A Note on Obscurity ♪
"Between birth and death lies desire,
Desire for life, for love, for everything good.
And this is the source of all suffering."
-- Outcast Consensus 17
Why Existence?
From behind the thin, veil like curtain of the stage a girl in her early twenties stood almost motionless, watching the people file in. Black hair reflected blue stage light and fell straight to the small of her back, harshly contrasting with the clean, crisp white shirt. Round orbs of black watched avidly as the seats were scraped against the floor, the rows filling and overflowing steadily like veins filling with life blood. The sound of murmuring voices occasionally punctuated by the deep or nasal laughter of various patrons acted as a chorus to the ever swirling movement of colors. Olive fingers betrayed her indifference; twisting and fretting, coming together for a moment before going to her thighs to wipe away moisture on black material. Twitching slightly the hands stilled at her sides when her ears were greeted with the sharp clipping heels of the singing professor.
Still unwaveringly silent the young woman watched the auditorium lighting reflect off one old man's glasses, his brown and guacamole argyle sweater garnering several snickers from the row behind him. A low sigh came from behind her and she braced under the unsure hand that left her should untouched except for a fleeting shadow.
"Are you well, Ms. VanPelt?" A subtle nod was her only answer. "The performance is required. You do not have to do this tonight. I think though, that it would be best." The singing instructor's voice softened, eliciting a short glance from the object of her scrutiny.
"I know, professor." Her voice was quiet but tight, her hands busying themselves again on her skirt.
Another sigh. "It's been a year." To the younger woman's ears it sounded almost exasperated. Desperate perhaps.
Samantha set her jaw. "I promised him. The day before he died." Her almost furious voice stopped, her throat visibly constricting. A moment later she took a deep breath through her mouth and started again." Over the phone, he said he was coming." She turned toward her instructor, her bottomless eyes burning. "He was coming to hear me. For the first time on stage. If he cannot hear me, then no one will!" Her voice ended in almost desperation. Turning away she again resumed her watch from behind the curtain, her body taunt like a string about to snap.
"Samantha, you must have a performance in order to pass this class. No one, not you, nor God himself is exempt from this." All compassion had fled from her voice, leaving the strict professional tone.
"You'll have your performance, professor." The girl didn't turn or flinch away; standing motionless with her back toward her professor, her shiny black hair moving slightly from a fan set up on stage.
"I had better, I would hate to see one of the greatest talents ever seen walk into this school walk out into obscurity." The woman's tone was clipped, her words followed quickly by retreated steps and the swish of her gold dress. Her voice carried back to the girl while the steps continued their sharp clip clip clip. "You are the third act, I suggest you get prepared. Laura is waiting for you in the dressing room."
The soft, whisper of an answer was her only response. "Oui, madame."
Backstage was a tornado of activity, everyone moving with specific things to do, say, and places to go. Shoving through a tightly packed hallway of dancers Samantha pushed through the halfway open door to the costuming department, her sensitive ears assaulted with a torrent of rock. Weaving in and around several tall racks of clothing she could see the familiar violet knot of hair bobbing up and down. "Marco?" She called uncertainly when the purple nest of hair vanished from her line of sight.
"Polo!" Following the husky voice she found the thirty-something woman bouncing around the blaring tunes of Aerosmith, shoving pins and spare needles into a long strip of magenta satin that was wrapped around a rather poor looking mannequin. "Sam!" She grinned before and after belting out the disjointed lyrics to 'Don't Wanna Miss A Thing', her breathy voice making an odd combination with Steven Tyler's…distinctive voice.
"Professor Death-be-to-All said you were waiting for me?"
Laura grinned and nodded, pushing the dummy into a corner and motioned for Samantha to step up onto the small box.
"What was that dress for?" The olive skinned girl questioned while pulling off her crisp white shirt and replacing it with the costume the older woman handed her.
"Kim, who else would wear a color that…pink?" Both smiled and shook their heads. "I was just helping Shannon, her design concept is excellent, if a little modern for my taste. If she isn't back soon to finish it- I'll have to finish the hem myself. Kim's wearing it for her performance tonight." Finished with slipping on the dress Sam lifted her hair and sucked in a deep breath of air, allowing Laura to fasten each hook and button that trailed along her spine.
