Page 22 of A Temporary Forever

The word has its magical effect, and in the midst of organized chaos, we all lean into our talents and skills and dive into the opening act.

The lights blind me as the first tones fill the house. And just like so many times before, I forget the ordinary to fully immerse myself in my art.

On the stage, there is no visa, no Caleb, no sadness. Only me, the music, and the freedom of movement. Full surrender.

Here, I can be someone else. Not better or worse than in real life. Just me, stripped down to the raw feelings while I portray someone else.

Without words. Without thoughts. Without censorship.

Just my legs and body, moving around with all I’ve got in me. For the audience. For my mom. But mostly for me.

Because every performance is a form of rebirth, the stage pointing a mirror at me, so I can bare my soul and rediscover pieces of myself.

The playful. The broken. The rebellious. The free.

When the curtain comes down, Jose pulls me tohim and hugs me tight. “Fuck, we did it again. Even better than last night, chica.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat, tears of joy and regret pooling in my eyes.

The celebration backstage is even louder than the night before, despite yawns from the party or just from general exhaustion.

Leon knocks on the doorframe of our open dressing room. “You were magnificent, but let’s not get over ourselves. Take a break, and let’s meet at rehearsal tomorrow.” His eyes meet mine, and I can’t form a word through the loud echo of my heart in my temples.

“Celeste, don’t forget to pack your things.” Reinhard steps behind Leon, who jumps and pivots so quickly, the theater director almost topples.

“What do you mean, she should pack her things?” Leon’s eyes dart between me and Reinhard.

Reinhard shrugs. “Today was her last day.”

My face heats with the communal gasp that leads to complete silence.

Leon’s gaze stops ping-ponging and lands on me. Fisting my clammy hands, I nod and look down. I can’t bear the disappointment on everyone’s faces. Or relief.

Whatever my colleagues might feel about me leaving, I have enough of my own emotions to bring me down, so I choose to stare at the linoleum as if it’s the most interesting piece of art in the world.

“That makes no sense,” Leon huffs.

Reinhard’s voice makes shivers crawl across my skin. “I can’t employ people illegally.”

“What?” Leon snaps, a confused murmur in the background.

I look up, because hiding in plain sight is not going to fix the situation. I’m letting these people down, and I feel like shit about that, but I summon all my strength to own the fuck-up.

“My visa expired.”

Leon jerks his head. “How is that possible? Have it renewed!”

I hug my arms around my waist. “We missed the deadline.” I glance at Reinhard.

Leon whips his head to the manager, who looks completely unimpressed by all the drama.

“Are you kidding me?” Leon’s words boom around us. He turns to me. “How could you?”

I flinch. “I didn’t realize—”

“You didn’t realize?” Leon flails his arms in the air. “You practiced with us for months, and didn’t care enough to make sure you could actually deliver?”

“Hey, Leon, shut the fuck up.” Jose steps around him. “Obviously she didn’t do it on purpose.”

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