Fade to Us

by Julia Day

  “You’re a great dad to Natalie.”

  “Because she taught me how to be the best father for her from the day she was born. You were already grown up when I entered your life. I won’t get everything right, but I’ll give it my all.”

  He’d just handed me the perfect opening. What if I asked for too much? He wasn’t likely to refuse me, but even the tiniest possibility that he might was terrifying. Maybe we should start small. “We could do more than fist-bumps.”

  “I would like that, if you’ll set the boundaries.”

  “Hugs would be a good start.”

  “Then come here.” He opened his arms.

  I launched myself into his embrace, trying not to cry as he held me. I was surrounded by the strength and scent of him. And like Natalie had said, it smelled like love.

  32

  Unadorned Facts

  Dress rehearsal had gone well. We had a small crowd, but they were laughing in the correct places and applauding often. The cast ate it up. They’d never performed better.

  There were a few mistakes. A dancer who came onstage without a skirt. No butter churn for Aunt Eller in the opening. A scene change that took eight seconds too long. But after Lisa and Micah finished going over their notes, we all cheered.

  Natalie was so hyped. The whole way home, she talked my ear off. When we entered the quiet house through the kitchen door, her monologue continued.

  I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  I tossed it to her.

  She didn’t even attempt to catch. Just watched it clatter to the floor, bent over, and picked it up. “Is Jill at a ball game?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “He’s at the town hall, at a planning board meeting.”

  She walked away and stomped up the stairs without another word.

  I took my bottle of water to my room, turned on my lamp, and laid against the pillows on my bed. I wasn’t sleepy, but I didn’t want to move. Or think. Or feel.

  “Are you sad, Brooke?”

  Although I’d rather divert her, that technique wouldn’t work with Natalie. She needed unadorned facts, baldly delivered. “I’m crushed.”

  “How long will it take you to get over it?”

  “Not sure.” Never?

  “Dad says it’s hard to get over things until all of the apologies have been said.”

  “Jeff’s right, and that option isn’t available to me.”

  She was leaning against the doorframe, staring at the ceiling, asking me about emotions. Had she ever done that before?

  It might hurt to continue with this topic, but I would try. “Do you still talk with Micah?”

  “Yes. Why would you think we stopped?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  She crossed to the window and stared into the moonlit yard. “We mostly talk on breaks now. He hasn’t mentioned you since you dumped him. He’s sad, too.”

  “Really?” Since our breakup, I’d seen him angry, tired, impatient—but sad? “How do you know?”

  “He said so.”

  “He told you he was sad?”

  “No, he told his mom while I was eavesdropping. I wouldn’t have figured that out on my own.” Her fingers wiggled but no knuckle pinching. “He said he hurt so much that he could hardly think.”

  “Please don’t tell me anything else. I can’t take it.” I flicked off my lamp and squirmed in the bed until I was lying flat. Why did I prefer baring my soul with the lights off? “Micah was your mentor before he and I started dating. And during. And now afterward.”

  “I know all that. What’s your point?”

  “Your friendship with him hasn’t been changed by whatever relationship I had with him. When we were together, yours was good. Now that we’re apart, yours is still good.”

  “You don’t get it, Brooke. You think this mess is about Micah, and while that’s partially true, the biggest part of the problem is you. Since I moved to Azalea Springs, everything about me involves you. Everything.” She crossed to the end of the bed and looked at me with full eye contact. “You do a lot of things for me—and everything else, I have to share with you.”

  “Like what?”

  “My dad. This house. I even had to share the musical with you, too. I’d like to have something that is purely mine.”

  “You can’t own people, but you can have relationships that you don’t have to share.” How could I make her understand this? Where were the right words? “You don’t share your dad with me. At all. He’s my stepdad, which is different. I adore Jeff. I know he cares about me, but he’ll never love me the way he loves you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  “All right, then. I’ll just say it. I had to share you.”

  “Me?” I held still, hardly daring to breathe.

  “Yes. When you were dating Micah, you weren’t the same. I noticed. You had less time for me. When you did have time, you didn’t pay attention. I minded that.”

  “I’m sorry, especially the part about not paying attention, but you haven’t got the reason entirely right. I was busy and tired and excited. Yes, Micah soaked up a lot of my hours, but so did the show. And my job. And having a full-time stepsister when I’d been an only child for seventeen years.”

  “We’ve been stepsisters for nine whole months.”

  “But not full-time. Two weekends a month and a few days over Christmas didn’t prepare me to be around you every hour of every day. That’s huge. There have been a lot of things that changed for me this summer. It’s not fair to blame only the dating.”

  “Okay, those sound like plausible excuses. I’ll have to think about them.” Her face scrunched. “When exactly did you start dating?”

  “We began hanging out on July first. Purely friendly. It didn’t switch to actual dates until two weeks ago today.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I was having a hard time around then with the choreography. I was thinking about dropping out.”

  “Why?”

