turning into a devil-child, Aunt Dina's voice was as loud and obnoxious as ever, and that Kylie's abuse of drugs and poor taste in men was going to destroy her.

"At this rate she's going to turn into Michael." Aunt Lori commented offhandedly.

It took me a second to remember the name of some distant half-cousin who I only saw maybe once every two years at the family reunion who happened to be a felon in high school last I checked. After my parents died, for most of my life it was just me, Grams and Grumps. My dad's side of the family sent checks, but they were hardly more than birthday cards, names on the family tree, and recollected pity-filled looks from that long-ago funeral, mixed in with dad's old cop buddies. Beside the once-a-year family reunions and the holiday family dinners, Aunt Lori and Uncle Jim were the closest family we had. Growing up, they were almost like the close neighbors, coming to grill on summer evenings, or Saturday game nights, or, now that my grandparents are retired, they'll come to visit on Tuesdays or Thursdays every so often.

The next few days were quiet in comparison to the burst of the holiday rush, but they were filled with growing excitement as my birthday present came closer and closer. WICKED. Going to musicals was bittersweet, like the coffee that my grandparents drink in the morning, but it was a sort of bitter sweetness that I could handle. Grams loves musicals, so did Mom. As the day of the performance approached, songs from the play were played throughout the house on repeat as Grams and I sang along at varying levels of skill depending on how serious we were being. The repeated songs also reminded me of when my mother would have her show tunes playing as she'd make dinner with me struggling through my times tables homework at the kitchen table. Music is one thing that helps me feel connected to her still, and I couldn't wait.

That night I straightened my hair and put on a rich, bright lipstick that complimented my maroon/ burgundy dress. I even put on black heels. Grams and Grumps were in their Sunday best, Grams rocking a simple black dress with pearls in her ears and around her neck and Grumps in slacks and a jacket. We were a bunch of grins, me beaming with excitement, Grams' satisfaction reflecting me with a smile of her own, and Grumps just amused and pleased that his girls were so ecstatic.

"Happy Birthday, Honey." Grams gushed as we came to the theatre's entrance, tickets in hand. Embarrassed I folded my hands in front of me to keep down their excited shaking.

"Happy Birthday." Grumps agreed, extending his arms to the pair of us and walking us to our seats.

WICKED was just as amazing as I remembered, with bright, ridiculous costumes for the residents of Oz, and the antics of Galinda, and the swirling choreography and stunning props that had my eyes glued to the stage. At intermission I was babbling to my grandparents about the vocal skills of the actress playing Elphaba, to which Grams mentioned that Fiyero wasn't nearly as attractive as the last one. Grumps asked how we would know that since we were in the balcony seats and the actors and actresses were the size of dolls to us, and I replied jokingly that a woman just knows.