Annalise

Driving into the city after a fight with my dad was something I was all too familiar with. When I was a teenager — rebellious, careless, and full of life — I would sneak off on Friday and Saturday nights and hangout with my friends from high school. We would scrounge up all of our change and leftover lunch money to afford the fair and wind up in a dive of a club or a hookah bar where the bouncer accidentally forgot to check our ID's. I didn't always hangout with the best group of people. My parents and I would argue constantly about who I chose to spend my weekends with. Their parents weren't strict by any means, while mine constantly fussed if I wore the wrong outfit or stomped my feet up the stairs a little too loud.

My dad eventually caught onto me sneaking out. When I was 16, he installed an alarm system right outside of my window that would trigger as soon as my head would peer out of the frame.

A few weeks later, I began to just use the front door and run off as I heard them yell behind me.

New York City is a city full of so many memories for me — from a small child to now, an adult — and driving into the city this summer has felt different. Gone were the days of going to clubs. Now, I actually had a job to do here and felt like my work really mattered. I was born to be a natural performer. My mother was a Broadway actress. She lit up every stage she graced, and was probably the most gifted performer I had ever had the privilege of watching. My father could hold his own. He and I used to put on little concerts in the living room when my mom was off chasing fame.

Those living room concerts are some of my favorite memories between he and I. I wonder if he still feels the same.

As I park my car in my apartment complex's garage, I feel a wave of nausea begin to come over me. Somehow, by the grace of God, I managed to make it into the city with about 15 minutes to spare. As I stand on the sidewalk and begin the process of hailing a cab, I pray again that there is no traffic. As long as there is none, I would make it to work on time. After a few moments of sticking my fingers in my mouth and whistling, I am finally able to breathe a sigh of relief as I give the driver the name and address of my destination. I glance down at my phone once more and decline two calls: one from my uncle Blaine and one from my uncle Kurt. I didn't have time to discuss things about my mother's celebration of life right now. I was trying my damnedest to make them proud.

Neither of them knew about the role I had taken. I didn't think they would care, I was just doing something off-Broadway anyway. I would tell them eventually.

In fact, the only person that knew I had gotten the role was my uncle Sam — the man that my parents picked to be my godfather — and my father's best friend. He was the current call that was coming in through my phone. I couldn't unfortunately ignore him. I pick up on the last ring and say, "hey, is everything alright?"

"Are you at work yet?" he asks, in a low tone.

"Not yet," I reply. "Is everything okay?"

"I just got off of the phone with your dad," he replies, taking a sip of something on the other end. "He sounds awful."

"Yeah," I tell him. "He looks it, too."

"He told us that you guys aren't coming down this weekend."

"He literally sprang it on me last minute as I was walking out of the door for work," I sigh. "I would love to come but I don't know..."

"I know. Your director is a hardass."

"It sucks," I tell him. "Because you guys know I would be there in a heartbeat," I say, lying through my teeth.

"I think it's really important that you come down," he tells me, as my cab halts at my destination. "It's for your mother, Annalise."

"Can we chat later?" I ask him, as I pay my fair and make my way out of the cab, nearly tripping over my stilettos.

"You've got 3 minutes to haul ass, Hudson!" I hear someone shout to me, as I flail my arms in the air, and open the door to the winding, narrow staircase.

"Oh, okay," he replies, sounding defeated. "What time do you get off?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "Maybe like... 7? 8? Could go as late as 10."

"Please call me as soon as you get off. I know you have a long drive back to your dad's. Good luck today."

"Thanks," I tell him, as I begin to pull my ear away from the receiver.

"Love you, kid."

"Love you too," I tell him, as I stuff my phone back in my purse.

It's several flights up before I reach my destination of the secluded dance studio. As I shuffle in and set my bag down, I hear our show's director, Jesse St. James, let out a lengthy sigh.

"Rough night again, huh?" he asks, as I make my way into the center of the hardwood floor. The large, horizontal windows of the dance studio face out to overlook the bustling city outside. The clouds have began to darken a bit, which makes sense, considering the breeze that was coming through my window earlier, as well as the humidity outside.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, as I tuck a strand of auburn hair behind my ear, trying to hide how out of breath I am. "I've been down in the lobby for like, the past ten minutes." I place my hand on my hip and cock my posture ever so slightly, as the rest of the ensemble looks on in horror.

