THIRTY-SEVEN
Brittany bounced down the front steps and skipped to the end of her driveway to meet Kurt as he pulled up in his black Navigator. He popped the lock, and she leapt inside the air conditioned car and threw her arms around Kurt.
"I'm so glad you called me, Kurt. I've missed your magic so much."
Kurt struggled to maneuver into a hug while still wearing his seatbelt. The doctors had declared his ribs healed three days ago, but he hadn't put that to the test yet. Brittany's painless squeezing did, though.
"I've missed you too, Britt. So … are you ready for a day of shopping?"
"You know it!"
Kurt pulled away from the curb while Brittany tuned the radio to her favorite station. A new Lady Gaga song that Kurt had already downloaded and memorized began playing on the heels of a Ke$ha song he didn't particularly like.
He hadn't tried driving until today. After so long without vehicles, he'd grown accustomed to walking everywhere. The North Hills mall was easily within walking distance to him now, though he never would have considered it before. He planned on shopping all day, though, and a backseat and trunk to store his bags would make the day go much smoother.
"Can I ask you something, Kurt? I'm really glad you called and asked me to have a girl's day with you, but … why did you call me? You haven't asked to hang out with me since that time we made out in your room."
"Remember what I said about that?"
"That I'm never supposed to mention it again. I'm sorry."
She looked genuinely distressed that she'd brought it up, so Kurt patted her hand consolingly.
"I know Rachel told everyone what I said to her when she found me in New York. I wasn't lying, Britt, and I figured if anyone would believe me, it would be you."
"Of course I believe you. I told everyone after Rachel came back to the hotel that there was nothing wrong with you. I told them, like, six times. They just ignored me like they always do."
"Wait. So you do believe me?" Kurt asked.
He brought the car to a stop at a red light and looked over at Brittany who nodded innocently.
"Well, yeah. You're gay, and every gay person has a closet. Really magical gay people, like you, have extra special closets that are connected to Narnia. When you go there, it's because you have something super important to do to save Narnia, and once you've done that, you get to come back. I wanted to call and tell you I believe you, but Santana said I couldn't. She said coming back from Narnia was really hard for you, and I had to give you time to adjust to being back in our world. Is it because there's no magic here?"
For once, Kurt didn't roll his eyes and laugh under his breath at Brittany. He blinked away his tears when the light turned green.
"Thank you, Britt. Coming back is hard for me because I left behind someone that I love, and I'm not sure if I'll get to see him again."
"Well, if he's gay and magical too, then he'll get to come home as soon as he's finished saving Narnia."
"That's what I'm hoping for."
Kurt and Brittany stayed out shopping the whole day. Since Kurt had left his iPhone in Here, he had to buy a new one and reconnect his number to it. He'd lost all of his contacts, but made a start over lunch by copying Brittany's list. He added Lord Tubbington at her insistence. He also bought a new iPod and dock since he'd broken his. The rest of his purchases, however, were clothes, shoes, and accessories.
"You need an orange scarf," Brittany said.
"Orange is an autumn and winter …." He trailed off. Brittany had arranged all the scarves he'd picked out so far over her arm in a rainbow with a space for an orange scarf. "Then we'll just have to go to another store."
Spending the day with Brittany wasn't without its hiccups. She dragged him into Toys 'R Us and bought him a pink unicorn horn headband. Her reason for dubbing him a unicorn was very sweet and flattering, but he did not want to be in possession of a unicorn horn, especially not one with a pink mane.
It took twenty minutes to sort out Brittany's bags from Kurt's when he dropped her off just after dinner time.
"Are you sure you can't hang out tonight, Kurt? Santana is coming over, and we're going to use up the rest of the sparklers and bottle rockets."
Kurt shook his head. "I'm not really in a celebratory mood."
"I thought boys did that like five times a day."
"Thank you for the invite, though."
Kurt spent the rest of the night sorting through his new clothes and cutting off tags. He made piles of clothes to wash and clothes to have dry cleaned, but there was surprisingly little joy in it. He missed sketching designs and cutting fabric and the hum of his high-end sewing machine.
He didn't have time to make his own wardrobe anymore, however. Over the past week while he waited for his ribs to heal fully, Kurt had made a plan for the summer, and it didn't grant much leisure time. He had, for all intents and purposes, been in drama school for seven months. That life was chaotic and demanding, but Kurt wanted no other life than the life of a working performer. He had improved so much since last November. There was no sense slacking off now.
o o o
Come Monday morning, Kurt was very glad he'd eased himself into seeing his friends by spending the day with Brittany. The bell over the door of Wright Dance Academy still jangled when Mike Chang appeared from a room behind the counter. Kurt froze on the threshold and Mike in the doorway, and then the dancer rushed around the reception desk and pulled Kurt into a hug. The sudden and unexpected show of affection startled Kurt, and Mike pulled away before he had decided what to do with his hands.
"It is so good to see you, Kurt," Mike said earnestly. "I've – we've all – been so worried about you."
Kurt knew he was meant to say something back along the lines of a 'thank you' and 'I'm just fine now,' but he'd been through that so many times already. He skipped past the pleasantries, but Mike didn't seem to mind or even notice.
"Do you teach classes here?"
"Beginning ballet and tap. So I guess that means you're not here to see me?" He grinned at Kurt's guilty expression. "It's okay, Kurt. Brittany told us all on Facebook that you're not de-magicked yet and we have to be patient."
Kurt groaned. He really needed to sign onto Facebook again soon.
"I'm actually here to sign up for a class or two."
