Page 54 of Intermission
“You’ll be home by midnight?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Okay, then. It’s been a long day. Be careful driving home.”
“You, too.”
She exits without speaking to any of my castmates, not that I expected her to. When she’s gone, the tension in my shoulders loosens with the knowledge that she won’t be coming to either of the other two performances this weekend.
Until I remember she still has that program... and that I’ll needto tread lightly tomorrow to wipe the “Madeleine” part of it from her mind.
Saturday’s matinee experiences a few bumps, as I’ve learned is often the case with the second performance of such a limited run. When one of the nuns forgets her entrance and slips on stage late, it’s no big deal, but when Gretl, the youngest von Trapp child, forgets to deliver a pivotal line and has to be prompted, it’s a breath-stealing twenty seconds or so—eternity, when you’re on stage. Finally, she delivers the line, and as it must, the show goes on.
Afterward, Grandma Maddie filters down the line of performers in the lobby. Unlike Mom, she starts at the top of the receiving line and works her way down, giving out “Nice job” and “Well done” accolades as she goes.
“Madeleine Faith!” She exclaims and wraps me in a giant hug. “You were superb! Oh, my! Simply perfection.” She turns to Dr. Miller, ignoring the fact that he’s talking to someone else. “This is my granddaughter, you know. Isn’t she wonderful?”
“She is,” he says, smiling at me first and then Grandma. “We’re very glad Madeleine decided to join us this year.”
“Thanks, Dr. Miller.” I was anxious around him at first, knowing his daughter had been vying for the same role, but he’s actually a very kind man and not at all what I expected after experiencing Leopold Loyalty firsthand on audition day.
“Madeleine is my namesake,” Grandma continues. “But she’s the one who’s going to make our name famous. This girl is going to be the toast of Broadway someday. Mark my words.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Dr. Miller says, offering both of us another genuine smile before turning to greet the next person in line.
“Sorry I didn’t make it to opening night,” Grandma says, “but since your mother was coming, I thought it might be better if I...” She shrugs.
I get it. And she’s right. Especially considering the way my name reads in the program.
“But I’ll be back tonight!” Grandma gives me another breath-stealing hug. “Oh, honey. You were just wonderful. Wonderful! Ack! I’m holding up the line. See you tonight, sweetie!”
As promised, she returns a few hours later for the eveningperformance, which turns out to be, at least in my opinion, the best of the three. At the curtain call, when I notice the person sitting beside her, my already-wide smile enters cheek-aching territory.
“Ryan!” In the lobby, I step into my brother’s hug. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“I wanted to surprise you.” He gives me an extra squeeze and steps back. “That was awesome, Faith. Really. Great show.” He leans in. “And I don’t think I’m biased by saying you were the best part. This musical theatre thing you’ve got going on? It’s good.” His eyes are warm, his gaze serious. Honest. “You’re really, really good, Faith. Youbelongup there, on the stage. Don’t let anybody tell you differently. Got it?”
There’s no question as to whom his “anybody” refers. “Got it.”
Ryan’s words soak into places of my brain that feel parched and make them float. He’s always been a wonderful big brother, but his responsibilities rarely give him time to come visit these days. I miss him. The fact that he would come to Leopold, for me, makes my day. Especially considering the cold shoulder he’ll likely receive from Mom for coming with Grandma Maddie.
Or not. The parameters for cold-shouldering have always been markedly different for the non-artsy, not-named-after-their-grandmother Prescott children.
It’s Sunday, the morning after that final show ofThe Sound of Music, and my mind is still happily buzzing with the last vestiges of the performance high I’ve been riding all week. I’m all smiles when I join Dad—and Ryan, who stayed the night—at the breakfast table.
Mom’s absent this morning. Last night, when she found out Ryan went to the show with Grandma Maddie, she claimed a migraine and went to bed early. This morning, she fixed breakfast for Dad—only Dad—and then went for a run.
I’ve no doubt she’ll have it out of her system when she gets back, though. I mean, it’sRyan. Not even Mom can stay angry at him for long.
“Listen to this, Dad.” Across the top ofThe Sommerton Journal, Ryan winks at me. “Under the direction of Dr. Jeremiah Hitchings, the Leopold Community Theatre christened the newly restored Leopold Opera House with a standing-room-only performance ofRodgers and Hammerstein’s The Sound of Music. It goes on, blah, blah, blah.” Ryan clears his throat. “But here’s the good part:The high point of the first act was when Leopold Community Theatre newcomers Madeleine Prescott, in the role of Liesl von Trapp, and Noah Spencer, as rookie Nazi recruit Rolf, flirted their way through the most convincing portrayal of ‘Sixteen Going On Seventeen’ this reviewer has ever seen.” Ryan tilts the page toward his father. “Look, Dad. There’s even a picture of our little star, right there!”
Dad lowers the medical journal he’s reading and takes the paper from Ryan’s outstretched hand.
He smiles at the photo taken during our duet. Tilting his head back a bit to peer through his bifocals, he reads the caption aloud. “Madeleine Prescott... Madeleine?” Dad arches an eyebrow at me. “Your mother’s not going to likethat.”
“She already saw it in the program.” I’m surprised he hasn’t heard about it.
Dad sighs, shakes his head, and looks back to the paper, reading the photo’s caption aloud. “Madeleine Prescott and Noah Spencer wowed the crowd with their flirtatious duet during the Leopold Community Theatre’s opening night production ofThe Sound of Music.” He pauses. His mouth moves silently as he re-reads the caption. “Noah Spencer. I know that name.” His brow furrows as he studies the picture. “Why do I know that name?”