"Funny," he tells me, as he walks over to his assistant, taking the clipboard from her hand. "I hadn't seen you down there."

"Really?" I ask, as I give him a sly grin. "Ive been down there for forever it seemed like. I could have sworn I saw you come in this morning."

"Well, I guess we just missed each other then," he states, as he clears his throat. "Everyone, if you will please be seated..."

I smooth out my leggings as I take a seat Indian-style on the cold, hardwood. As I see a familiar face sit next to me, I can't help but smile. I can feel my cheeks flush a bright shade of crimson and my palms begin to get sweaty.

"Good morning everyone. I trust you all had a good day off yesterday," Jesse begins, as he takes a sip of coffee from his nearby tumbler. "Today marks the official six month warning until opening night of Greetings from Asbury Park and this, ladies and gentleman, is your first wake-up call." I can feel everyone's demeanor in the room shift slightly. Jesse St. James is by no means a scary man, but, he is intimidating. And he doesn't take any shit from anyone, no matter how big or small your role is. When he begins to use words like first wake-up call — because unfortunately, there will probably be others — it means that we better begin to pay close attention to the words coming out of his mouth. "It has been a long last few months working tirelessly with each of you and I am so glad that in six months, this journey will begin to pay off on stage."

I couldn't believe it. Six months? While it still seemed like such a long time away, in reality, it wasn't. These next months would pass by in the blink of an eye.

It felt like yesterday that I had received the call that I would be cast as the female lead in this small, off-Broadway production. It was written by students in the theatre department of NYU — they had entered some contest and beaten out over hundreds of playwrights. The show tells the story of Mary and Johnny, two kids from Asbury Park, New Jersey, whose dreams, love, and heartbreak are set to the tune of Bruce Springsteen's greatest hits. For an off-Broadway production, the team had to jump through hoops to get approval to use any song in The Boss' catalog.

I couldn't believe we only had 6 more months to go until it was all over.

I had applied to NYU the fall of 2018, when my life was still so full of uncertainty. I had gotten in, despite all of the hurdles I had been through, and accepted into the theatre program on the first try. I had been taking classes all summer to begin my college career while my mom's life was still hanging on by a thread. It was selfish of me, I know. But given everything that had happened this spring, she encouraged me to go for it and never look back. I had only began to start work on the production of Greetings from Asbury Park when her condition worsened. My goal was to make them proud — but most of my family has been on a Broadway stage before. A production off of Broadway I'm sure wouldn't mean much to them anyway. They had watched me on stage my entire life — community theatre, musicals at school, any talent contest I could enter — so all of them knew I was one day going to end up like my mom and chase my performing dreams as well.

"I wanted to give you all an update on this week's schedule," he begins, staring down at the clipboard in his hand.

When it was announced that Jesse St. James would be our director, my first thought was that our show was doomed. He had also been a performer in the Broadway circles over the past fifteen years, and began directing about four years ago. Everything he touched had failed. After a public stint in rehab a few falls ago, he hadn't taken a job since this one came about. There was something about him though that had changed. Something was his new driving force. He was a great director and had such a vision for this show that I couldn't imagine the job belonging to anyone else.

"I'm passing out your updated schedules now. We had to move a few numbers around as far as rehearsing goes since most of you begin your full-time classes here in about two weeks. Please make sure you write these changes down in your calendar. We will not be meeting for the Labor Day holiday..."

There was something about Jesse St. James though that was a mystery. I didn't know much about him. I knew though, every time he looked at me, he looked like he had just seen a ghost. I didn't take offense to it by any means. It was my motivation to work harder. He was the toughest on me: far more than he was to anyone else in the cast. I think he just sensed something in me. I didn't quite know what that was. Maybe one day, I would. But I don't think that day would be today.

"Tech week is slated for the week right after Christmas. Please note that due to timing restrictions, we may not be able to take the Christmas holiday off..."

Tomorrow wouldn't be the day, either.

"There will be no more funny business, and I'm serious. Every time you are late, every time you miss a step, every time you miss a note or are off-key, not only is your ass on the line but your role is, too." He clears his throat and takes another sip of coffee from his tumbler. I could feel his eyes burn through my skin. "This show means a lot to me — and it means a lot to you all, too. I am hoping that you all are taking this as seriously as I am and know that for these next 24 weeks, I mean business." All of the cast and ensemble members begin to nod their heads around me. Jesse clears his throat one last time, and calls us up from our seats on the hardwood. "We have a long day ahead of us, ladies and gents, especially to make up for the time lost yesterday. Let's go ahead and begin with Act II, scene 10. Daniel —," he says, pointing to my counter part, "if you and Annalise could get in position for Jungleland, that would be great."

