Courtney's Going To Prom

1~Notes To Self

Seventeen years of living backstage. When I say that, I mean it. My dad is Trent Oliver. Yes, the one on Talk To The Hand. And the one who went to Juilliard. And the one who's in the Non-Equity touring cast of Godspell. Okay, I'll stop. You get the point. My dad is 'famous' as he calls it. I'm not making fun of him, I promise. If anything I'm proud of him for actually making the cast list for shows unlike me who can barely survive an audition alone. You'd think as someone who's the daughter of a talented actor would be able to nail her auditions and make every single one and be the perfect person for the part who'd make the show known worldwide and get the show a tour and a decade long run but no. I can't sing. I can't dance. I can't act. I don't have any special talents. Hell, I can't even gather up the courage to audition.

I laid on my bed reading a book on the music theory, peacefully listening to Falsettos. I was coincidently half way through the chapter on half-notes when my dad burst into the room, a wide grin on his face. I shut my book with a sigh then looked up at him with an annoyed expression on my face. I paused my music then sat cross-legged on my bed and waited for dad to make his announcement.

"Guess who's coming on tour with me and the Godspell cast?" He slurred.

"Uhh, I don't know. Someone?" I replied, trying not to laugh at how drunk he is.

"Dee Dee Allen, Barry Glickman, Angie uhh I forgot her last name, anddddd you!" He said fumbling across the room.

"You're saying that I get to go with you and Dee Dee Allen and Barry Glickman on tour." I asked, containing my excitement,

"That is exactly what I am saying, daughter." He slurred.

"I cannot wait. Should I start packing?" I questioned.

"Yes. That would be a very good idea."

"I will get on that then." I nodded as he began stumbling out of the room. "Oh and dad, go and get some sleep."

"I will do that." He said, wagging his finger at me then almost falls his way out of the room.

I let out a small chuckle then got up and shut my door. As I turned to face my bed, I saw the time. It's 12:30. Damn, I spent a long time reading. I placed my book back on its spot on my bookshelf then slipped on my pajamas then into the comfort of my pink comforters and a few moments later I was off in dream land for what seemed like minutes when I was awoken by a loud knock at the door of the apartment. Assuming that dad is still recovering from being drunk, I leaped out of bed and sped over to the door to find that the knocking is louder than I thought it was. I glanced through the peephole to see a very messy Dee Dee Allen. Looks like she was drinking too last night. I mean, it was the opening night of Eleanor last night. I scrambled to unlock the door and let her in.

She strutted her way in and plopped herself on the couch before I even had the chance to say hello. I shut the door and cautiously walked over to what I think is sober Dee Dee Allen. She reluctantly kicked her shoes off then proceeded to throw her coat in my direction which I caught hastily.

I carefully placed the coat onto the coat rack then turned to ask Dee Dee, "Do you want a drink?"

"That would be amazing, young Oliver." she groaned. "Do you have any alcohol?"

I walked into the kitchen and pretended to look for booze even though I knew where it was. I placed a fake confused look on my face as I stood up and faced Dee Dee. "Looks like we don't have any at the moment. Could I offer you some water?"

"Eh, sure." She replied.

I grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it halfway with water and no ice. I walked it over to her and gave it to her. I sat down next to her on the couch as she chugged the water. When she finished, she slammed the cup down onto the side table. Luckily, I gave her a plastic cup. There's been a few experiences with dad smashing glass after coming home drunk and I figured Dee Dee would be the same. Turns out I was right.

She turned to face me and asked, "What are you wearing, young Oliver?"

"Oh," I replied, just now looking down at the outfit I'm wearing. "Pajamas?"

"You sleep in shorts and sweaters? It's freezing outside." Dee Dee exclaimed.

"Yes, I'm aware. I just like being cold." I replied.

"Why would anyone like being cold?" Dee Dee asked.

"Why would anyone like being drunk?" I shot back.

After my snarky comment, she fell silent. We sat there for a minute before dad's door flung open and slammed into the wall. Both Dee Dee and I jumped.

"Morning da-" I started.

"Can't talk. Hungover." He said as he rushed into the bathroom, just to fall over the toilet. Within seconds, you could hear the sound of vomit pouring from his mouth. I cringed and hurried to the kitchen to make some tea for dad because it usually helps with upset stomachs.

"Trent, I think I might puke if you keep this up." Dee Dee complained, rubbing her temples

"Dee Dee, stop it. It's just what happens when he gets hungover. He can't help it." I argued. "I could make you tea if you want some too."

"That would be nice. Make it herbal if you have any." She replied.

After listening to dad puke for at least fifteen minutes straight, -which is ironic sense he's gay- he walked out with incredibly messy hair and fell onto the couch next to Dee Dee. I carefully made my way over to the two of them, a mug of tea in each hand.

"Herbal tea for Dee Dee," I said, handing her the mug. "And a fruity tea for dad. Be careful,"

"It burned my tongue!" Dad exclaimed.

"It's hot." I finished.

"You could have mentioned that before I drank it." dad said, a smug look on his face.

"You could have waited for me to finish my sentence." I shot back, walking into my bedroom to change into an acceptable outfit.

"Hey, where are you going now?" dad asked.

"My bedroom, to change." I replied, annoyance present in my voice.

"Don't be gone too long." Dad said.

"I'm going to my room, not Central Park." I mentioned.

I walked into my room with a sigh. I deal with this way more often than you'd think. Let me clarify something. I don't deal with drunk adults often. But I do deal with passive-aggressive adults more often than I should. For some odd reason actors tend to be more aggressive than they should be for reasons I don't know. It could be because acting is a genuinely hard career that drains you or because of something else. I grabbed an off white shirt with flowers on it, black leggings, and my cropped light blue denim jacket. I quickly brushed my hair and threw it up into a messy high pony. I checked myself in the mirror then skipped back out into the living room to see both dad and Dee Dee fast asleep on the couch. Surly I wasn't gone for too long. How long are they going to be like this? We have a long-ass drive ahead of us to Indiana that none of us are really looking forward to. Well, maybe the Godspell kids are excited. I mean, I am. This is the first tour I get to go on which is extremely exciting. Maybe my mind might change an hour into being stuck on a bus with four famous broadway actors and a bunch of noobs on their first show.