On the edge of everything

Part 9

On Friday, opening night, the cast starts the day late. We don't go to class, we just do one final run through before the night arrives. I don't wake up until the February sun is in the sky; for the first time in weeks I'm not exhausted from rehearsals late into the night followed by early morning trains to school. I'm not tired or overwhelmed right now; I'm just anxiously excited.

As I get out of bed, I walk over to my dresser, lined with a dozen photo frames. The images range from my first birthday, sitting on my grandpa's lap in my grandparents beach house, to an image of Elena, Samantha and I on the first day of senior year, clad from head to toe in the iconic senior red.

In the summer between my fourth and fifth grade years of elementary school, my mom made my summer project the sorting of all of our thousands of photos by year. As I went through each and every last photo in our house, placing them in chronological order, I made a pile for myself. I chose the very best of the photos and put them aside gently into a flower-covered photo box which I still keep in my room. These photos were of my favorite people, favorite places, favorite moments. They each have particular significance, and I treasure them as such.

I pick up the image that I think might be the treasure of all treasures. It is a photo of Lacey and I running through a field. I think that it was taken somewhere in central Oregon. I am about four years old and she is nearly ten and it is one of the clearest days from the memories of early childhood. Though most of the time I am so excited for Lacey and what she has gained from her new life in Spain, right now I just want her to be with me. I want her to be a part of my senior year and all of the accomplishments and new experiences I'm having. I want her to see how I am changing, who I am becoming. I want to try to talk to her about what I felt with Rose, but talking over the phone or on facetime is not the same as sitting with your sister on the couch, drinking hot cocoa late into the night.

Tonight, opening night, is one of those moments that I want to share with my sister. I think of texting or calling her at that moment, just to tell her that I am thinking of her and that I love her but it's nearly midnight for her on a school night- she is fast asleep. She's in Spain, and I'm in Portland and, right now, at least, that distance seems unbearably large.

"Oh look at you!" Samantha exclaims as I enter the auditorium 15 minutes to ten. Though we will soon change into our costumes, it is a tradition to dress up on opening night. It's like our own special premiere and we want to give it the elegance and celebration that it deserves. Once I heard this a few days ago, I dove into Lacey's closet. My motto is that if she didn't take it to Spain, she doesn't care about it very much and therefore it is open for me to take. I don't believe that she thinks the same way; Nevertheless, my closet has grown in the last six months and hers has dramatically decreased.

The outfit that I have decided to wear today is a creation of that closet. The dress, the heels, the cardigan-- all Lacey's, not mine.

"Why, thank you," I respond. "Look at everyone!" I look at her, wearing a long flowy skirt that was probably intended for summer but is being worn in March, then I scan across the auditorium. Everyone is dressed to the nines, something that isn't too regular at a school like ours; sweatpants are seen at least 10 times as often as dresses or slacks and probably 20 times as often as heels or dress shoes. But today, today, we are all dressing up. It's our opening night.

"Hello, everyone!" Mrs. Laurel says enthusiastically, the consumed caffeine audible. All of us mumble hellos accompanied by tapping feet and nails being bitten, just as it was before the musical was announced two months ago. "Wow-- Opening night! Ah! How did we get here? I'm not sure, but somehow we did," she smiles at us and I can feel her sappiness coming out. "And, wow, I couldn't be more proud of the show that you have all constructed. You know, me and Ms. Blakeley are just here to help you. This is your show, not ours. You have done all of the work; you have put in the hours and the effort and now you get to see the beautiful, beautiful product." A couple tears make their way down her face, creating sniffles throughout the crowd.