Center Stage: Chapter 1
| March 28, 2018“Out of this world, ladies!” Rina gushed as she sailed into the backstage dressing room, the final applause still roaring in her ears. “You outdid yourselves tonight!”
The music began to play. Rina stood behind the thick curtain, waiting. She briefly closed her eyes, allowing the notes to fill her from head to tingling toes, imagining the full-bodied music swelling from an orchestra pit just below the stage, as she’d once seen it at the Met.
This, of course, was not the Metropolitan Opera, and the music filling the auditorium beyond the curtain was prerecorded, but nevertheless, as she counted the beats in her head — one, two, three — she felt her heart drum fast, and a burning sensation rise from her stomach to her throat.
When she’d first started performing, this pre-show anxiety was almost enough to chase her off the stage, but by now, Rina had learned to welcome it, to flow into the excruciatingly exquisite state of heightened awareness.
Six, seven, eight. She heard the rustle. She saw the sliver of light that meant the curtain was opening. Slowly, Rina began to walk forward, her long skirt swaying gently, her chin tilted at just the right angle. She kept walking until she felt the warmth of the spotlight, and then she stopped, waited, as the black mass beyond the stage erupted in applause.
Rina felt herself lifted up on the wave of cheers, felt herself floating somewhere above, and, when she opened her mouth to sing, the song that emerged filled every corner of the theater, and she was no longer standing in the Scott P. Wilkens Auditorium of P.S. 49; she was onstage in a gilded opera house, she was on Broadway; she, Rina Levitan, was a star.
Midway through the song, as she slowly began floating back into herself, as she became aware once again of the click of her heels on the hard wooden floor, of the swish of her sleeve as she raised her hand triumphantly toward the ceiling, Rina allowed herself a peek at the audience.
Other actresses didn’t like to look at the audience while they performed; it threw them off focus, brought back those jitters. But Rina drew her energy from the admiring throngs, and, though most of the women out there were swallowed up by the onstage lighting, if she looked down, she could see the faces in the first two rows.
She made eye contact with one random face, allowed herself a brief wink, and saw the girl’s megawatt grin flash back at her. Her eyes roved again; there was the organizer of tonight’s performance, smiling complacently, front row and center. And there, toward the end of the second row, was Rina’s mother, and her daughters, Atara and Huvy.
Rina’s voice faltered for the tiniest millisecond. Inwardly berating herself, she pulled her eyes away from the audience, training them upward instead, toward the ceiling, toward the very Heavens, as she finished her song with a final crescendo.
The applause began before she’d even drawn breath, and Rina kept her arms stretched outward toward the audience, as if embracing them and their adoration, until after the heavy curtains had rustled to a close.
***
Back in Row 38, Gabriella shifted in her seat and gave yet another yawn. She glanced at her watch. How long could this show possibly go on? She’d been up half the night with Levi, who, it emerged from this morning’s doctor visit, had an ear infection, and all she really wanted to do right now was go to sleep.
In fact, if it were up to her, and she were here alone tonight, she would be asleep, on the cushioned chair in this dark auditorium. But she was sitting between Malka and Leah, her neighbors from up the street, and she thought it might not be such good form to fall asleep on them. Especially when, every other second, they were whispering some variation of “Isn’t this incredible?”
Gabriella didn’t know quite how to respond; or, rather, she knew exactly how to respond: “Totally! That singing! That acting! That storyline! It’s making me laugh! It’s making me cry! So moving, so inspirational!”
Problem was, what she so badly wanted to say, with a slight arch of the eyebrow, was, “You call this incredible?” Because, honestly, did these women really think that this was real acting? Real staging, real plot development? It was nothing more than a bunch of amateur performers putting on some amateur play for women who didn’t know any better.
She, of course, did know better. But that was in her past, and not for the sensitive ears of the innocent ladies sitting next to her.
Gabriella frowned, as she squinted at the stage. The star of the show, Rina someone, did have a nice voice, she had to admit. And stage presence — she had to give her that. Malka and Leah had gone on about her when they were convincing Gabriella to join them at this show. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen her perform! You’re totally missing out, it’s such an experience!”
Gabriella leaned her head back in her seat, as she felt her eyes begin to flutter shut. A nice long nap, now that would be an experience.
Next to her, Malka was laughing hysterically at some joke.
“They are so unbelievably talented!” she squealed into Gabriella’s ear, causing her eyes to pop open. “How do they know how to act so well?”
Gabriella pursed her lips in the dark. “Yeah, it’s incredible,” she said.
***
“Out of this world, ladies!” Rina gushed as she sailed into the backstage dressing room, the final applause still roaring in her ears. “You outdid yourselves tonight!”
Her cast, the eight women who were part of the acting troupe she’d formed five years ago, in what she considered one of the most inspired decisions of her life, gathered around her.
“Rina, it was you, you were unbelievable!”
“That solo piece totally brought down the house!”
“My sister-in-law just texted me that everyone around her was in tears when you sang.”
Rina glowed and basked and modestly pooh-poohed their words. “I couldn’t do any of this without you,” she declared. “But together, we’re fabulous!”
A knock on the dressing room door interrupted her. “Rina?” The stage director stuck her head in. “There’s some lady here who wants to speak to you. From Kolos magazine.”
Rina raised an eyebrow and followed the director out of the room.
“Hi, Rina, sorry to disturb, unbelievable performance, have a few minutes for a quickie interview?”
Rina blinked at the lady with the short sheitel who had stuck her face way too close to Rina’s.
“Um, sure. What magazine did you say you were from?”
“Kolos, you must’ve heard of us, the new magazine about the frum entertainment world?”
Rina smiled widely. “Yes, sure.” No, she hadn’t heard of it, but, hey, publicity was publicity.
Rina barely had time to register the question the woman threw at her, before another woman joined the fray. “Hi, I hate to bother you, but I’m a drama teacher at a high school for girls at risk, and I was wondering, would you be willing to come down and speak to our girls? They would just love it, it would mean so much to them, a role model like you!”
“One at a time, ladies, one at a time,” she said graciously, feeling like a queen dispensing largesse. “I’m happy to speak to you both, but in the morning!” She laughed, and her audience of two laughed with her.
Before she knew it, there were more people coming, surrounding her, asking her questions, wanting to capture a piece of her magic, her aura, and to Rina, it was nearly as heady a feeling as what she’d felt on stage an hour ago.
“Where did you get your training?”
“How do you come up with your plots?”
“How often do you all practice?”
“Where did you get your gown?”
“Do you feel you’ve achieved your dreams, or do you have plans to take this further in the future?”
Rina had been laughing and throwing out witty one-liners to the rapid-fire questions, but at the last one, she paused, her smile fading, and, looking the questioner in the eye, said distinctly, “Of course I have plans. Achieved my dreams? What am I, dead?” She smiled once more at the crowd.
“Excuse me. Um, excuse me, can I get through?”
A newcomer was meekly trying to make her way through the throng, and Rina turned in her direction, as she heard someone hiss, “Where do you think you’re going? We were here first!”
Inside, Rina’s stomach clenched. Aloud, she said, “Let her through, please. She’s my daughter.”
(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 586)
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