Backstage

Backstage was always my refuge, my safe space.

Long hours of rehearsals, auditions that made my nerves scream, shows where the whole audience laughed and cried and joined in on their favorite songs. The stage was my home.

Until it wasn’t.

Opening night. I had the lead role for the first time in my life, and I was beyond excited. I’d gone from an ensemble member with one line a show to spending weeks memorizing words and music and blocking. It was amazing. Backstage was buzzing with people, cast members and stage managers and tech crew all preparing for the culmination of three months’ worth of rehearsal.

Sunday. Our second show. Less people there than the first night, but still a large turnout. One of the cast members messed up the blocking, changing the choreography for a whole dance, which we laughed about backstage.

Monday. We had a show in the middle of the day for some elementary school kids, an impressively tough crowd. I forgot a line and my castmate had to feed it back to me on stage. Backstage, we still laughed, but I couldn’t hide my embarrassment.

Tuesday. My costume was gone, some mistake by the tech crew, probably. Backstage was a nightmare as we scrambled to find the dress, but we fixed the mistake just before the show opened.

Wednesday. One of our dancers broke a bone on stage and we had to call off the show for that night. I’d never been more dissapointed. He seemed to feel the same way.

Thursday. The male lead got sick and couldn’t come. His understudy wasn’t there either, so we had to teach one of the ensemble members weeks of rehearsal condensed into an hour. He made it through, but the crowd was less than pleased. Backstage was tense the whole show.

Friday. Very few people came to our last show. My voice was giving out on me and I messed up one of the songs. We skipped a whole scene because the actor was in the hospital and we didn’t have a replacement. Backstage, someone got mad at me for messing up what was obviously an easy note to hit. I think she was my understudy. To say I felt bad was an understatement.

Saturday. The theater department made less money off this show than any show in the past. Budget cuts and meager ticket sales put financial strain on our high school’s art programs. The theater program was to be cut next year.

One year later. I sit backstage, at the last show this auditorium will ever see. There are so many things I wish I’d done, so many things I still want to say. Shows I haven't performed, songs I haven't learned, auditions I haven't been to. But backstage is now a ghost of its former self, all the joy taken out of it. It is now just a tomb for the happiest memories of my life.

I leave after the show is over. It hurts to look at the theater now.

I never want to go backstage again.