I shout, “You’re not supposed to be with her!”

He rushes up. Gets in my face. “We’re in love. Why can’t you get that?”

“Why can’t you get that Mom and Dad will never allow it. The town will revolt.”

“Michael, please keep this secret. I need you! Your help.”

The angels have broken out in tortured operatic song, dancers enacting their anguish. Lights brighten on us to signal dawn’s untimely approach. Our first audience is on the edge of their seats, a crackle of tension as they hold their breaths for my answer.

“You’re on your own.”

That’s not the line.

Asher blinks at me, improvises, “Don’t say that, Michael. You’re the only one who understands me for me. I don’t care about religion. I care about love. I need her. Can you imagine a life without her?”

No.

I can’t.

He grabs my arms, and I vomit the real line, “If they ask, I don’t know where you are.”

“That’s all I need! Some time to convince her to leave this place, run away with me.”

To New York.

Where I’ll have to watch you.

Falling in love.

Fuck that.

“I’ll do my best, Donovan, but I don’t approve! I can’t. It’s not right. This isn’t how love is supposed to be, hiding and lying. It’s not what God would want.”

“God wants us together. It’s the human beings who want us apart.”

He added that line, and I hate it. What an asshole.

I’m supposed to hug him here. Instead, my disgust waves him away as I march off the stage. But not before I see Samantha in costume, a baby-blue gown with matching ballet shoes not making a sound as she tip-toes onstage in search of her lover.

In real life.

And in fake.

Dammit! Keep walking, Logan!

Don’t stand offstage and watch them from the sidelines. You’re not on again until after intermission.

Go to your room.

Don’t torture yourself.

I’m not that strong.

Because look at how her brown eyes are clear, frightened, but filled with hope. It’s as if she didn’t mean to come this way, had tried to deny she wanted him, but now here she is with no control over what happens next.

Donavan doesn’t see her approach. She leaps in the air at the sight of him. This brings him to life. I didn’t witness them rehearsing last night after dress rehearsal crumbled. We were sent home so they could work. It never occurred to me that it meant they’d be alone.

It’s devastating how perfectly they dance together. They float on the song of angels standing in the background. Samantha is breathtaking as she gives herself to his lead, the years of our training granting her feet not just grace but wings. She was made for this role. One night and she has surpassed weeks of Marion’s forced charisma.

I am shattered, yet can’t stop watching. One second I’m seeing her at eleven-years-old performing a jazz routine in an orange costume with tassels, her hair in blonde braids. The next I’m hypnotized by the talent she’s become.

He does something new with Sam, unrehearsed with Marion. As he brings her close, he lightly brushes her lips with his. She closes her eyes, keeps them closed when he leaves her there, alone.

The audience sighs as Sam’s arms float out. She bends as if giving in to whatever will come of her. The lights go dark, and I bow my head.