The Glow of the Spotlight: My Journey with Rebecca

Outside, streetlights blaze along Broadway, and Rebecca admires them, explaining that this is why people call the avenue The Great White Way. I’ve never heard the name before, but it fits, since everything around us glows in white light. I wonder what Rebecca would make of the neon and moving billboards that light up the same street a hundred years from now.

The lights only remind Rebecca how late she is, and she decides we’d better spend some of our hard-won pennies on the trolley home. Two overcrowded cars rattle past without stopping, passengers clinging to the outside railings, before a third finally slows for us. Rebecca looks close to tears the whole ride, and I feel guilty for talking her into staying at the theater as long as we did. The trolley finally drops us near East Seventh Street, and we run the rest of the way to the apartment.

Inside, Rebecca’s parents are pacing the kitchen, and her father holds out his pocket watch to show us exactly how late we are. Bubbie fusses over a pan on the stove, scolding that dinner has been ruined waiting on us. Mrs. Rubin demands to know where Rebecca’s been, reminding her that Shabbos begins the moment the sun sets, not a minute later. Benny pipes up that Victor is in just as much trouble, and Mr. Rubin has barely asked whether her brother is with them when the door bursts open and Victor stumbles in, gasping for breath and pointing an accusing finger at the two of us, insisting he’s only late because of Rebecca and me.

It turns out Victor followed us all the way to Times Square himself, watched us disappear into the Coronet Theater, and stuck around long enough to see us actually take the stage. Rebecca’s grandfather can hardly believe it, sputtering that their Beckie got up and performed in front of a crowd.

I jump in before Rebecca can take the blame alone, insisting she only came along to help me find the theater and get through my audition. Rebecca argues right back that I shouldn’t be the one apologizing either, since it was her idea to stay late to get the results. And it was worth it—we won second place!

Rebecca’s father asks, in a voice gone strangely thin, what we’re supposed to do to make things right. I offer up my half of the prize money on the spot, since Rebecca’s family needs it far more than I ever will. Rebecca presses the coins straight into her father’s hand and asks him to put them toward Uncle Jacob’s ship tickets, so our small prize can help bring his family over from Russia at last. Her father clears his throat and tells her he’s glad to see her thinking of someone besides herself, adding, with the smallest twinkle in his eye, that maybe stepping onstage to help a friend counts as exactly that.

Later, once we’re finally alone, Rebecca gives me a mischievous grin and admits she isn’t the least bit sorry about tonight. She got to do something she loves, she says, and it ended up helping people she cares about, too, myself included. I can’t help agreeing. Whatever trouble it caused, our night onstage together taught me that performing beside a friend is nowhere near as frightening as standing there alone.

Once I’m home again, I decide I’m going to ask Liz if she wants to practice my recital solo together until we’ve both got it down cold. There’s no real reason it has to stay a solo. If I help her learn the steps and we ask Ms. Amelia together, maybe she’ll let the two of us dance it side by side. Even if she says no, Liz will at least know I wanted to share the spotlight with her, and with any luck, all that extra practice might even earn her a solo of her own one day. Just like Rebecca, I’ll get to do something I love, and help someone else in the process.