And if the bug hadn’t totally bitten her by the end of the show, the final line, “Maybe there’s no pot of gold at the end of it, but there’s a beautiful new world under it” certainly did. As far as little Elise was concerned, the stage was the rainbow and the beautiful new world was a life beyond Lowville.
Turning her back on the simple life offered by her parent’s tight-knit Mennonite community, Elise had applied to college in that beautiful new world. She’d put herself through the Tisch School of Arts at NYU with loans she’d be paying off for the rest of her natural-born life while she waited tables and played crappy parts in off-off-Broadway plays hoping for her big break.
“Great life you’ve made for yourself here,” she muttered, taking a deep breath and letting it go slowly. “Beautiful new world my…my…foot.”
She hung up her dress for tomorrow night’s performance (ugh), put her makeup away and swiped a paper towel over the top of her dressing table. Grabbing her backpack, she turned off the light in the tiny, grubby room and made her way down the backstage hallway toward the exit.
Incredibly tired and a feeling a little defeated, she didn’t exactly look forward to the twenty-three block walk home to save bus fare, but pulling out her sofa bed and falling asleep sounded like pure heaven. Her roommate, Neve, whom she’d found via an ad in Backstage magazine, owned the apartment where Elise sublet the living room. On Friday nights, Neve bartended until after three, and Elise was fairly certain she’d sleep right through her roommate’s late-night return.
“Great job, Elise!” cried Paige, bustling out of her own dressing room with a southern cheerleader, can-do grin. “Great show!”
Sighing inside, Elise forced a smile and nodded at her co-star. “You too, Paige. Great work.”
It was all such baloney, but Elise said the lines with practiced warmth and sincerity that Paige beamed at her.
“Think the audience noticed my flub in act two?” Paige asked, her elbow rubbing Elise’s as they headed toward the stage door together.
“Nah,” said Elise. “You covered it like a pro.”
In fact, Paige hadn’t covered it. Elise had. But who cared anyway? There weren’t more than fifty people in the theater that held over two hundred, and she didn’t believe the play would last beyond the month.
Great, she thought. I’ll be unemployed by May.
Well, unemployed in the theater, she corrected herself. Her job at Virile Vic’s BBQ wasn’t going anywhere.
Literally.
“Yeah,” said Paige, giggling. “Well, it sure was exciting! We’re on the stage in New York City, Elise! That’s what I tell myself every morning. I made it! See you tomorrow!”
Paige burst through the door to the sidewalk, waving goodbye as it slammed shut. Elise stopped short at the green-painted metal door, sighing heavily and leaning her shoulder against the cement wall to her right.
Outside the stage doors of most Broadway shows, hordes of fans stood impatiently, waiting for the stars of the show to exit, and begging for the actors to sign their programs or take selfies. Although Elise, as a rule, hadn’t pursued acting for fame or recognition, she still dreamed of a day when audiences would turn out in throngs to see her because she was good, and because she loved the craft of acting more than anything else in the world.
I made it!
What a joke.
Pushing open the heavy door, she was greeted with the cool, smelly air of 12th Street Manhattan, a wet sidewalk, a slight drizzle, the never-quite-dark skies of New York overhead and…nothing else. Two men holding hands bustled by her, chatting animatedly, and a woman walked slowly toward her, talking on her cellphone, explaining why she couldn’t make it out to Connecticut this weekend.
There were no fans. No well-wishers. No one.
Hiking her backpack higher, Elise turned right and started walking at a brisk pace, refusing to feel sorry for herself.
She’d been in New York for seven years, the last three of which she’d been auditioning, doing the occasional off-off Broadway show and wondering if she was throwing her life away. She had no important reviews of her work, her updated headshots this year had decimated her bank account, and when she called home, she knew full and well that none of her family members respected or supported her life choice, disappointment heavy in her mother’s voice, especially. Friends were a luxury that rehearsals, performances, auditions and waitressing didn’t readily afford, and apart from some girls she occasionally hung out with from Vic’s, she was mostly a loner. Which was fine with Elise because although she came alive on stage, most people would accurately describe her as fiercely driven, but a natural introvert, she preferred to study the world in the shadows, taking silent notes to be used when she finally got the chance to channel a character.