A wide grin spread over Mike's face. He grabbed the signup form from the registration desk and began filling it out. Kurt read Mike's writing upside down.
"That's great, Kurt! Glee club could really use some attention to dancing. No offense, but you sort of only have –"
"One move. Yes, I've been over that with my ballet teacher. My old ballet teacher," Kurt corrected. "I'd like three sessions of beginning ballet, and two sessions of tap each week. The ballet can be in a class, but I learn tap better in private lessons."
Mike arched his eyebrows. "Five sessions a week?"
"Hmm. You're right. One session of jazz too."
"Wow." Mike let the clipboard fall to his side. "That's going to cost you a lot, Kurt."
Kurt was still adjusting to the idea of paying for things in real money instead of paper slips. Shopping with Brittany hadn't been any different than going to the warehouse; he'd charged his dad's credit card and got whatever he wanted without looking at price tags. Now that he thought about it, he was probably due for a lecture.
"It's worth it," Kurt said uncertainly.
He chewed his bottom lip. He also needed voice lessons and acting classes, plus all the equipment he'd need for these classes and to practice with.
"I'll be your private teacher," Mike said suddenly. "Free of charge."
"What? No, Mike – "
"We're friends, Kurt, and friends help each other out without strings attached. A perk of working here is that I get to use the empty dance studios. They're always free during lunch, so we can meet here every day at noon."
"You don't have to do this because of what happened. I don't need pity dance lessons. I can work at my dad's tire shop to find the money."
"If you want to pay me back … go see Tina. She really misses you, Kurt. She doesn't understand what she did wrong that you wanted to see Brittany before her. She's not going to do what Rachel did. She wouldn't have ever done that."
Kurt averted his eyes quickly and didn't answer for several minutes. How did he explain how degrading it felt knowing his friends thought he had a genuine mental illness that made him dream up an Oz-like fantasy world to escape his problems?
"Okay. I'll see Tina … and Mercedes. But if either of them tricks me into seeing Rachel, I'll never speak to either of them ever again."
"Fair enough. So I'll see you here tomorrow?"
"The day after. I have an audition tomorrow afternoon, and the director owns a drycleaners so he can only hold auditions during lunch."
o o o
"What's up with you, kid?" Burt asked.
Kurt had been bouncing in his chair ever since they sat down to Friday night dinner. Finn appeared mildly curious too, but more concerned with getting his second chicken parmesan breast out of the casserole dish. Carole smiled encouragingly.
"I have some very exciting news to share. I've been cast in a musical!" he cried. "It's just at the community playhouse, but it's the role of Jack in Into the Woods. It's a really big role, and one which my boyishly innocent features are just perfect for."
He wasn't surprised they weren't familiar with Into the Woods, but they made up for their tragic lack of Sondheim knowledge with exuberant congratulations. Even Finn set his fork down long enough to slap Kurt on the back: his version of a hug.
"Why didn't you tell us you were auditioning?" Carole asked. "We could have been there for moral support."
"I didn't want to jinx myself. It was my first real audition. It's not my first credit, but for my other performances we just divided up roles based on singing parts or to rotate leads."
"So tell us about this musical," Burt said. "This character, Jack, what's he like?"
"Well, it's the only tenor role in the entire musical. The rest of the male roles are for baritones."
"Wait. Tenor? I thought you sang soprano or –"
"Countertenor," Kurt informed his father.
"So why aren't you singing a countertenor part?" Burt asked.
"Because there isn't one in Into the Woods. There isn't one in most musicals, actually. That's why Cillian was giving me vocal lessons to strengthen my lower register. I've always been able to sing high tenor parts, but I just haven't."
Burt frowned deeply at his chicken breast, which Kurt was happy to see he had not smothering in marinara sauce, and vegetable blend. The longer his silence stretched, the more irritated it made Kurt. He'd finally found a moment of joy, and the changing atmosphere around the table dampened it considerably.
"I guess I don't understand why you're settling for something you can do instead of showing off what makes you unique. I didn't march down to your school and fight for your right to sing girls' songs just so you could decide you don't want to do that after all."
Kurt pursed his lips. "Of course I want to sing countertenor, but there aren't roles for it in musical theater, and I'm not interested in opera. I'm doing what every successful actor has done; I'm molding myself to fit the character. Jack is an amazing part, and one of the major male roles I'm perfect to play. I won't let you ruin this for me because … I don't even know why you're being like this."
"Hey," Burt said, holding up his palms. "I think it's great that you're improving your craft, and versatility is important. I am going to be the proudest person in the audience opening night and every night you sing like a dude. But it sounds like you're giving up on ever belting out a high note again. Now, you told us just a few weeks ago that you came back to us because you realized you're meant to be a creative leader. What the hell kind of leader sits back and accepts that he can't let all of his talents shine?"
Kurt shook his head. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that if there aren't roles for guys like you in musical theater, it's your responsibility as a leader to create some for yourself and everyone who comes after you. If you're really serious about being a visionary, Kurt, you have to leave a legacy."
Legacy. The word stuck in Kurt's head for the next week until he decided what he wanted that legacy to be and sat down at his computer.
SCENE ONE.
(A flower shop in New York, November 1934. There is a discount sign in the storefront window; it is the height of the Great Depression and no one is spending on luxuries. The place is empty except for CONNOR, a teenage boy in tattered clothes that used to be fashionable. LIAM, the son of the shop owner, enters carrying a basket of flowers. They share a lingering look.)
CONNOR
Excuse me. Can you tell me what are good flowers for welcoming a friend to America?
