The Glow of the Spotlight: My Journey with Rebecca

I tell Rebecca I have to do this alone. She doesn’t know how to tap-dance, and if I want to prove I can do this, I need to walk out there myself. My legs barely hold me as I cross to center stage while she settles into a seat up front.

The band strikes up a song I don’t recognize, and my mind goes blank. I forget the opening of my routine entirely. Somewhere in the dark a man hollers for me to get on with the show, and out of the corner of my eye I spot Mr. Walrus raising his hook. My stomach drops.

Then Rebecca’s voice cuts through the crowd’s murmur. She calls out that I’m the famous Daisy Belle and starts clapping a rhythm. Within seconds the whole audience picks it up, chanting for Daisy. The sound unfreezes my feet. I know I have to dance, if only just for Rebecca.

The band eases into an old, familiar tune, and I let my feet answer it, slow at first, then quicker as the tempo climbs. My recital routine fits the new beat almost perfectly. I spin, wave to Rebecca, and feel a fresh burst of energy carry me through the rest of it. By the time I wind up the last step and take my bow, the crowd’s noise fills the hall. I didn’t turn in my best performance, but I made it through without the hook, and that leaves me weak with relief.

Rebecca meets me in the lobby afterward, grinning. She admits I scared her at the start but says I finished with a flourish. I squirm at the praise and thank her for the shout-out, confessing how nervous I really was. She insists that once I found my footing, nobody could have guessed I had stage fright at all. A real trouper, she calls me.

Walking back to the apartment beside her, I turn the performance over in my head. At the recital, I’ll be the one shouting somebody else’s name from the crowd. Liz deserves a cheering section just as much as I needed one tonight. Maybe that’s the real trick to a stage: knowing someone is rooting for you, and being ready to root right back.