The dress was extravagant as far as Sam was concerned. It was fashioned after those made in the eighteenth century Europe, lace and satin everywhere, even a corset had been deigned necessary by Laura. The color was a magnificent mid range teal that worked wonders with Sam's complexion and hair. Glaring darkly at the head of costuming Sam rolled her shoulders and took several steadying breaths. "It's a wonder women are even in existence if these dresses were that popular back then!"
Laura laughed, changing the CD in her stereo to something that looked suspiciously like Rolling Stones. The suspicion was immediately confirmed when music blared to life, nearly bursting both women's eardrums. "See later, Laura!"
"Good luck, Sam!"
Shutting the door with a sigh Sam shook her self to jumble the rock music out her head before continuing on to the make up and hair styling department.
"Sam! Hey, Sam! Wait up!" Breathlessly a freckled brunette stopped just short of colliding with Sam, her hazel eyes sparkling, "Did I hear I right? Are you really goin' to perform tonight?" Shannon sounded so excited Sam couldn't help but smile slightly.
"Yes, you heard it right. Third act, after Kim finishes her duet with what's his name."
"Chris the Irish tenor," Shannon supplied, "And that is so bloody exciting! Imagine, if you are one of the three final contestants you could go to Paris! We could go shopping, see the Eiffel Tower, go shopping!" Shannon's grin widened, her British accent thick in her enthusiasm.
"Well, what are you going to sing?"
"Something dark and romantic I hope!" Sam turned at the familiar voices, her eyes wide.
"Sabrina! Beth! When did you get here? How are you here? Are you alone? Why are you here?"
"Hold up with the Spanish Inquisition already! My band is performing later on. This is a competition after all. We came on the Greyhound, and we got here about ten minutes ago." Sabrina's wildly curly hair came alive with each word, her white teeth revealed with a perfect smile.
"And I came with the NYC Orchestra, I have a piano solo later, after our entire group performs something from Handel. Can't remember the name." Beth's green eyes narrowed in thought, her right hand rising to probe her chin thoughtfully.
"I haven't seen you in ages." Samantha took in Sabrina's voluminous dark curls, and freckled nose.
"Who's you friend?" Sabrina asked, glancing over Sam's shoulder.
Suddenly remembering her silent, willowy friend Shannon, she smacked her head. "Oh, jeez where are my manners?"
"Manners? When did you get manners?" Sabrina cut in snottily, her eyes crinkled with mock confusion. Beth snickered before waving good bye as she rushed off after someone carrying a violin case yelling, "Stop! Rachel! Wrong way!"
Samantha adopted a sagely voice, "Ah, 'twas the cheese, my good man. The cheese instilled within me special powers of manners!" The two girls shared a brief laugh before Sam introduced her two friends, Shannon leaving shortly after when someone called out that mistress of costumes demanded her presence. She was, after all, in training to take over the position as soon as Laura retired.
"My, how time does fly! I can't believe it's been almost six, seven years? Since camp." Samantha led her long lost friend through corridor after corridor until they found the makeup department.
"I know, you've changed so much! Your hair is so long. And…did you even grow since ninth grade?" Sabrina took a step back to estimate her height. "What are you? Like 5' 5?"
"Ha. Ha." Sam laughed, the sarcasm laid on thick. Taking a seat on a twirling chair, waiting for Erika to gather the needed supplies to doll her up, Samantha drew her knees up to her chest and used a hand on the counter to twist the chair around. "I'm 5'5 and 1/2, so ha! Where is your band? Are you gonna sing 'Love for the Lost' or 'Wilderness Girl?' I really liked the copy you sent me of Love for the Lost."
"Oh they're somewhere, Kevin is probably trying to find the kitchen. He's our new drummer. And we've got a new song we want to perform. By the way, what are you singing? You never said." Sabrina found a fold out chair and crossed one leg over the other in a reclining posture, her dark curls splashing over her shoulders.
"The Emigrant's Daughter."
"What's that?"
"An Irish song, kind of sad. 'Bout a girl that was going with her family to America way back when, and she caught a fever and died."
"Wow, something only you could have found I'm sure. Well, I've gotta go- make sure my bass is in tune. Hopefully Kevin hasn't managed to lose his drum sticks again!"
"Later, dude!"
