After we scrubbed our make-up off and hugged the audience, Josh and I went back on stage. We just stood there for a moment-taking in the empty theatre full of memories. Reciting old roles, and recent one's. Holding back tears captured by smiles. Learning with every single breath that we would never be back on that stage, again. Realizing our run was over. Hurting over that and also being amazed by it. Seeing each other grow. Knowing we'll never be the same. The memory will be engraved into my mind forever.
Mr.Ryan caught me after the show and I gave him a rose. He pulled me in and said "You've always been a rock, baby. So strong in yourself, and you always do what I ask and never fail me." It always gets me to see a grown man cry. Especially when this grown man has helped you to become the person you are. I told him I loved him with tears running down my face-and I remember finally believing, for once in my life, that I'd made someone proud.
I hadn't had a particular reason for this kind of anguish. It hit me all at once and I felt betrayed. One little slip of a secret and my whole world seemed to fall apart. She followed me outside and I couldn't keep my balance-but I remember this moment. I avoided hearing all of the words and making eye contact because I didn't want to cry over a lie. I didn't want to cry at all. But the words finally sunk in and the lie seemed unimportant. She told me she loved me and wrapped her arms around me. The honesty didn't prevail until she kissed me on the cheek-and then I somehow understood that believing in people is more important than we know.
A stupid innocent kiss that led to another, and another, and oh crap...another. Though barely remembered, it felt good to be wanted by him, even if for only a moment. And for those moments wedged together...I felt like there could be something more to me than just a tie-dyed shirt and sandals made of rope.
She said she didn't even want to look at me...moments like those make me believe in my heart that her picture of me fills with hate in her head. Makes me think that all those years of protection were spent unreasonably. But in those moments I always think of a certain other moment. I look at my note on the wall from her that reads "I'll always be here for you" written in jelly pen on a piece of torn out diary paper. She gave it to me for protection. The moment gets sucked in by that other, stronger, one.
Those moments...they're the one's that matter.
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