The Glow of the Spotlight: My Journey with Rebecca

I side with Rebecca. It was her idea first, and I don’t think we need to turn Cinderella into a rescue moving picture just because Sadie says so. I tell her so, quietly, and that’s enough to tip the argument. There’s a moment of silence, where all we can hear is the pigeons rattling in their cages at our loud arguing.

Finally, Sadie takes a deep breath. She folds her arms and announces that if we won’t make the play modern, she and Sophie are out of it entirely. Rebecca snaps back that it’s our play, and the twins should follow our story. That is when Mr. Rossi pushes open the door onto the roof, none too pleased, warning that all the yelling is bad for his birds. Sadie mutters that they were leaving anyway, takes Sophie’s arm, and the two of them stalk off the roof.

Rebecca, Benny, and I are quiet while Mr. Rossi checks the cages, and after a long, suspicious look around, he finally heads back inside. Benny tugs Rebecca’s sleeve to ask if he’s still the handsome prince. She reassures him, though she looks nearly as let down as I feel.

We decide to press on without the twins. Rebecca chews on the idea for a few minutes, kicking gravel with her toe, before she brightens. What if the Fairy Godmother gives Cinderella a short bob and tucks her into a hot-air balloon that sails right over the palace wall? It isn’t the fairy tale exactly, but it might just work.

Watching Rebecca stew over the fight, I can’t help thinking of Megan. We argue plenty, and I rarely back down first, even when the actual outcome barely matters. Maybe letting go of being right once in a while would do us both some good.

That evening the Rubins host an elegant Shabbos dinner, with china plates and hand-embroidered linens on the table. The twins light the candles and murmur a blessing in Hebrew. The meal feels unusually quiet, since Sadie and Sophie pointedly ignore Rebecca.

Finally, Rebecca breaks the silence and says they are doing a performance of Cinderella and would like to perform it for everyone tomorrow. She mentions the hot-air balloon twist, and Mr. Rubin’s eyebrows shoot up. The twins can’t help asking why they’re suddenly left out of a story that’s already changing. I suggest, as casually as I can manage, that we could still use a couple of stepsisters. Sophie claps, and just like that, the twins are back in.

Mr. Rubin says maybe mixing a traditional story with a new idea isn’t always a bad thing. Mrs. Rubin chimes in, saying it’s just like dessert! She brings in a plate of Bubbie’s rugelach, creatively paired with ice cream. Nobody complains about the combination of old and new, onstage or on the table.

After dinner, the sisters patch things up in the parlor, admitting they should have compromised sooner and promising to work together better. I realize I could stand to try the same thing with Megan.

I say goodbye to the Rubins and hug Rebecca tightly. I know she and her sisters will figure the rest out without me. Outside on the street, I slip around the corner and twist my nesting dolls, landing back inside the antique shop. Mom, Megan, and I grab a quick dinner at a deli, and then make it to the ferry right before the boat sets off.

I sit beside Megan on a ferry bench, shivering in the evening breeze. Without a word, she hands over her spare sweatshirt, and I pull it on gratefully. I tell her that maybe it’s time for me to ditch the skirts. She looks at me skeptically, and I tease that I’ll find a pair of jeans, with rhinestones on the pockets.