It was several minutes later when the makeup artist arrived. Though younger than Sam by three years Erika had proven herself at a young age to be quite adept at all things artistic, makeup application being chief among them. "That dress is gorgeous, Sam. I suppose it's true then, you're going to sing?" Erika's high, feminine voice stated rather than asked but Sam answered her anyway.
"Yeah." Sweeping her hair out of the way for Erika to fasten the apron around her neck Sam noticed a gold band around her friend's left ring finger. "Erika! Are you engaged!"
The petite girl blushed, her large brown eyes hidden behind lowered lashes. "Tom asked me yesterday afternoon, in the park."
Sam twirled the chair around, and grasped the other girl's hands and squeezed, "Congratulations, when are you announcing?"
"Tomorrow, at the dinner for cast and crew. I'm so nervous!"
"Oh, don't be! You're a lucky girl, Tom is so funny, and handsome. Have you set a date?" Sam leaned in excitedly. Tonight was full of surprises!
"Early June, my aunt Laura in the costume department is designing my dress with me. I'm so excited." While she talked Erika had Sam return to her seat and began smoothing a lotion over her skin. "It will be strapless, off the shoulder made completely of satin and silk. It's going to flow like water, pooling at the feet, the veil coming around the head, twisting at the neck. I've decided I don't want to carry a whole bouquet, so instead I'm going to carry a white rose with a long stem. Tom is going to carry a rose as well. We're thinking about doing something significant like putting them together, you know?" She stopped her work momentarily to gesture with her hands. "The whole wedding will be in white, but not with lilies, oh no! I think roses, but then, I may decide on red roses. I love roses so much. Hmmm. Maybe lavender, it would add color! Perhaps some variation would be good."
Sam made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, her eyes closed to allow Erika to apply some shadow, liner, and then after a few more minutes of talking, some mascara. Finally, when all was said and done Sam thanked Erika and congratulated her again before leaving; skirts swishing softly behind her.
"Sam! Professor says you're on in twenty minutes," Leah, the set designer gave her a fleeting smile before catching site of some stage hands goofing around. "HEY! GET BACK TO WORK!"
Several minutes later Sam found herself walking toward the stage, her stomach in knots, and her hair bouncing around her face in curls. Stopping just off of stage she watched the leading soprano finish her duet. Kim's dirty blonde hair was elegantly put up, long strands of dark gold floating to her shoulders in soft curls, a piece rapped around her head like a crown. The dress she wore was the same she had seen in the dressing room, her shoulders entrapped in a long, silk shawl. Her counterpart, a very tall, dark haired man with light brown eyes that reminded one of caramel or lightly tanned leather was sitting at the piano wearing a pin stripe suite, the hat sitting prettily on the piano.
"Anywhere you go let me go too…
Love me that's all I ask of you…"
The applause that followed was astounding, deafening even. Kim did a dainty curtsey, blushing scarlet at the cat calls coming from the same row behind the old man with the argyle sweater. After a few moments the sound died down and both singers evacuated the stage all smiles and, in Kim's case, giggles. Mr. Dubert walked to the center of the stage and lifted the black microphone to his lips. Sam fervently prayed that he would get a frog in his throat or somehow go into cardiac arrest. Then she wouldn't have to do this. Swallowing convulsively she felt adrenaline course through her body branching out from her stomach to the very tips of her fingers. For once Dubert's mumbling drone did not hold her attention as it did, on the occasion, in class; it seemed to slip as easily into her ears as it did out.
"…Ms. VanPelt with The Emigrant's Daughter." Some polite clapping…"Ms. VanPelt?"
Started out of her reverie Sam quickly took her place at the center of the stage, nodding slightly to the woman at the piano to begin. Clasping the microphone desperately she was loathe to replace it on the microphone stand. Once there she grasped both hands in front, her back ramrod straight. Then the piano began.
Oh please ne'er forget me though waves now lie o'er me
I was once young and pretty and my spirit ran free
But destiny tore me from country and loved ones
And from the new land I was never to see…
Finished with her solo Sam gently unclenched her hands and let her gaze and senses focus on her surroundings. Somewhat surprisingly the sound of loud applauding and cheering met her ears and she felt a smile begin to tug at her lips insistently. Feeling light headed and more than a little relieved the whole ordeal was over she nodded her head slightly and walked off stage, collapsing into a chair by the far wall in relief. It's done. Relief swelled within her chest as a sense of completion washed over her slowly. Her grin wilted slightly into one more melancholy before she grinned once more as she was mobbed by several of her friends.
