Date: Fri, 5 Aug 2016 19:15:38 +0000
From: Joel <joelyoung120@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Messenger - Chapter 11

			       The Messenger
			       By Joel Young

		    Chapter 11 – The Final Curtain:
			    Cheer Up, Sexy Boy

I slept in until noon on Saturday.  Last night's show had been amazing, but
it had also been exhausting.  After nearly twelve hours of sleep, I enjoyed
a leisurely start to my day before leaving the house for our 5 o'clock
call.

Almost everyone in the cast and crew arrived early.  It seemed like we were
all excited about doing the show again.  Mary, however, was a few minutes
late.  She was obviously congested, and she looked pale.  Jennifer took one
look at her and walked her straight to the girl's dressing room.

Soon, Jennifer came back out by herself.  "Okay, listen up!" she shouted.
"Who's got something to help Heather?  I'm talking aspirin, ibuprofen,
decongestant.  Somebody's got to have something!"

A girl on the light crew, Melissa, said she had some decongestant.
Jennifer asked her to bring it down to the stage.  As soon as Melissa
handed the package to Jennifer, Ben went over to them.  He took the box and
read the information on the back.

"Jennifer," he said.  "I can't let you give medication – even
over-the-counter medication - to a student.  It's in my Volunteer Services
Agreement."

"Fine," Jennifer said.  "Maybe the audience won't notice Mary sneezing all
over Zeb and wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand!  Of course,
if you think that might be a problem, you could have Joel go prep her
understudy.  Or, God forbid, we give Heather something for her congestion!"

Ben looked totally frustrated.

Then, he opened the box and took out a blister pack of the decongestant
tablets.  He closed the box and shook it.  We all could hear another
blister pack rattling around inside the box.

"Good," Ben said.  "It's empty."  He handed the box back to Melissa.  "Can
you please go check on Heather for us?" Ben asked.  "I know you and Heather
are best friends, and I'm sure you can help her more than either Jennifer
or I can."  He handed the blister pack he had removed from the box to
Jennifer.  Melissa grinned.  "Sure, Mr. C.  Should I check her once or
twice?" she asked.

"Twice," Ben said.  "I've read that two checks should work for situations
like this.  Oh, and make sure – she's hydrated."

"Got it," Melissa said.  "Two checks and one full glass of water - coming
up."

Melissa went into the girl's dressing room.  Ben headed the other way
toward the light booth.  As he walked past me, I stopped him.

"I can't believe you, Califonte," I said.  "You accuse me of playing with
words to get what I want.  Then, you pretend to be doing the right thing
while recruiting a young girl to do your dirty work.  Wouldn't that be
covered somewhere in your Volunteer Services Agreement?"

Ben gave me a condescending look.  "If you want me to follow the spirit of
the agreement, just say the word."

I quickly realized the possible consequences of my challenging Ben, so I
said nothing more.

"I thought as much," Ben said.  "Next time, don't criticize someone for
doing what you want them to do."  He chucked me under the chin and walked
off.

I knew I could have faulted Ben for doing the same thing to me during our
first `off book' rehearsals, as well as several other times.  But, of
course, I said nothing.  And, I know it sounds strange, but I actually
admired how Ben had tried to put me in my place.  After all, I was being
cheeky in a difficult situation.

A few minutes before the curtain opened, Ben came backstage.  "We must have
been a big hit yesterday," he told us.  "We're sold out again tonight!  And
most of the people we're turning away are buying tickets for tomorrow
afternoon!"

That news was more welcome to the actors than it had been for our first
performance – now that we were a little more confident.

"Oh, and by the way," Ben said.  "Just so there are no surprises, Corey's
parents are in the audience tonight.  If they come down the line at Lobby
Call, be sure to say something nice."

I thought about what I might say to the Andersons.  And, I thought about
how I should handle my parents being at the show that night as well.  I
really wanted to avoid having them embarrass me with over-the-top
compliments during Lobby Call – in front of the entire cast.

By show time, Mary was doing better.  She was less congested and a little
less droopy.  Her performance that evening was good, but it didn't quite
have the charming quality that it had the previous night.  When she and
Kevin left the stage after their flirting scene, there was no spontaneous
applause.  And, in my opinion, the entire show seemed to have lost its
edge.  So, I tried to step up my performance.  I deliberately slowed my
speech, spoke louder and tried to sound more philosophical.

When the show ended that night, we all lined up backstage for the curtain
call.  The audience applauded for us, and they definitely seemed to have
enjoyed the performance.  When Mary and Zeb came out, there was
enthusiastic applause, but the audience did not give them a standing
ovation as last night's audience had done.

I followed Mary and Kevin for my curtain call.  As I walked out on stage,
the audience stood up and clapped even more loudly.  The standing ovation
really caught me by surprise, and I was somewhat embarrassed.  "I bet my
father started this," I thought to myself.  But, at the same time, I sort
of enjoyed being recognized during the Curtain Call.

As it turned out, however, I did not enjoy the Lobby Call.

