Page 116 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

The words mean something completely different in light of our current situation.

I glance up and find Booker watching me. Beside him, Arthur looks desperate, almost guilty.

It dawns on me that he might’ve been next to the lines when the brake failed.

I turn away.

I finally understand that these people have somehow become everything to me. I’m not embarrassed by them. I’m proud.

Theyare what’s been missing all along.

Slowly, Arthur makes his way out to center stage. When he reaches me, he stops. “I... I should’ve checked the—”

I cut him off. “No. This isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

His shoulders slump in relief.

I stare out over the empty auditorium, now muggy and thick with a mildew odor. Only yesterday, I’d imagined people in these seats. I’d imagined their applause, their laughter, their awe at the way this cast brings a classic fairy tale to life.

Now I can only imagine silence.

“What do we do, Arthur?” I feel the desperate resignation in my throat.

“I don’t know, Miss Director,” he says. “Whatdowe do?”

It feels like a challenge from a teacher who isn’t willing to spoon-feed me the answers. But I’m not equipped to handle this. This is a nightmare.

I toss him a look. “Belinda might be right.”

He shrugs. “If that’s your decision, then I’ll support you.”

In the silence, I feel that anger and pride rise again. “I don’t want to quit.”

He nods. “That’s a start.”

I sigh, looking at the stage. “But this...” I turn to him. “What would you do?” I want him to write me a game plan because I have no idea where to begin.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t quit either.” He smiles. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

When he walks away, I search the wings for Booker, but he’s gone back into the scene shop to talk to the firefighters.

I break into the bridge of “Don’t Rain on My Parade,” turning back to the imaginary audience and moving downstage, closer to where, somehow, some way, in three weeks’ time—there will be a real audience full of people ready to cheer for my cast as they open a surprising, magical production ofCinderella.

My cast.

My show.

My mailbox.

I just have no idea where to begin.

Chapter 31

More cast members begin arriving, many of them already aware that something has gone wrong before they even walk in the door.

The fire truck and small crowd outside area dead giveaway.

Arthur, Booker, and I are all working on mopping up the water, wringing it out in buckets, carting it off to a utility sink in the scene shop, and repeating the process.

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