The squeak of the curtain ropes being pulled echoes backstage as the waiting cast takes a collective breath. The sliver of light in the slit of the closed curtain becomes wider and wider. I stand quiet and, in that moment between when I suck the air into my lungs one more time and then let it out again slowly, the pit orchestra begins to play the overture. The audience goes silent. Waiting.
I stare out at the stage. I lift my hand to my throat, feeling the bump of the tiny elephant charm around my neck.
It’s time.
The trumpets announce the entrance of the chorus. My fellow cast mates push past me and out into the lights. The herald steps up center stage to loudly proclaim that the prince is giving a ball. The chorus begins to sing, and I pick up the prop packages at my feet. Ms. DeWise nods to me from behind the curtain across the stage. My cue.
I won’t hide. Or cower. Or apologize. I know there’s room for me out there.
I step out into the light.