MOVED - Stage Directions

Ryan takes a deep breath before gently laying her down against his shoulder.  It’s pretty awkward for him, but he makes it as comfortable as he can for her.  As directed, Carla slowly lifts her hand and rests it on his chest.  She positions her head in his bent elbow making sure her trachea is still open to breathe.  Her hair cascades down his forearm, and he gasps a little between the notes.  The fall shines dark brown in the stage lights, but Ryan prefers the red highlights it catches when she runs track in the spring.

Carla starts singing, and the nape of her neck skims his bare wrist.  He wonders what it would feel like if his sleeve wasn’t there.  Itchy, he bets.  Itchy, but in a soft way he still wants to feel.  He envisions her without the costume on, and he nearly misses his entrance.   He hopes his face isn’t red.  They are so close, she’ll notice everything.  He hates stage makeup, but he hopes it covers up the zit developing at the end of his nose.

Ryan hopes, just a little, that her soprano notes cover his because his voice is wavering.  She sounds so much better.  To him, this is a solo and its accompaniment, not a duet.  He stumbles over words, but she knows hers.  Damn, they’ve done this so many times before, twelve times before – he counted –, why now?  He follows her lips, and as he holds the last note, Carla closes her lips and her coffee eyes.

She must be real pretty when she sleeps, he thinks.  He wonders if her boyfriends ever saw her like that.  She didn’t have a boyfriend now.  She told him two weeks ago, backstage, between scenes, when it was just them and the other girl his character was supposed to love.  He wonders if she’s a virgin.  Next fall, she’s going to UCLA to major in Chicano studies.  She could do better.  He’s still got a year left here.  Will she remember him when she visits? The junior from the musical whose term paper she edited even though he didn’t need the help and just wanted to see her. His stomach drops through the stage.  He’s never going to see her again.  
Oh, what the hell.

He leans over and kisses her forehead as the orchestra fades and the lights darken.  She wrinkles her nose a little but doesn’t move otherwise.  The audience applauds loudly.