leaked (l.h.)

43

I'm headed straight for the floor. 

I sit in my dressing room, staring at the floor below me as I wipe the makeup off of my face. The door is locked, and despite the voices that come and go from outside I can't help but lock myself in here. I can't go out there the way that I feel right now, meet their judging eyes. But they have every right to judge me: I ruined a perfect show. All because I couldn't keep myself from falling to pieces for an hour. All I needed was an hour, and I ruined it. 

I take my costume off, hanging it up in the closet and I pull my hair up on top of my head. I take my backpack off of the ground, the bag I brought a week ago with all my makeup and supplies I needed to transform me into someone else. I pick my phone up from where it sat on the desk in front of the mirror, and just like it was all day it reads nothing. Besides a text from my Mom which I had missed earlier before the show. It reads: 

"Happy birthday! Break a leg tonight," completed with a few birthday cake emojis. Ever since I showed them to her, she has not stopped using them. She's so cute. 

I smile softly as I slide the phone into my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder. And as I flick the light off, I hear that no one is left backstage. And as I pull open the door, I make the dreaded walk to the lobby. 

I gulp as I walk down the hallway leading to the remaining few families waiting for their loved ones. I look around, watching how their eyes move to me. I nod respectfully at their compliments, although I don't believe them in the slightest. 

"Honey, there you are!" I feel my Step Dad take my backpack off of my shoulder when I approach. There he stands with my Mom, with the director and a few other men I do not recognize. I raise my eyebrows as they look towards me, at the clothes I had worn to school today. My hair, a mess on top of my head. 

"Hi, Ms. Grace," the older, bald-headed man says as he holds his hand out to me. "I am Lawrence Jennings."

"He's from the company that's holding the awards," my director winks at me, and as my eyes widen I see that they're not upset at all. They're.. happy?

"Listen, listen," My Mom nods, tears in her eyes as she shakes her head. I look at her as I shake his hand, feeling his firm grip on my much weaker hands. "Oh my god."

"What is it?" my eyebrows raise. "What's going on?"

"I'm a critic, that's my 9-5," Mr. Jennings says to me. "But I'm always looking for future actors for my summer gig at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre. Ever heard of it?"

My eyes widen as I wrap my arms around myself. My jaw drops as I hear this, and I turn over to my director. "That's, that's where Waitress opened, right? That's, like, Broadway."

"I'd like to work with you," he nods as he holds out a business card. "If you're interested. I'd like to have you in my company."

"I..." I gasp, furrowing my eyebrows together as I look at my director, at my parents, at Jennings. "Are... are you serious?" 

"What you have is something that most professional actors work years to achieve," he smiles as he nods towards my parents. "Give me a call sometime this week, and we can discuss more."

"Of course!" I nod frantically, my jaw dropped as he walks away from me. And as I stand before the three of them, I can't help but wonder if my performance wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

"Oh my god." The director shakes her head. "Oh my god."

I turn to my parents, watching how my Mother shakes her head in disbelief. My Step Dad, scoffing as he looks down at me. "God, and you said you were nervous."

Him, my Mother and I all walk out to the car together. My cheeks hurt from how wide I was smiling, and as I climb in the backseat I realize that I was distracted. Despite how incredible things are going, I still feel that ache in my heart that reminds me that Luke didn't show up. Luke broke his promise. 

I furrow my eyebrows as I take a deep breath. I pull my seatbelt over my body, furrowing my eyebrows as I lay my head on the window. The sun is down, and it had just turned eleven PM. If Luke was going to come, if he wanted  to come, he would have shown up by now. 

"I got you marble cake, from Walmart," my Mom turns to me as my Step Dad drives us home. "If that's okay, that's all they had. I know how much you like making your own."

"No, it's okay," I shake my head. "That's perfect. Thank you." 

We get home in about five or so minutes. Walking takes much longer, about half an hour. But driving at night is better than walking at night, the same way walking during the day is better than driving. It's prettier at night, and I can actually focus on how gorgeous the neighborhood is instead of worrying about who may or may not be following me. God, I wish I wasn't so paranoid all the time. 

"We didn't get you many gifts this year," my Mom says as she walks through the door. "I hope you don't mind."

As I sit at the kitchen island alone, I see the warm yellow light coming from the overhead. The marble is cold against my arms, and as I take the one present I see in my hands I see that it's cloth. I carefully rip open the flower-print wrapping paper, and when I see what it is I can't help but smile. An apron, my favorite color.

"Since you like cooking so much," she chuckles. I can tell they're both tired. I don't think they're awake enough to eat cake tonight. "It only fits that you have one."

"Thank you," I say genuinely, standing up to wrap my arms around their body. "It's wonderful. I'll wear it tomorrow."

"You don't mind that we wait to cut your cake?" My Mom says as my Step Father turns to hide his deep yawn. They're asleep before 9 usually, so staying up this late is new to them. 

"No, I don't mind," I shake my head, glancing up at the clock above their heads. Eleven fifty. Luke isn't coming. 

And as they see me glance to the clock, they remember why. My Mom frowns, reaching forward to move a bang that has somehow fallen in front of my face. She says nothing, but I know what she means. And for a while, I'd ignore her. 

But I nod. I know what has to happen. 

"Goodnight, sweetie." My Mom says softly as she presses a sleepy kiss to the top of my head. "Don't stay up too late."

I nod softly as the two of them make their way upstairs, leaving me alone in this cold kitchen. I sigh as I pull my phone out of my pocket, and despite how badly I wanted this to work out - I can't do it any longer. I can't keep getting my hopes up, only for them to be crushed to the ground. 

"Luke," I text, taking a deep breath as I begin the text that I never thought I would have to send. For months, all I wanted was him. And now, I'm the first to call it quits. Funny how these things work. "I can't do this anymore. I give up."

I hit send, frowning as I hold my face in my hands. I shake my head as I feel them moisten under the tears that come with the end of such a beautiful relationship. The mascara stings my eyes, and I feel how exhausted I am. From a week's worth of performing the same show over and over again, and trying to prevent myself from becoming heartbroken yet again. I tried to ignore it, the signs that he and I were never going to be what we were in the beginning, but it's staring me down now. I shake my head, sliding my body off of the chair I was sat in. It's eleven fifty nine now. 

I walk towards the last remaining light in the kitchen, hanging the apron up on the side of the refrigerator. I flick the light off, leaving me in the darkness. And as I begin the long walk towards my bedroom, as I take the first step towards my bedroom, I jump when I hear a sound I did not think I'd hear tonight.

Knock Knock.