Finn

These past 6 weeks have been a nightmare.

Scratch that: these past two years, 9 months, and 26 days have been an absolute nightmare, one that I couldn't seem to wake myself up from. I wouldn't wish the death of a spouse upon even my worst enemy.

If you would have asked me 20 years ago what my biggest fear was, I would have looked you square in the eye and laughed in your face: I wasn't afraid of a single thing. Now, at nearly 39 years old with a tour of Iraq under my belt, I can admit that my worst fear was losing the woman that I loved most in life. I had no idea how I was going to live on Earth without her by my side. She and I were two halves of a whole: we were each other's person. When Rachel and I wed all of those years ago and vowed until death do us part, I thought that it would be when we were old and gray; not when we were approaching mid-life. I don't know who or what I blame more — but the cancer is a good place to start.

Rachel was diagnosed back in 2017 with stage two cervical cancer. With a team of New York's finest oncologists behind us, we prepared for the battle, to ensure that the 90% survival rate that we were promised would become a reality. Rachel and I went through the endless doctor's visits and the grueling hours of radiation and chemotherapy only to be told that nothing was working: first, the medication and then the treatment. Her body somehow was not responding to any of it. We had run out of options at that point and honestly, I think Rachel was worn out from fighting so hard. We were not in shock when they told us it was spreading rapidly and her days were numbered. First, to her liver, then her esophagus, then finally her lungs. When she passed, the cancer had spread to her brain, but I think it was her heart that finally gave out from seeing the ones she loved in so much pain. Rachel would remind me that my life was still going to continue on and I needed to be strong for our daughter. At this time however, I didn't think I had one ounce of strength left in me.

I glance over and look at the picture siting on the mantle of the fireplace of Annalise in her high school cap and gown. As I look at her, I know I need to muster up some strength to carry on and live up to the expectations that I set for myself of being the best father I possibly can be. Annalise has been my world long before she blossomed into the young woman that she has become. Our relationship hasn't always been the most solid. Rachel was her primary care-giver and main supporter for so much of her adolescence. Even when Rachel was states away, Annalise always wanted to be by her mother's side. By the time elementary school was over, the hope of having any sort of father-daughter relationship had vanished altogether, and worsened when she became a teenager. Annalise and I didn't have a whole lot to bond over —I had tried everything in our months without Rachel from then to now — but nothing had worked. Granted, I wasn't a part of her life for the first few years. I still wished that she would have allowed me to be as close to her as her mother was. Though she was unplanned and unexpected, it did not mean that she was unwanted. Since the first time Rachel and I made love to one-another back in high school, I knew that one day I wanted to start a family with her. When I found out that I had a daughter — we had a daughter — I knew that my life would be changing forever. I was ready to come home and be a father to this beautiful little girl and a husband to the woman that I had given my whole heart to.

The United States Army, however, had other plans for me.

I had missed so many important moments in Annalise and Rachel's lives that the only regret that I had at this point was even enlisting in the first place.

It's nearly 8pm and the only time that I moved from the couch today was to argue with her. That's what she and I do though. We fight. We have always fought. It's different though without Rachel here to separate us. I had wished that her response this morning had been anything but what she gave to me. She didn't seem interested and frankly, I didn't either. But, I knew that this is what Rachel would have wanted. She loved being the center of attention and everyone making a huge fuss over her. She would have loved the fact that we were all going to be back together and dedicate songs and share memories of our life together: a life that ended way too soon.

And I know that she would be thrilled that they're turning the lights off on the stages or whatever. I know she's talked about it before. But to know that it'll actually be done for her is nothing short of magical.

I've been in talks with my family back home all day and have made my rounds: first, my step-brother Kurt, then his husband Blaine, my best friend Sam, and of course my mom and step-dad. All of them begged us to just come down for the weekend. All my daughter would have to do is take one weekend off of work. How hard of a job is it to answer phones in the admissions office? Don't they have someone else trained to do that?

I take one more look down at my phone. I have a missed call, but I'm too afraid to call that person back because I know what it will lead to.