  “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t seem to get better, and it was hard to keep it together. I was afraid I might spoil the show. Since I only had one line to sing, I knew someone else could’ve taken over easily.”

  “One person can’t ruin a performance. A show is bigger than that.”

  She gave me a pitying look. “You’ve never been in a production before. You don’t know how it can get backstage. I’d reached the point where I figured I should quit to save everyone the trouble.”

  I wished she’d told me this sooner. I hated that she’d been carrying it around, all bottled up inside for so long. “There are thirty other people in that show who could screw up.”

  “If they do, it will be an accident. If I do, it will be predictable.” She bowed her head and her hair tumbled forward, hiding her face. “I often sit in fear, because I know I’ll do something bad, and everyone will blame me for destroying the show. They’ll be right, too.”

  “That’s the thing about live theater. Mistakes are part of the fun. The audience would be disappointed if there weren’t any mistakes, because then we get to see you recover. We get to see you be clever and save the day. You go from being talented to being heroes.”

  “Sometimes you can be so incredibly naïve. Maybe there are some people like that in the audience, but not many. Not the parents of cast members. Not the cast members themselves. If I’d known two weeks ago that you and Micah were dating, it would’ve thrown me over the edge.”

  I closed my eyes and let her statement sink in. The breakup had hurt. I couldn’t foresee a time when it wouldn’t, but I’d been right to fear her reaction.

  “You’ve really messed up Micah. He used to be awesome, but he’s not anymore. Now he’s merely above average.”

  My eyes popped open. “How do you know?”

  “I observe things. He’s lost his energy. I said something to him abou
t it, and he told me to back off.”

  “Wow. That was rude.”

  “It’s a legitimate response.” She left my room and disappeared down the stairs. Seconds later, the front door slammed.

  Our conversation forced me to think about feelings I’d hoped had been buried. But I guess not. I missed being part of Micah’s life. I was tired of tiptoeing around the theater, scared to see him and just as scared not to. Even though I’d wounded him, I’d wounded me more.

  33

  Extreme Composure

  Our opening night performance had been a huge success. The audience had been happy. The screwups had been small, even funny. And no one had been injured. That was a pretty good record.

  Only two evening performances and one matinee left.

  I was in the lobby on Friday night by six-forty. We wouldn’t open the house until seven, and already we had a big crowd.

  Over the headset, Micah muttered a curse word, then said, “Major problem. Angelica’s stuck in traffic on I-95.”

  I gasped. One of the principals wasn’t here yet?

  “When’s her ETA?” Elena asked.

  “She estimates that she can arrive in an hour, but I’m not sure I’m willing to trust that.”

  “Should we delay?”

  “No.”

  “We can’t pretend her role doesn’t exist. Gertie is memorable.”

  There was a long pause. “We’ll find someone in the ensemble and hand her a script.”

  I had a solution for Micah that I didn’t want to say over the headset. I waved over an usher. “I’m going backstage for a moment. I won’t be gone long.” Without waiting for a response, I slipped into the auditorium and ran for the wings.

  Micah and Elena were huddled together, both dressed completely in black, nearly blending with the walls. They were peering at a script, speaking in low voices.

  “Hi,” I called.

  They turned.

  “Natalie can do it, and she won’t need a script.”

  Elena frowned at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I think Natalie could replace any character in the musical. She practically has the show memorized.”

  “You’re right. She does.” Micah checked his watch and gave a sharp nod. “Okay, find her.”

  Just like that. He made the decision, then put it behind him. “Micah?”

  He glanced at me, a question in his look.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure.” His mouth relaxed into a smile. “Go.”

  I knew exactly where my stepsister was. When I walked into the campers’ lounge, it was buzzing. Gertie’s absence had been noted.

  “Natalie?” I called. “We need you.”

  The room fell silent as she crossed to the door. “Why?”

  “Come on. I’ll tell you on the way.” I charged down the hall in the direction of the changing rooms.

  She caught up. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Exactly the opposite. Do you know Gertie’s lines?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her blocking?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Angelica can’t make it tonight. Could you take her place?”

  “Yes.”

  I spoke into the headset. “Natalie’s agreed.”

  “Divert to the staff lounge.” Micah’s voice.

  Laurey, Curly, and Aunt Eller were with him. He gestured us over. “These three will help you get into the right places.”

  Natalie said, “It won’t be necessary.”

  “Yes, it will. Let them help you,” he said firmly. “I’d worry too much otherwise, so do this for me. Curly, come here. Stand next to tonight’s Gertie.”

  Once they were in place, Elena studied them, hands on hips. “You’re taller than Angelica, but not enough to be a problem. Will it bother you if Channing touches you to push you into place?”

  Natalie shook her head. “As long as it’s not my bare skin, like on my arms.”

  “If you wear Gertie’s costume, it has long sleeves.”

  “Then I’ll be good. Do I still get to sing my line?”

  “No,” Micah said. “Someone should replace you.”

  “Tesla. She knows it.”

  Micah gestured with approval, and Elena was on the headset, getting someone to take the message to Tesla.

