Page 6 of Echoes in the Storm
“What?” Susie tosses her belongings on top of mine, Bevan promptly shunting them all aside with his foot as he takes his seat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I was in denial, I guess. Hoped if I didn’t talk about it, then it wouldn’t happen. He said he wants to cut all ties from me.”
Susie frowns, shaking her head. Jared may be her second cousin, but the two of them couldn’t be any more different. “He’s a right arse, isn’t he?”
“I’m not ready to move.” I stay focused on my fingerless gloves as I tug them on, one by one. “But I don’t think I have any choice.”
“Bullshit.” Bevan pops his cans over his ears and flicks the power switch to tune in. “You’ve got options, Cammie. We’ll talk about it after, yeah? Mary’s doing a mic check.”
“Shoot.” Susie dashes off to her stand as I make my way behind the last row of seats to mine.
I put my own headset on and flick the power switch before turning on the spotlight so it can warm up.
“Spot one?” Mary calls through the line in hushed tones.
I glance over at Susie as she wrestles with her cord.
“Spot one?” Mary repeats less enthusiastically.
I flick my mic switch and answer, “She’s tangled at the moment.”
“Hello, Spot Two.”
Susie finally slides her headset on and shrugs across the rows of seats at me. “Did I miss my call?”
“You sure did,” Mary replies. “One box to Susie.”
The after-party is always a messy affair, and being a not-for-profit, the drama group doesn’t like paying for the food and alcohol. They’d rather reinvest any money made into the next production, which is why we have a penalty system. Any infractions during the run of a show incur a payment of a box of beer, or wine. Simple. Knock on wood, I’m still on nothing owed.
“Cam, you on?” our head rigger asks.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Make it quick, guys,” Mary warns.
“Make sure you find me after, Cammie,” he says. “The missus has some stuff for you to take to the fundraiser on Wednesday.”
“Sure thing.”
“What are you wrapped up in this time?” Susie asks.
I slide my gels out to check they’re still okay—no spots, or melted patches. “Kindergarten has their disco.”
“You still doing that?” Mary adds dryly.
“I am.” My light illuminates the wall next to the stage as I slide the cover out to check I’m good to go. Susie’s matches mine on the other side. “I have the time spare, so I figure why not?”
A collective groan comes from Susie and Bevan as Mary orders hush over the line. The house lights dip on her cue, signalling five minutes to curtain.
The familiar panic creeps in as the chatter of the audience dies down, the last people rushing to their seats. My gaze roams over the rows, mind-mapping where all the children sit. We’ve got plans in place should there be an emergency, but even so, the worry within doesn’t settle until I know where the children in the audience are and what their closest exit is.
The cue comes through for the house lights to go out entirely, and I position my hands on the grips for the spotlight, turning my focus instead to the welcome burn of the brilliant light encased beside my arm, and the show that unfolds before us.
An hour and a half of bright colours, movement, and rowdy tunes.
An hour and a half where I can pretend I’m anywhere but here.
Anywhere but where she isn’t anymore.