"So you had to resort to him, huh guys?"

Him being my old glee club director, Will Schuester. Him being a man that has always been like a father to me, even after my mom married Burt. Him being the man that helped to mold me into the man I am today.

I haven't spoken to him since Rachel's services and even then, we didn't speak much. I knew that if I opened myself up enough to him I would explode in rage or just start crying. I didn't cry much. But all of a sudden, life is different now. And things that I never did I'm starting to do.

Like drinking. I never drank much into adulthood. I'd have a beer here and there with the guys to start my weekend, and a glass of wine maybe on a date night. We'd even break open a bottle of champagne for special occasions. But I'm drinking heavily now. Stuff like whiskey that I never thought I could like. I've made more trips to the liquor store than I have to the shower in the past few weeks. I never thought that's who I'd become. But death makes you do things like that. I figure I'd just pass out, because passing out would mean I could see her in my dreams, only if it was for a little while when I was asleep.

I stare down at my phone one more time. I take another swig from the Jameson bottle on the end table next to me. As I secure the cap tightly, I swipe the screen on my phone as it begins to dial the number that nearly two decades later I still know by heart.

"Finn," he says to me warmly on the other end. "How are you doing?"

I'm silent for a moment, as I try to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent the tears from falling. "I'm... I'm hanging in there." I had no choice in that moment but to lie through my teeth. I clear my throat and say, "waiting on Annalise to get back from work."

"How is she doing?"

I shake my head, thankful that he can't see my body language from the other end of the phone. "She's okay. She loves her new job. She starts classes in a few weeks."

"That's great," Mr. Schue replies. "I'm happy for her. Danny starts in a few weeks also."

"That's... wow. That's wonderful."

"When did our kids get so old, right?" he chuckles. "I have a junior in college and you have a freshman. It's hard to think about things like that."

"Yeah," I say, pressing the mute button on my phone and taking another swig from the bottle. I don't want him to hear me. I don't need the questions. I just need to feel no pain in this moment. "It's insane to think about. I remember when they were little kids playing hide-and-seek in your backyard."

"It feels like yesterday," he replies. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he is smiling as he does so. "So I, uh..." he says, clearing his throat. "I spoke to Kurt earlier today. And Blaine. They mentioned you guys aren't coming down this weekend?"

"Yeah," I reply, much quicker than I thought my mind would. "Yeah, with Anna's new job she's not sure if she can take the time off."

"I understand."

"You do?" I ask, a little shocked at his reply.

"I do," he tells me. "She's an adult now. But that doesn't mean that you can't come. What is stopping you from coming?"

I could think of a million reasons not to go down to Ohio right now. But instead I settle for, "it's just.. I don't know. Too hard."

"The Finn Hudson I know would have never thought that."

"I haven't been the same Finn Hudson in a long time, Mr. Schue."

"I know," he replies. "I know you haven't been. Rachel would have wanted this though. She would have loved this. And she would love nothing more than to have her family right there, remembering who she was."

I choke back a little as I tell him, "I know." An awkward silence overcomes us as I parrot the same words back.

"Do you want to talk, Finn?"

"How much time do you have?" I laugh, half expecting to hear a lengthy sigh on the other end.

"As much time as you need."

Annalise

Work didn't end until about 8:30 that evening. I was exhausted by the time we finished — and we didn't even go over the entire show.

I was off today. Everyone — Danny, Jesse St. James, the ensemble and cast members— they could tell. I missed a few dance steps, I stumbled over lines, I was off key in mostly every song that came out of my mouth. I wasn't myself today. It felt almost like something was missing.

I just didn't know what.

I fully expected that when Jesse called me into his office after work that he was going to tell me to pack my bags and go back to where I came from. I wasn't good enough and my understudy would be taking my place. My heart was racing a million miles a minute. I was sweating through my body suit — the sweat was escaping out of my pores. My head was pounding, my ears were ringing, and I had a slight twitch in my left eye. I didn't know if this was the start of me having an episode or if my anxiety was just through the roof right now.

Either way, I couldn't stand outside his office door in anticipation any longer.

"Come in, Ms. Hudson," he tells me, as I open up the bulky oak wood door. It feels heavier than it ever has. I remember opening this door for the first time when I received the lead role in the production. The only time I opened it after that was to take my allotted bereavement time when my mom passed away.

