Hurting
It’s not everyday you get the lead in the school play, but when I was a senior in high school, our drama club was putting on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and I got the part of Joseph! Oh my God I was ecstatic when I found out. The first thing I did when I got home was tell my parents about it. When I got there, they were sitting on the couch, eyes glazed over and mumbling back and forth to each other about how rough their days had been. By the looks of things, they got started early with their “relaxing” methods. A bottle of Vicodin was tipped over on the coffee table, and right next to it was an empty bottle of wine and two wine glasses with just a splash left in each. I excitedly told them about the play and that I had the lead role. The news and my excitement seemed to bring them out of their haze, and they both got off the couch and hugged and congratulated me. They even promised they would be there on opening night.
I kept reminding them every week about when the show was. I even wrote it on the dry erase board on the refrigerator. My theater director even reserved two seats for them in the front row and it was a sold-out crowd!
Opening night came and I called home to make sure they had already left. I got the answering machine. I figured that meant they had already left, so I finished getting ready and prepared to go on stage. I peeked out from behind the curtain, but the lights were so bright, I couldn’t see the audience. When the curtain finally opened and it was my time to go on, I eyed the front row and noticed two empty seats. My heart broke. I tried to convince myself they were in the audience somewhere and they didn’t realize they had front row seats reserved. After the performance, I went out into the crowd and everyone was congratulating me on a job well done. I looked around, and didn’t see them anywhere.
When I got home, they were laying on the couch watching TV. I couldn’t even look them in the eye when I walked in. It hurt too much. I was walking to my room and heard my mom ask where I had been. I told her it was opening night and she said “that was tonight? I thought it was next weekend.” I didn’t wait for an apology, because I knew it would be the same empty “I’m sorry” that it always was.
Nick, 20, Lakewood