Open Mic Night at Westminster Cemetery by Mary Amato

Author:Mary Amato
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group
Published: 2018-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

Scene 8: Showtime

With the moon hanging like a spotlight in the black sky, Lacy steps up to the microphone, top hat on. Billy is on her left. Sam is on her right. To her delight, the crowd keeps chatting, so thrilled to be out, so happy to be participating in some form of communal entertainment that they don’t even notice that she’s ready to begin. Even Owen Hapliss is responding. Although he is still at his spot against the side wall of the church, he has turned to face the stage, and his back is straight, his eyes bright. Lacy smiles and waves at him to come forward, to take a seat closer. Shock sweeps over his face, and he shakes his head. This girl is sweet but naïve, he thinks. No one here would want him to sit near them.

Billy taps his drumsticks against a tombstone to get the audience’s attention.

LACY: Hi . . . Welcome to Open Mic Night at Westminster Cemetery. (Quite suddenly the crowd hushes, and Lacy’s legs begin to shake.) Wow. It’s so quiet. Um . . . Um . . .

Sam knows a thing or two about nervousness, and he can tell that Lacy’s mind has gone blank. He waves the sign-up sheet at her and his sweet, helpful expression gives her the boost she needs.

LACY: Okay. Before the show begins, let me explain how it works. Sam has the sign-up sheet. (She smiles.) Thank you, Sam. At any time during the show, you can add your name to the list if you want to perform. I’ll start at the top of the list. When I call your name, just come up. Let’s be supportive and make it an atmosphere that feels safe and open. Everybody’s welcome.

Without a word of warning, Mrs. Steele steps out of the shadows and walks toward the stage. At the sight of her, George and Mildred Babbitt get up quietly and return to their graves. Billy quickly reclaims his cap from the stone angel statue on which he had so casually thrown it and hastily buttons up his jacket.

With a cold smile, Mrs. Steele chooses to perch on a tombstone near the open area that is serving as the stage, a spot where everyone can see her. She turns and catches Sarah’s attention to bring her a cup of tea.

Six more residents get up and return quickly to their graves, Cumberland Poltroon among them. Virginia rolls her eyes at his cowardice. Just when things are getting interesting, she thinks to herself.

Lacy knows what the old woman is doing. It’s brilliant. She’s using her own presence like a weapon, reminding everybody that she’ll be watching for the slightest act of impropriety. She might as well have stood up and read a warning. Those who are remaining in their seats look terrified. Some of them probably want to go to their graves, too, but are afraid to even do that.

Sarah comes around behind Mrs. Steele with the tea, her hand shaking so much the cup is rattling against the saucer.

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