Page 53 of Intermission
Noah squeezes my hand. “You’ve got this, Madeleine Faith.”
I tiptoe-lean to place a well-blotted kiss on his freshly shaven, set-sprayed jaw then double check to make sure no lipstick was left behind. “Thanks.”
Noah stays beside me, silent, his hand in mine. About two minutesbefore my entrance, he gives my hand a squeeze and releases it.
“Break a leg, Liesl,” he whispers, reminding me of the mental shift I need to make, and then presses a tender but bolstering kiss to my hair—which can’t be pleasant, because the makeup crew practically shellacked it with hairspray.
“Right back atcha, Rolf.” He won’t go on for a bit yet, but I’m saying it now anyway.
He gives me a little wink and backs away, giving me room to pass by him on my way to my entrance point, stage left.
At the interior edge of the curtain, I bounce a few times on the balls of my feet and do a neck roll left, then right. It’s almost time for my entrance.
Right on cue, my jaw tightens and my mouth dries, a familiar sensation that generally follows the appearance of those illusory butterflies. But I don’t fear this particular incarnation of stage fright. Iwelcomethe feeling now, because I suddenly remember that those butterflies are working on my behalf. They’re simply condensing the magic,safeguardingit... until the moment when I step into the lights and they give it back to me.
It’s an incomparable thrill, this pre-performance high. I feel like I could faint or cry or throw up or laugh hysterically or spontaneously combust, but... wow! I love this feeling. It’ssucha rush!
This. This is what I want. This is how I want to live. This is... me, being fully, unequivocallyalive.
The whistle shrills. Captain von Trapp, calling his children to meet the new governess.
I.
Am.
Liesl.
I’m beaming as I take the stage for the curtain call. My body is buzzing, like the moths darting through illuminated dust motes under the stage lights. I curtsey... and swoop to the side, joining the other von Trapp children who came on together before me, tomake room for Captain von Trapp and then Maria.
After the final bows, the houselights come up, and we exit the stage to line up and greet the audience in the lobby.
Standing between Dr. Miller—we’re offstage now, so he’s not my “Father” anymore—and the boy who plays Friedrich von Trapp, I smile at the audience members as they file through. But there’s one person who does not file through as expected. She beelines for me.
Mom.
She offers me a plastic-wrapped mixed bouquet and one of the most disingenuous smiles I’ve seen since Kaitlyn Roscoe introduced herself to me.
About a million degrees of heat travel up my neck as I take the flowers, seeing she has a program in her other hand.
The program that lists “Liesl” as being played byMadeleine Faith Prescott.
“Thanks for coming, Mom. And for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome . . .Madeleine.”
Uh-oh.
I flinch as her jaw twitches and eyes narrow. I’m a little surprised the corners of her fake smile don’t crack under the weight of that ice.
“The building is not quite as fancy as I expected from your description, but it is a surprisingly extravagant facility for this size of a community.”
I swallow. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“It was fine. The nuns were a little shrill at times but... not terrible. It was nice enough, overall. Good job.”
High praise indeed, from the formidable Janet Prescott, C.P.A.
“Thank you.”
