Page 119 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“Let me worry about that,” I say, fresh resolve blooming inside me. “I have a feelingeveryoneis going to want to see this show now that this has happened.”

Because it’s not only time to tellmypeople what I’ve been doing the past month and a half; it’s time to tell everyone. The people who love you are meant to share everything with you—the highs and the lows. The joys and the disappointments.

Revelation is a great thing.

I start divvying up jobs for all the willing helpers as a few others trickle in the door. Spouses and neighbors of cast members, other residents who got Connie’s text alert—many with towels or fans or heavy-duty Shop-Vacs—all here, all willing to help, contrary to her initial worry that some of them might not be able to handle it.

Once everyone is situated, I pause and look around.

I take in the scene.

I watch for a brief moment as this group—some of them with no vested interest in the success of our show—work to clean up the mess. The fire department has gone, leaving all of us here to sort through everything in hopes of sucking up enough water and drying things enough to make them usable again.

There are a lot of people I’ve never seen before, alongside people like Daisy and Louie, who’ve shown up without being asked.Theatre is a community.

A beautiful community that I’m proud to be a part of. Whether on a stage in New York City or right here in Wisconsin.

I catch Booker’s eye across the stage and see the way he’s assembled a small group to help move the set pieces out onto the loading dock to dry in the sun. He gives me an encouraging nod, and I hand a mop to Grace’s husband, David, who tells me he took the day off to do what he can to help.

“This show has been so good for Gracie,” David says, taking the mop from me. “She’s singing around the house again! She never sings anymore, and boy, I love to hear her voice. We moved here so I could be closer to my dad. She left her friends back in Omaha, and”—his eyes trail across the stage to where Grace is helping Ginny sort through dripping-wet costumes—“She’s happy again. This show and these people—you—mean everything to her.”

I go still because I understand how being a part of something can change a person’s direction. It can change their life.

But it’s been so long since I was a part of anything that changed mine.

He’s giving me more credit than I deserve, and it hits me sideways, right in the deep part of my big feelings. It almost makes me cry.

He pushes the mop across the stage, then stops. “A lot of people stop doing the things they really love when they get older.” He brings his eyes to mine. “I’m not sure why. Those things are what keep us young. So thank you for giving Grace a place to do that. And for reminding her what it feels like to be happy.”

The nerve endings in my body tingle at that because it dawns on me that I should never be embarrassed by doing something good, of being a part of something wonderful. This isn’t what I set out to do or who I set out to be.

It’s so much better.

Chapter 32

An hour later, the doors at the back of the theatre open, and I see Bertie walk in. She makes her way to the stage, and I meet her near the stairs, giving her a hand as she walks up the steps.

Once she’s standing next to me, she faces me and squeezes my hands. “Booker told me what happened. Are you okay?”

Her kindness makes me want to collapse, to be honest and let all my feelings out.

“Not really, if I’m honest.” Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. “But we have a lot of help.”

“I made muffins,” she says. “Baking is my love language.”

I laugh through the emotional drain. “That was so kind of you,” I say. “Thank you.”

I look around, marveling at all the people who’ve come out to help. Booker has started removing the ruined top layer of the floor, which is painful to watch, and a few of the others stand by to help him. Who knows what it looks like underneath that layer—it will need to be dried and painted and the staples pulled out, but hopefully the damage doesn’t make the stage unusable.

“I wish the accident was the only problem we’re facing,” I say sadly.

“What do you mean?”

I tell Bertie about the low ticket sales and the importance of this show turning a profit. “I know I won’t be here after this summer,but I can’t stand the thought of this group losing their theatre program.” And I really can’t stand the thought that I could be the one who couldn’t save it.

Bertie squeezes my arm. “You really care about them, don’t you?”

I look around the space again.Thisis community. This is the adventure. It’s not traveling or seeing the world—or starring in a huge show on Broadway. It’s simpler than that. It’s people.

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