Forty-five agonizing minutes have passed before I spot the scruffy little boy Lily and I had seen walking home from school. On stage, he’s a prince among his fellow students, commanding the stage as he never would the classroom.
Doubtless, the ability to play a part like that will be down to life experience. For kids like him, if they could pretend they were anything other than what they were, it could save a world of pain.
I knew, having spent enough time as a kid, acting like I didn’t care that my clothes were threadbare and my shoes had holes in them. Shrug it off with enough bravado, and you can sell it to anyone, especially the bullies.
Thankfully, that hadn’t been an issue after I’d shot up in middle school, towering over those who’d made elementary school pure hell for me. It was something that also allowed me to save my younger brothers from the same fate.
There isn’t a chance anyone would be stupid enough to pick a fight with them these days, with them just as tall and broad as I am.
And speaking of pure hell, another fifteen agonizing minutes pass before the entire ‘cast’, AKA every kid in the school, appears on stage for a standing ovation.
While every parent present is proud, we’re also delirious to be standing after an hour in what had proven to be damned uncomfortable chairs. It also gives me a chance to wave wildly, allowing Zoe to spot me. There are pluses to being as tall as I am.
Next to me, Lily is doing her best to pass the small bouquet in front of me, to my mom, but my mom just as forcefully pushes it back with a hissed, “No, Lily, it’s only right you take it up to her.”
Next thing I know, Lily is trying to foist it onto me. There isn’t a chance a great, lumbering fool like me is traipsing up on stage as other parents are. I smile as encouragingly as I can, before adding, “Off you go. She’ll love seeing you.”
And she will, with my daughter asking after Lily every night before bed. If anything, Zoe is even more besotted with Lily after many an outing for the three of us.
A huff of annoyance, and Lily eases her way out of our row and into the center aisle. On watching her walking up to the stage clasping that small bouquet, my heart sticks in my throat.
It must be an emotion my mom shares, with her grabbing onto my arm as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. A glance down and I’m surprised to see her eyes are wet with tears. My mom never cries, like ever.
Well, she did the day dad left, but not once since then.
Up on stage, Lily reverently presents the bouquet to Zoe, before bending and kissing my daughter on both cheeks. Cheeks that are pink with delight that Lily has given her the one thing me or my mum can’t.
And that’s a mother figure who matches the others on stage. A second later, and Zoe throws her arms around Lily, doing a great job of crushing the flowers.
Lily returns the embrace with as much fervor, leading Zoe off the stage and down the aisle toward us. To the casual observer, they could be mistaken for mother and daughter, with Zoe a mini-me to Lily.
By now my smile muscles are hurting, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
After I scoop Zoe up, flowers and all, she wraps her arms tight around my neck. “I was worried you’d forgotten.”
This has me leaning back enough that I can look her in the eye. “And miss the performance of a life-time? Heck no!” My daughter knows me well enough to burst out laughing at this declaration.
We’re out front of the hall when she whispers, “I was terrible, wasn’t I?” Any worries about my daughter’s soul being crushed disappear when she giggles.
I’m laughing, too, when I comment, “You were appalling!”
Lily and my mom are quick to catch on with Lily declaring it to be, “The worst play I’ve ever seen”.
There’s barely a beat before Zoe, my mom and I reply in concert, “Ah, but you have seen it!” The captain of the Black Pearl would have been proud of us.
On seeing a small boy dragged by us, our mood changes as we watch his father wrench on the threadbare collar of his son’s shirt to control him.
“What an effing waste of time. Don’t know why I had to go to that freak show.” The asshat follows this up by shoving his son forward, to the point the boy comes close to losing his footing.
Something in me snaps, a deep anger bubbling to the surface. No kid deserves to be treated like that. Next to me, Lily and my mom share my fury, their bodies tense and ready for action.
Without hesitation, I slide Zoe to the ground and take off after the guy, my meaty hand landing on his shoulder. Much as I want to teach him a lesson, I need to test the waters first. “Your kid. He’s really got some skills there,” I say through gritted teeth.
The guy blinks in my direction for a second, and I can see the coldness in his eyes. “Hah, you mean Lucas? Like hell he’s mine. Only reason me and the missus took him on was for the money. Kid’s an effing waste of space,” he sneers.
My anger surges in response to his callous words, but short of making a scene, I can’t do anything else, although Lily soon steps in. With a fierce determination, she walks over to the young boy and tells him he did fantastic.
Her words are like a ray of sunshine in the darkness, and the boy’s eyes light up briefly before flickering out.
