I'm Not a Princess, This Ain't a Fairytale

I stopped outside the theater door. I took a deep breath. When had been the last time I had stepped in here? Years ago? When had been the last time I performed on the stage I had loved so? Ten years ago maybe? I didn’t know. It hurt too much to count, to have to remember what I had given up. I had loved this place, this stage, these memories. It had been the best place in my world. But it held my darkest memory. This was the place I had dreamt my biggest and greatest dreams. But it also the place my whole world shattered. It was the place everything crumbled down around me.

I took a deep breath and took a step inside. Slowly, I looked around as I walked through the backstage. My fingers lightly trailed the things placed around the dark area. It was all the same. It was exactly the same as the day I left these doors forever. The dressers for the actors, the props, the sets, the curtains. It was all the same. This was the place I hed in my memories, the place I had been happiest.

”Daddy, did you see me,” I yelled, running to my waiting father.

He bent down and smiled, hugging me. “I saw sweetie. You were amazing. Best show ever. You sang just like an angel, my little angel.” He kissed the top of my head. “My little star of the show.”

I glowed, loving the praise, loving having made him so happy.

“Ah Paul,” Mr. Forbis, the director, came over to us. “You were quite right. She did not disappoint me. Quite the little actress and singer you have there.”

My dad smiled. “What did I tell you? She’s a Jonas. She’s my little girl. She sure has a set of vocals, doesn’t she?”

“Quite right, quite right,” Mr. Forbis nodded. “We’d love to have her in our production of Annie. She’s be marvelous, of course.”

“Playing an orphan, huh,” my dad said uneasily.

“All acting of course,” Mr. Forbis winked at me. “Should be no problem for her, of course. Quite talented, quite talented.”

My dad chuckled, turning to me. “What do you think Mia, honey? Want to play Annie?”

“Yes,” I said excitedly. Another chance to sing and act? It would always be a yes, especially when it made my dad so happy.

“Wonderful, quite wonderful,” Mr. Forbis nodded. “We’ll see you in rehearsals started next week, alright Mia?”

He left and Joe ran over to us. Kevin and Nick followed too. “Mia! You were so pretty! And oh man! Id you see that chimney scene? And it was so good! You made Kevin cry.”

“Did not,” Kevin grinned at me. He hugged me. “You were amazing Mia.”

“Psh, I’m better,” Joe said.

“Can we go get ice cream,” Nick asked.

My dad laughed. “Let’s go. We can pick something up for your mother. She must be a wreck. Frankie’s still sick.”

“Poor Frank the Tank,” Joe said.

And we went to go get ice cream. My dad let me sit up front because I was the star today.

I sighed, trying to push the memory out of my head. That had been so long ago. And it hurt to think about it. I saw a door to my right and froze. It was the door. The door I had walked through to ruin everything. And unwillingly, I remembered yet another night here. A night during the Annie rehearsals.

”Daddy, how could you,” I cried, falling to the ground. The woman had long since left. The woman who had been kissing my dad. Now my dad was glowering at me.

“Shut the hell up,” he seethed. “You better not tell your mother abut this.”

“But mommy,” I cried. “Don’t you love her? How could you kiss that – that woman?”

My dad smacked me across the face. “Shut up you little whore.”

I stood, frozen in horror. My dad had never hit me. Never. He had never raised his hand to me. He had never even yelled at me. And now he had hit me, to defend that woman. I cried even more. He hit me again. “Stop crying. Why don’t you sing now, huh? Sing for me princess. Sing!” He hit me again.

I clamped my mouth shut. Sing? Sing for this? How could I? It was because of singing that this had happened. If I hadn’t taken this role, I wouldn’t have to come to the theater anymore. My dad wouldn’t have been with that woman. It was because of my singing. T was because of what I liked. I stood still and quiet as he hit me again.

I cringed at that memory. It seemed so clear in my mind, like it had happened yesterday. What had happened afterwards was just as clear. Joe had run to me when my father left. He had wrapped his arms around me. And he had cried with me. We had both cried at what had happened. Joe started to sing a song to me. A quiet song, a comforting song. I closed my eyes now, and I could hear it still.

”There must be high love down in the heart or hidden in the stars above. Without it, life is wasted time. Look inside your heart, I’ll look inside mine—

I opened my eyes. His voice, his singing, they weren’t just in my memory. I listened carefully. I could hear it. I could really hear the song.

“Bring me a higher love, bring me a higher love, bring me a higher love, where’s that higher love I’ve been searching for.”

I walked to the stage. And there he was, standing there, singing to the empty audience. I watched him for a while, just closing my eyes and letting his words pour over me. “World’s turning, and we’re just hanging on. Facing our fear, standing out there alone. A yearning, it’s so real to me. Must be someone out there for me.”

It wasn’t till he stopped that I realized I had started singing too. He looked over at me. “Frankie’s right,” he said quietly. “You have the voice of an angel.”