The noonday sun streams through the windows, and I’m so ecstatic over today’s news I feel like dancing, hopping from square to square.
My next-door neighbors probably think I’m crazy, but after listening to their loud wall-banging every other night for the past year, they can damn well listen to me celebrate a bit.
Especially for something this big.
And this is huge for me, finally a sign that I’m doing the right thing in chasing my dream.
I’ve gone to audition after audition and spent hours practicing lines, only to get turned down again and again.
Okay, I didn’t get turned down every time. I have scored a few small roles every now and then, but they were barely enough to keep the roof over my head in a city this expensive.
But it seems the one leading role I had in the way-off-Broadway production of Cleopatra that I was sure no one had even seen is actually paying off in a huge way.
When I’d gotten the call that the barely off-Broadway production of the same play was calling for a last-minute replacement, I’d been shocked. Actors don’t just lose roles like this, and even when they do, there’s an understudy waiting in the wings to take over.
But when the lead and the understudy get caught doing some rather bad things together, I guess it leaves a pretty gaping hole of opportunity. And the director had remembered my performance in the role.
Oh, God, let me say that again. She remembered me!
And now, I’m starring!
Me.
I jump onto my bed and fall back, bouncing on my ass a few times as my breath gushes out in a whoosh. “I did it, Carly! Can you believe it?”
I can hear her grin even through the thousands of miles between us. “Of course I can believe it! I’m the one who told you to ditch your ho-hum and chase your dreams. Seems like it’s working out for the both of us.”
She’s right.
Carly and I grew up together, private schools and debutante balls, privilege and wealth, which sounds like a dream come true.
We both knew how fortunate we were growing up, but coming from a family like that comes with expectations.
Lots of them. Plans are made for you, never taking into consideration that you might have some dreams of your own.
We’d both been good girls, not rocking the boat and always doing as our parents told us—good grades, attending the university they chose, representing the family at galas . . . all the upper-crust society shit.
Carly had even dated the guy her parents chose for her, like some modern-day arranged marriage between industry giants, but she had, at some point, decided she’d had enough.
She bailed on everything . . . except me. She dropped out school, broke up with the douchebag boyfriend, told her parents she wasn’t marrying for their business interests, and took off to Europe.
She’s been backpacking it ever since, initially using her trust fund, but when her parents tried to manipulate her with it, she eventually began truly making her own way in a smorgasbord of methods that was worthy of a whole documentary miniseries.
Since then, she’s been on a path of self-discovery and independence, living a carefree life, not having to answer to anyone for the first time ever, and more importantly, not being something she’s not to make someone else happy.
And I’d watched, awed at her gumption and guts and inspired to my own revolution, albeit on a smaller scale.
My only rebellion at the time had been to choose a major my parents detested.
I’d majored in Ancient Civilizations, probably the most useless degree in the world, according to my father, who wanted me to focus on something practical like business.
But I’d been a lover of ancient cultures my whole life, studying Greek mythology, Mayan ruins, Egyptian hieroglyphics, and more. As a little girl, I’d had to explain virtually every Halloween costume I’d worn. Yes, I know who Athena is, and of course, I know who Hera is. I had a habit of telling their history, relevance, and victories ad nauseam until people would just shove candy in my bag to get me to shut up.
Still, I had let one element of my fancy life affect my studies, as I’d loved focusing on the artifacts of the various time periods.
My mom had been slightly more understanding when I’d explained that the giddiness she got from diamonds, I got from ancient figurines and art.