Later that night at her flat Sam flopped down on a couch in relief. She'd stayed well past midnight with the rest of the crew to celebrate the success of the national competition's first run. Too tired to walk home she had caught a ride in the rental car Sabrina and her band mates had found earlier that afternoon. After changing from her costume the Alaskan native had French braided her still curled hair and dressed in a pair of thin, grey sweatpants and faded green tee shirt. Watching the rest of the performance from the catwalks rafters she listened to both Beth's solo as well as the new song 'Forever' by Sabrina's band.
Curled up on her couch she was already drifting to sleep when a loud bump startled her. Her neighbourhood, while not terribly dangerous, was also not the ideal place to live. Her yellow, stained, peeling wall paper had been covered with posters and photographs; the floor likewise disguised with rugs, mats, and in some places, fake hardwood planks. The bump sounded once again, and after a several minutes of stumbling in the dark she snatched her roommate's baseball bat and reached for the door. Swinging it open she poked her head out…nothing was there. Puzzled, Sam's grip on the baseball bat went lax and she stepped back to close the door when she noticed a card tied to the door knob. Glancing around the still deserted hallway she grabbed the envelope and shut the door, locking it securely. Donning a pair of latex gloves from the kitchen she grabbed a knife and sliced the letter open, dumping the contents on the table. A letter.
Opening it she rolled her eyes, Well, that was anticlimactic. Fixing herself a cup of coffee she cleared off a seat and sat down to read.
Sam,
Sorry if I creeped you out with all the bumping against the wall. I've got my suitcases packed and they're really heavy. My dad's died and I need to get down there fast. I'll be gone for about a month, maybe more. I've already called Mark down at the theatre so no worries about me loosing my job. Don't worry about the rent; I took care of all of it- I owed you money anyway. Sorry I had to run out on you, I was next door talking with Luke about watching over you while I was gone. Stop simmering, he's really nice. You should think about dating. Ah, ok, I best stop here before I begin crying or anything. Or ranting.Whatever. Stop being so antisocial, not healthy.
Take care, lots of love, don't forget to eat while I'm away. No, I don't think you're seven! Love,
Your roomy- Liz.
Refolding the letter Sam took a thoughtful sip of coffee. She had never been particularly taken with her own family but Liz was practically obsessed with hers. Pictures of her family were hung everywhere in her room and in the living room. Everywhere. Sam had comparatively less photographs hanging about or in frames; the ones she did have were for the most part prints of surrealistic or impressionistic art, or models, and plenty of Broadway posters.
Leaving the letter open on the counter top she swung around on her kitchen stool, fingering the tale of her braid absently. She had met Liz's father only twice before and had been instantly taken with him; from his quirky humor and funny expressions he had been the father she never had. Sighing heavily at the sudden loss she dressed quickly in a short charcoal skirt, black short sleeve shirt, and thick soled army boots. Moving about the apartment, her incompletely laced boots clunking loudly in the oppressive silence, Sam located a black lace choker, several black ribbons, a silver necklace with droopy heart charm, and at last! Her makeup.
Spreading the black eye liner over her top and bottom lid she added first the black ribbon choker, then the silver heart necklace, and finally a black ribbon was tied around her neck below the choker, the two ends left to dangle freely. Unbraiding her tangled mess of hair she re-braided a random chunk of it quickly, securing it with another black ribbon, Sam heated a curling iron to curl what was left to hang, her bangs lightly curled before being brushed to the side.
Locating the full length dressing mirror Liz had bought two summers before she scrutinized her appearance carefully. Sighing heavily Sam stepped back and wrapped a black fish net shawl around her waist and grabbed a black pea trench coat from the closet.
Outside the fall air was cold enough to turn her breath into puffs of smoke, and pale her olive skin. Briskly walking down her street she turned left and fifteen minutes later found her self in the heart of the city. The air, while thick with city odors of petrol, food, exhaust, and people, still held the promise of snow in the very near future.
I swear it's not a Mary Sue. At least...I hope it's not. If it is, I give you all permission to snag me with a punjab.
Your Obedient Servant
Check it: I own nothing. Though I plan to invest in some sort of time machine that will take me back to get what should rightfully belong to me and fan girls everywhere >>cackles ensue around the world