The Glow of the Spotlight: My Journey with Rebecca

After dinner, Rebecca’s father heads out to buy a newspaper, and Victor slips off to spend the evening with friends of his own. Mr. and Mrs. Shereshevsky retire to their own apartment for the night, while Mrs. Rubin and the twins clear away the last of the supper dishes. Benny rolls a wooden car back and forth across the kitchen floor, off in his own world.

Rebecca draws me quietly into the parlor. This, she points out, is the perfect chance for me to run through my dance act without anyone watching. We push the chairs to the side of the room, and she settles onto the sofa. With just Rebecca there, I feel no nerves at all. I find my position, count the opening beats in my head, and hum along as I move through the routine. I might not be a professional, but by the final bow I have proven I can tap-dance.

The applause that follows is louder than I expect, and I turn to find Benny, the twins, and Mrs. Rubin all crowded in the doorway. Rebecca calls out that this was supposed to be private, and she pushes everyone back toward the kitchen. Benny still manages to get in a hug around my arm before he goes. I hadn’t wanted an audience, though it turns out to be nice having a fan.

Once we are alone again, Rebecca leans in with an idea of her own. She cannot dance a single step, she admits, but she loves to sing and act. She wonders whether the two of us could put together a whole musical, dancing, singing, and acting combined, as a surprise for the family. I love the plan, and I offer to teach her a few simple steps in return.

Rebecca’s smile falters only when she remembers her chores and Benny, who she will have to watch while we rehearse. I suggest Benny could just join the show himself. He comes tearing into the parlor at the words, thrilled at the thought of being in a play with a real dancer.

Rebecca shushes him, reminding him it is meant to stay a secret. The twins pop in right behind him, having clearly been listening at the door the whole time. There is no privacy anywhere in this apartment. Still, I only shrug and tell them the more, the merrier, which earns an approving laugh from Sadie and Sophie both.

That night, once we are tucked into bed, Rebecca whispers that we should settle on a story first and build songs and dances around it. We agree to do a fairy tale, and she admits it is nice having someone her own age to plan with, since Sadie and Sophie always leave her out things, like their trips to the picture shows, and Benny, however cute, is always underfoot. I understand completely. I have a twin sister of my own. Megan spends more time bossing me around and handing off the arithmetic she does not want to do than doing anything with me, though at least she can’t dance a single step.

Listening to Sadie and Sophie giggle together across the room, I feel an unexpected pang of loneliness, and I find myself wondering why Megan and I have never managed to get this close. For now, Rebecca and I keep talking through the play, working together easily, like the best of friends. I fall asleep picturing the musical, already deciding that once I am home again, I will ask Megan if she wants to work on a play of our own. Maybe, I think, she has just been waiting for someone to ask.