But today, it felt heavier. Today felt like this could be the last time I would ever open this door.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. St. James?" I ask, as I stand at the entryway of his small office.

"Please," he says, reaching his hand out in front of him. "Please take a seat."

As he instructs me to do so, I place my sweaty body on the cool burgundy leather chair that sits in front of his accenting oak wood desk. There isn't much to his office. The walls are painted a drab cream color and the carpeting matches and has hints of burgundy and dark brown scattered throughout. There's no pictures on the wall — just accolades. His certificate from the SAG Awards for some commercial he did while trying to pay his way through college, his diploma from NYU when he graduated back in 2003, and letters from playwrights, actors, and actresses singing his praises. In fact, the only thing that makes him slightly human is the picture of a dog sitting on his desk — probably just one of those stock photos that the store puts in a picture frame until you put your own picture in there.

"What's this about?" I ask, as I fold my hands and place them in my lap.

He leans back a little in his chair and gives me this weird, sly smile. "Are you doing okay? I'm worried about you. You didn't seem like yourself today. And all jokes aside because that's what you and I do, I'm genuinely concerned about you."

I shrug my shoulders. "I was just having a day."

"Is it about your mom?" he asks, almost without any hesitation.

I shake my head. "I miss her all of the time. My days aren't affected by that."

"What about your dad?"

"Why do you care so much about my personal life?" I ask, the words coming out of my mouth a lot more harsh than I had hoped they would be. "Sorry," I say, as I hang my head just a bit.

"I don't," he tells me. "I had never met your mother, even though we knew a lot of the same people from here."

"Uh huh," I tell him.

"So tell me, Annalise. Why were you off today? Did something happen with one of the members of the cast?"

"Do you want me to lie so this conversation will end as soon as possible or do you want me to tell you the truth?"

"As your director," he tells me, straightening the picture of the dog on his desk, "I would like to know what is going on with my lead actress and if there's anything to be concerned about."

"Not really," I tell him, letting out a deep sigh. "My uh, my parents are originally from Ohio and they're doing this thing for my mom this weekend at some theatre there."

Jesse nods his head. "I read about that on Facebook today."

"Yeah, and I really want to go. I do. But I know how important this show is..."

"It is," he tells me. "But family is also important. And you know any time you need to speak to me about something concerning your mom, you can always come talk to me. Everyone thinks I'm this mean guy. I guess it's my face," he chuckles. "But I understand completely. Family is a lot more than this show and your dreams and sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the people we love and the places we want to go."

"Thank you," I tell him. "Because I was worried sick all day that you wouldn't let me have Friday off and..."

"No," he begins, interrupting my train of thought. "Let me finish. Family is important, sure. But work is important, too. You took the role knowing that your mom had cancer..."

"Yeah, I did," I tell him.

"So, I'll change Friday's schedule around as a one time accommodation. But I need you to be on time, here, at 7am and we should wrap up around 2pm or so. That gives you plenty of time to hop on a flight and go back to Ohio. I need you here though, Monday afternoon — on time. No if's, and's, or but's about it. Okay?"

I nod my head and sigh. I'm relieved, but I'm also kind of pissed because I was really expecting to get an earlier flight to have time to catch up with my family. At this rate, I'll only get maybe a day and a half with them, which is not enough time at all.

"If you're late, you will be issued a written warning. Three written warnings means that your understudy steps in and you can kiss your role and the Gene Frankel theatre goodbye. Okay?"

I nod my head once more, wishing that this conversation would just end already. "I understand. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," he tells me, as I stand up from the leather seat. I smooth out my leggings as the warm moisture sticks to my hand. "You have a lot of potential, you know," he tells me, as I head for the door. I step back and look at him once more. "You have potential to be better than your mom. If you bring everything you have to your job and your role, you really could go far."

"Thank you," I tell him again, as I open up the door one last time. It feels a lot lighter this go-around. "I appreciate that more than you'll ever know. Have a good night."

"You as well," he replies. "Have a safe drive home, too."

I smile, as I make my way out of the office. I stick around for just a moment, peering my head in through the glass opening as I see Jesse reach into his drawer and pull a picture out of it. He places it firmly in the picture frame, where the dog with the wagging tail once was.

I don't know what it could have been of. But why did he wait until I left to place it back on his desk?

I don't think much of it as I make my way outside to the busy streets of New York City, and wonder what kind of hell awaits me at home.