“Can we just see what happens?” I say. “We’re both going to be in the city this year. Maybe we could…keep hanging out and see how we feel?”
His face falls. “You’re not even going to let me take you on a date?”
“Not yet,” I say. “But…not never. Okay?”
For a second I’m afraid he’s going to storm out of the theater and never speak to me again, that I’ve managed to ruin things with the one real friend I have left at Allerdale. But then, slowly, he starts to nod.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll pencil you in for ‘not never.’?”
Half an hour later, I’m sitting next to Russell and Alex and Rico in the sixth row of Legrand, almost exactly where I sat during our first company meeting, and the houselights are going down on the opening performance of Bye Bye Banquo. As the curtain rises and the first witch says, “When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain,” Russell reaches down and takes my hand. Yesterday I would’ve laced my fingers through his without even thinking about it, but now that I know how he feels about me, everything is different. I give his hand a quick squeeze, then pull away and loop my arm through the crook of his elbow instead. Even though touching him is awkward now, I’m really glad he’s here next to me. I need something to hold on to.
There are no songs in the first few scenes, and I can feel the audience settling into the rhythm of Shakespeare’s familiar text. But when the orchestra starts playing in the middle of scene three and witch doubles come out to replace the original witches, everyone seems to wake up a little, and programs start rustling all around me. Somewhere in this theater, I know Uncle Harrison is smiling.
Banquo and Macbeth approach the witches, who start singing to the tune of Bye Bye Birdie’s title song:
We brew potions, newt’s eye and toe of frog,
and your future rises from the fog!
Thane of Glamis, draw near and hear us sing!
You’ll be Cawdor, then you shall be king!
We know we’re just a bunch
of crones upon a heath,
but gaze into our eyes.
We’re psychics underneath….
Hail to Banquo; no, you shall never reign,
but your sons will rule this whole domain.
When the song ends, nobody applauds at first, and I’m pretty sure my heart stops beating entirely. But then someone in the back starts clapping, and when everyone else joins in, it actually sounds pretty enthusiastic. “They don’t hate it,” Russell whispers into my ear. We smile at each other in the dark.
I feel almost removed from my body as I watch our creation unfold before us. The ensemble sings our version of “The Telephone Hour,” spreading the rumor around the kingdom that Macbeth has become thane of Cawdor. Lady Macbeth convinces her husband to murder Duncan, then does it herself when he’s unable to follow through. When Macbeth is crowned king, Lady M sings my favorite song in the show, our parody of “How Lovely to Be a Woman.” Her double is Julianna, the woman who was supposed to play Rosie in Birdie, and somehow she manages to seem scary-ambitious and darkly comic all at once as she sings our lyrics:
How lovely to be a monarch, and rule o’er all the land,
how lovely to mete out judgment and wear a crown so grand.
How lovely to have men slaughtered if they show too much vim,
and order a flashy banquet whene’er I have a whim!
How wonderful to know
that I can overthrow
the highest in the land
with this hand
and one good murderous blow!
How lovely to be a monarch, a castle for my home,
to order the men around, though I’ve no Y chromosome!
How lovely to bask in my regency….
Life’s lovely when you’re a monarch, like me!
The audience doesn’t seem to know quite what to make of the song at first, but the mood in the room shifts as the verses unfold, and soon they decide collectively that it’s okay to laugh. It’s one thing to have a few directors and cast members giggle at something you’ve written, but it’s entirely different to know a whole room full of people thinks what you’ve created is funny. I close my eyes and soak in the uproarious applause when the song is over, and for the first time, I feel like everything is going to be okay.
Things get more serious after Macbeth and Lady M have Banquo murdered and his ghost shows up at their dinner party that night. Macbeth’s double appears to hover on the brink of insanity while he sings our reprise of the title song:
Lord, it’s Banquo! Foul scorpions fill my mind.
You’re before me, though the rest seem blind.
Do you mock me? Will you expose my lies?
Must you stare so, with your cold dead eyes?
Oh, why did I assume your death would set me free?
I’m feeling such remorse. I should’ve let you be….
Bye bye, Banquo, good friend, our time is done.