“We’re doing Mame.” Ethan gestures to the crescent like a goofy game show host, big sweet smile, and I feel ridiculous for having any fear of him. I’m like frayed wires, sparking at all the wrong times.
“For Drama Club?” I ask. My heartbeat is almost normal again.
Ethan laughs. “For the drama department.”
“So, what exactly does that mean?” I ask, using a phrase Margo employs whenever she doesn’t want to let on how much she doesn’t know.
“Our students study acting, stage management, set design, or dramaturgy,” Ethan says in an announcer voice like he’s narrating an infomercial, “with the goal of working in professional theatre.” He kicks at a rope coiled on the floor. “I teach technical theatre and design.”
“That’s a thing people go to school for?” I set my guitar case on the floor and run my hand along the banister of the stairs. It looks like brass but feels like wood.
“Yup,” Ethan says.
“And you did this?”
“Well, my students did this,” he says, climbing into the crescent. He reaches for my hand to help me step into it too. There’s scaffolding and a seat hidden just behind the glitter. “I have a student who wants to do rig work, so we’re going all out for Man in the Moon, lowering Vera from the heavens.” He points to the metal walkways above us.
“You get paid to help students build things like this?” I shake my head, amazed.
“April,” Ethan says, “you get paid to travel around and sing songs to people.”
“It’s a way to get by.”
“Your way of getting by is a lot of people’s dream.”
“People dream of being rock stars. They don’t dream about living in their car.”
Ethan gives me his worried look again. “Maybe not, but they do dream of flying.” He points to the seat. “Sit.”
I do. I think I know where this is going and maybe you’re not supposed to climb in a moon with a guy you met on the street, but I survived the darkness just fine.
“Okay, legs over the front of the moon,” he says. “Can you reach the footholds?” He guides my feet to small metal platforms, then straps a harness around my waist. He smells like woodsy cologne. He is calm and patient and sure of himself as he works the buckles. From some angles he looks a little like Elvis, if Elvis had gotten older without getting fat: sleepy eyes, pillowy lips, a slight cleft in his chin.
“It’s safe?” I ask.
“Completely. I let my students use me as the crash test dummy.” Ethan jumps from the moon, opens my case, and takes my guitar out like he’s carrying a newborn. He gathers my hair to one shoulder, looping the strap over the other, adjusting it just so.
It reminds me of Carly. Of getting ready to go see Cat Skin. The way she took care of me. I don’t let myself think that Asheville could be the Ithaca where I get to stay. Or that Ethan could be my friend like Carly, and Robert could be someone too. The best way to keep your heart from getting broken is not to get your hopes up in the first place.
Ethan ties down the tail of the waist strap. “Voilà! Fanfare,” he says. “You can sing from the moon.” He runs off stage.
The lights dim. I brace myself, clutching my guitar like it will somehow keep me safe.
The ride up is so smooth it feels like the floor is falling away from me. I glance past my feet and watch the distance grow. My stomach wobbles.
“Locked in!” Ethan yells. And then the curtain opens to a sea of empty red velvet seats. “Wait! Wait.” He runs to the shadows at the back of the theater.
A loud click and I’m in the spotlight, glitter shining.
“Sing, bellissima! Sing!” Ethan calls from the audience.
“Okay,” I say softly, and I’m stunned by the way my voice travels.
It feels silly, playing just for Ethan, but I desperately want to know what it’s like to sing in a theater like this and hear my voice echo back to me.
I start with the song I never play at gigs. I love it the most, so it feels like too much to share. But Ethan doesn’t have to know how much it means to me.
I’ve been north, I’ve been south
Traveled here and there.
I shed the lives I’ve left
Without a single care
I’ve been up, I’ve been down
I’m forever free to roam
But never in my life,
Have I ever made it home
I sing the whole thing with my eyes closed so I can hear the way the sound surrounds me. When I strum, the moon swings and I really do feel like I’m flying. I imagine looking out over a packed house. I imagine what the applause would feel like in my chest.