Heaven Is to Your Left by Vanda Writer

Author:Vanda Writer [Writer, Vanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sans Merci Press
Published: 2018-11-30T07:00:00+00:00

“I don’t know why we have to stand back here when we have excellent seats down there,” Scott said.

We stood in the back of the last row of orchestra seats, leaning on the railing. “You don’t have to stand here with me.”

The book writer paced up and down on the rug behind us. He wore his red hair in a DA.

Trying to look cool, I supposed. For his last play, the one that landed Juliana into a deep depression swearing never to set foot on the boards again, he’d had a crew cut. Maybe he was hoping the new modern style would make this new play better than the last one. He took off his thick glasses, hastily cleaned them, and put them back on again.

“I can’t leave you here by yourself,” Scott said. “But, you know, Marty did want our

tickets and here we are wasting them.”

“At intermission, he can have my seat and you can sit down there with him.”

“Oh, sure. And you think Marty’s going to be a cad and leave Lucille back in Q? And what will everyone in the audience think if they see two men sitting together?”

“All right, all right, your points are made.”

“Just tell me why we’re standing here.”

“I can’t sit quiet and ladylike while Juliana is up there facing . . . I just can’t, but that’s no reason you have to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine. Nice view from here.”

I patted his hand resting on the railing. Such a kind soul.

The lights slowly went down, and my stomach flip-flopped. The book writer behind us—what was his name again? —groaned, “I think I’m going to be sick.” He ran toward the lobby, crashing into the wall a couple times. I didn’t see him come back. It was too dark to look for his name in my folded program.

The orchestra began with one single note that gradually swelled into a blast of horns and percussion exploding into the air. My chest swelled as it always did at the beginning of an overture. It was like we were about to burst into the very heart and core of life, but of course, this time there was so much more at stake that my joy was dampened. The orchestra went in and out of grand and quiet moods, lilting and bold, until it rose to a flourish, and I knew the curtain was about to . . .

Slowly, the curtain parted in the center and the two pleated red-velvet sides slid to the edge of the stage, revealing small shacks with a grand house painted in the background. The lights grew brighter as chorus boys and girls in colorful peasant costumes wandered onto the stage singing. Gradually, they formed a line. I could hardly breathe. I was overwhelmed with the colors and the sounds of the voices melting into one another. Then the dancers in their own peasant costumes pirouetted over the breadth of the stage, preparing the way for Martin Van Ville. Martin, playing Juliana’s would-be husband,

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.