  Things happened fast after that. Curly disappeared with Micah. Laurey and Aunt Eller went with Natalie to help with the costume change. I returned to the lobby, frantically texting Jeff and Mom, asking them to get here as soon as possible. Then I opened the house while the ushers braced for the crowd.

  “Brooke?”

  I looked up. Kaylynn was here with Jonas. “Hi,” I said, handing her a playbill. “I hope you enjoy the show.”

  They went into the auditorium, pausing just inside the door. I turned to the next patron. A few seconds later, there was a touch on my arm.

  It was Kaylynn again. “Your boyfriend, Micah, is in this show.”

  “Yes, he’s running it.” I controlled a wince. “And he’s not my boyfriend anymore. We split up.”

  “I’m sorry.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. We should talk, and get past this.”

  “I agree.”

  “Okay, I’ll call.” She hurried to Jonas, took his hand, and went to look for their seats.

  It would take some time to process that, but not now. I had an audience to get into the auditorium, and a musical to watch.

  By the time the overture started, Natalie was dressed in her new costume and waiting with extreme composure for her cue.

  Natalie’s big sister? That was a different story.

  * * *

  The applause for Friday night’s performance was enthusiastic. The audience had been told of the substitution, and I’d bet that none of them could tell.

  Angelica was almost right about her estimated time. She got to the theater about thirty minutes after the performance started. She sobbed and begged to take over during the second act—which got a big no from Micah.

  Jeff and Mom made it in time to see Natalie’s first entrance. They sobbed, too.

  I could understand why. When her first cue came, she sauntered right onto stage, swaying her hips, flinging her hair, latching onto Curly like she would never let go.

  It wasn’t a flawless performance. The principals had to nudge her into place a couple of times, and her braying laugh wasn’t as obnoxious as the other Gertie’s was. But for an unrehearsed, last-minute replacement, Natalie did an amazing job.

  * * *

  The cast went out for ice cream after the performance. Natalie went with them, but I passed, preferring to sit in my bedroom and stare at the wall. I had to recover from worrying about how well she’d do, and I couldn’t bear the thought of running into Micah.

  A car pulled into the driveway. Natalie’s footsteps smacked up the front steps. Once the door shut behind her, the car drove away.

  My door opened a minute later. “What did you think?” she asked.

  “You were great.”

  “Some people said I did a better job than Angelica.”

  “I think you did. Except the laugh. Angelica’s laugh is more annoying.”

  “She’s welcome to being better at that. I couldn’t bring myself to sound ridiculous.” My stepsister sat on the end of the bed. “Channing is nice. He makes a good Curly.”

  Okay, interesting. “I agree.”

  “Channing asked if I’d be at your high school next year. He said their productions could use me.”

  I smiled without saying anything.

  “Did I say that wrong? Because it was supposed to invite you to respond.”

  “Can you be more precise with the question?”

  “Will I attend your high school in the fall?”

  “I don’t know.” I really didn’t know, but since no one had mentioned when she’d be returning home, her staying here was becoming more probable.

  “I don’t want to, but it wouldn’t be horrible
either.”

  “Nice to know.”

  She flopped backward so that she was half-lying across the end of my bed. “This will sound bad, but I’m saying it anyway. It was good for me that you broke up with Micah.”

  I clenched my hands under the covers. “That does sound bad.”

  “It made me feel important that you did it.” She rolled her head to look in my direction. “Tonight made me feel important, too. That’s when I realized it’s what I actually needed. Not you breaking up with Micah specifically, but me being so important that you were willing to.”

  “Thanks for telling me.”

  “Whatever.” She looked at the ceiling. “I don’t feel the same way about you as I feel about Luke. I don’t know if that’s because he’s a boy. Or a baby. Or because we share DNA. Well, it’s probably that. Blood has to make a difference.” Her head moved restlessly back and forth on the bed. “The only reason you and I are siblings is because our parents married. Would we stop being siblings if they divorced?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Sisterhood should be our choice.” She sat up and frowned at the floor. “I would choose to keep you.”

  This was the closest Natalie would ever get to saying something loving to me, and I would likely never hear it again. I memorized the words, the expression on her face, and the way it resonated into my bones. “I would choose to keep you, too.”

  34

  A Hopeful Sign

  Saturday’s performance wasn’t quite as good as Friday’s, but we got through it, and everybody was happy. We only had one matinee performance to go. Tonight, we had the cast party.

  No party had ever scared me as much as this one did. I would’ve skipped it if it hadn’t meant so much to Natalie. This production had been a triumph for her, a game changer in her life with us. If I wasn’t there, it would come back to bite me. Natalie didn’t forget details.

  I had to survive being in the same place with Micah for an evening without embarrassing myself. He would be in Azalea Springs for two more days. I hated that we …

  No, I had to let it go.

  The cast party was being held in the fellowship hall of a cast member’s church. From the size of the crowd, it looked as if Natalie and I were among the last to arrive.