Rebel at Spruce High

Act two goes just as well as the first. And in the final scene when Kingsley and Danny embrace one another for one last kiss before the curtain closes on our story, I fall out of character for a moment, my eyes searching Toby’s. And I suspect he has a similar experience, for his lips curl upward, betraying the emotion of the scene, and for a flicker of an instant, I don’t see Danny; I see a guy who is proud that he just got through opening night of ‘I’ll Always Remember Seaside’ and rendered all of Spruce speechless with his performance. And damn it, I’m proud of him, too.

And that’s precisely the feeling we leave the audience with, as the curtains close on our joined faces.

The auditorium explodes with applause as the curtains rise again with all the rest of the cast among us, and we take our bow. I grip Toby’s sweaty hand when the cast separates to allow the pair of us our own bow, and after I take mine, I give a gesture at Toby, letting the whole school explode with screams of joy and proud celebration. Toby is the shining star tonight in Spruce, Texas, and I couldn’t be happier for him.

Apparently more people showed up for the show than Toby was counting on. After we wipe off our stage makeup and change back into our normal clothes, we are surprised upon our exit to the lobby to be met with a secondary wave of applause and cheers from all the people who stuck around. A trio of last year’s grads rush up to congratulate Toby, including TJ, that nice guy from the T&S pastry place, who seems to be seeing Toby in an all-new light. Meanwhile, I’m approached by a number of random strangers who tell me how great a job I did, including some freshmen, who are apparently so inspired by my acting that they are now eager to audition for the upcoming winter show.

I’m still combing the crowd with my eyes, on the lookout for my own parents, when Toby is met by his mother. “You did such a great job, sweetheart!” she cries as she flings her arms around her son’s neck. “I cried when you two came back together in the end!”

“Where’s Carl?” Toby asks when they separate from the hug.

“There’s a game tonight, honey! So he’s there supporting Lee while I’m—Oh, don’t worry, he’ll come to your show tomorrow, I’m sure! Or … Or the Sunday matinée. Totally certain of it!” She titters nervously as her smile tightens.

I see it in Toby’s eyes. He’s not fooled either.

But he smiles anyway, kisses his mom on the cheek, and tells her how happy he is that she’s here. Then he goes into a story of how nervous he was before the show, how I talked him down, and a bunch of other stuff to distract himself from the fact that his stepdad and stepbrother likely won’t support Toby’s show. I don’t know if he was actually expecting them to come, or if the subtle look of pain in his eyes says that, despite flipping off his dad and having a strained-at-best relationship with his stepbrother, he did actually hope they’d show up.

I don’t want anyone to hurt Toby or make him feel less than the amazing guy he is, even his own family.

Toby turns to me. “Vann! Come in for a pic!” Smiling, I throw an arm around my guy, with his mother’s sweet face squeezed next to ours. Toby lifts his phone, shoots the screen a lopsided grin with our three faces in the frame, then snaps a selfie of us.

The selfie is at once crashed by an overly-excited Kelsey, who has arrived with her dads, Tyrone and Omar King. Omar, who is apparently the town veterinarian, is a stout, soft-bodied bald man whose smooth, russet complexion reddens in his cheeks when he smiles at us and congratulates us for our performances, citing very specific things he enjoyed. His husband Tyrone is a tall man with deep chestnut skin and eyes that are inviting and kind, despite a harsh, jagged scar that winds down his left cheek, hidden only somewhat by his short, tightly-shaped beard. Toby leans in to tell me Tyrone used to be a police officer here in Spruce, but doesn’t mention what caused him to leave the force, so I just assume he retired. Kelsey looks like a completely different version of herself in front of her dads, appearing as chipper and energetic as a ten-year-old girl on Christmas morning. Every time she looks at them, they beam back at her.

I wonder if I’ve ever looked at my parents that way.

As if summoned by my thoughts, my mom and dad make their appearance, emerging from the thick crowd like surprise celebrity guests. My mother is in a gown I’d say is way overdressed for the high-school-theatre occasion, and my dad has chosen to don one of his finest suits. Their priority, however, doesn’t seem to be coming over to throw me any big congratulations; they’re stopped several times on the way by people they’ve met around town, with whom I can only imagine my dad is working business deals, or my mom is working her social circles. My mother is first to reach me, as my dad is caught up in a conversation, and when she hugs me, it just might be the most dramatic embrace she’s ever given—a grand, public display of mother-to-son affection. “I am so, so, so very proud of you,” she states, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Such an outstanding and provocative performance. Truly stirring. And Toby Michaels.” She faces him with light in her eyes. “Truly splendid. Remarkable performance. Sensitive and heartwarming.”