Even though our performance was a little off that night, the audience
members who stayed for the Lobby Call were very complimentary to the cast.
When I noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had almost worked their way to
the end of the line, I also saw that Mrs. Weber was directly behind them –
followed by my parents.

"Joel," Mrs. Anderson said when she got to where I was standing.  "Thank
you so much for doing your best to fill in for my Corey.  I know
Mr. Califonte wanted Corey for the lead, but you did a good job - under the
circumstances.  It must have been so hard for you to step out onto that
stage knowing you weren't fully prepared.  But, you got the job done.  Why,
I might not have even noticed most of your mistakes if I hadn't heard my
Corey practice those speeches over and over again.  Corey was glad you were
his understudy, Joel.  He really didn't mind helping you try to learn the
part.  And, I'm sure he regrets not having enough time to work with you on
– what does Mr. Califonte call it?  Character interpretation, I think."

I heard every thinly veiled insult Mrs. Anderson had thrown at me.
Unfortunately, so did my father.

Dad stepped out of line and approached Mrs. Anderson.  "Oh, you're Corey's
Mom?" he asked as he shook her hand.  "Hi.  I'm Richard Young, Joel's
father.  It's so nice to meet you.  We were all so shocked and concerned
when we heard about the accident.  I hope you don't mind, but I put Corey's
name on the prayer list at out church."

"So far, so good," I thought to myself.  But, I knew my father.  He had
never allowed anyone to get away with criticizing me in front of him.  I
dreaded what he was going to do next.  And, just as I feared, he came to my
defense.  In my father's most sincere and supportive sounding voice, he
continued speaking to Mrs. Anderson.

"I can't tell you how I felt when I heard the things you just said to my
son.  I think Joel deserves all the praise you professed – and much
more.  Joel told me how Corey was overwhelmed at times by his large part.
I suspect most underclassmen would have been overwhelmed, too.  Oh, wait.
I'm sorry. Corey is a senior, isn't he?  Anyway, I want you to know that my
wife and I think it's truly admirable of you and your husband to come out
tonight to support the kids - despite the difficult circumstances you're
dealing with.  I can only imagine how you must have felt when my son had to
take over when Corey ran your car - well, had the accident.  And, watching
Joel get a standing ovation tonight!  Well, I can see how difficult that
was for you.  But, know that we are praying for you and your family.
Please keep us posted on Corey's progress, and let us know if there is
anything – anything at all – we can do to help."

My mother had not gotten out of line.  She just stood there listening, with
a polite smile.  She obviously enjoyed how my father had handled
Mrs. Anderson.

I jumped in and tried to say something nice, just as Ben had asked.
"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson," I said.  "Corey is a good friend, and we all want
him to get well and come back to school.  Please let us know when he can
have visitors.  We miss him."

The Andersons thanked me in a perfunctory manner, and then they hurried
toward the exit door.  My Dad went back to his place in line, and
Mrs. Webber walked up to me.  She leaned in and spoke as quietly as she
could.  "Remind me never to criticize you in front of your father," she
said.  Then, Mrs. Webber gave me a hug and whispered in my ear.  "If David
were here, I know just what he'd say to you: Way to go, Tiger!"  That was
exactly what David had said to me when I exposed our rival school as
cheaters, and we won the debate championship.

After Mrs. Weber had left, my parents stepped forward to talk to me.  From
their comments, it was obvious they thought that - other than the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I was the best thing that had ever existed.

I was so embarrassed.

When I went backstage to take my makeup off and change out of my costume,
Ben asked me to follow him.  He led the way to a remote part of the
auditorium which was mostly out of view.  Ben took me in his arms and
hugged me tightly.  "Thank you, Joel," he said.  "You saved my show."

Our last show on Sunday afternoon was best of all of our performances.
But, there was a feeling of sadness among the cast members.  We all knew
this was our last show.  And, we knew that after taking down the lights and
putting everything away on Monday, the production would be over.

Despite the sadness, everyone seemed to rise to the challenge of making our
last show as good as it could be.  I thought the performance was
practically flawless.  When the show ended, and the Curtain Call started,
the audience immediately stood up as they clapped.  I was pleased that no
specific cast member was singled out, and everyone was being recognized
equally.  We had become a team, and everybody had done their part well.

The Lobby Call was bittersweet.  I guess everyone likes hearing nice things
being said about them, and we certainly enjoyed our share that afternoon.
But, many of us were also melancholy.  Tomorrow, after Strike, The
Messenger would only be a memory.

When the Lobby Call ended, I started to tear up.  The play had been a long
journey for me -one which had included many emotions – reluctance,
humiliation, anger, excitement, shock, and ultimately, resolution and
enjoyment.  And, I had temporarily been able to put aside some of my pain
from David moving away.

Ben saw how emotional I was, and he walked over to me and gave me a hug –
in front of everyone.  Part of me wanted to melt into his arms.  But of
course, I didn't.

"Cheer up, Sexy Boy," he whispered to me.  "Let's go enjoy the cast party."



Readers: Your comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated.  Send them
to joelyoung120@hotmail.com