Part 25 (1/2)

”One more, Helen,” someone yelled.

”Oh, no. One-shot deal. Thanks, but I'm glad it's over with.”

One by one, the cast and crew came onto the stage as they were introduced. Each name produced a person, each person voiced a declaration, and each declaration received a burst of applause.

”I'm a member of the gay community,” Phil said as he walked out with Nick's hand squeezed into his.

Nick had replaced his suit jacket and s.h.i.+rt with a T-s.h.i.+rt that pointed toward Phil. The s.h.i.+rt read, ”I'm With Him.”

”I'm a lesbian,” Marty said. ”Woo-hooo! Freedom!”

”There go my ratings,” Mark joked.

They went down the line, each proud to be part of the evening's events. They strutted and grinned. Nearly wrecked with nerves, Jenny held on tightly to Marty. Kim smiled, and finally, all the members of the troupe gathered behind Helen, her cane, and her dais.

By rote, Helen delivered a final speech, while her eyes searched for Cory.

”...higher levels of consciousness...raise the collective conscious...” Where are you, baby? ”...travel home safely.”

Before she could blink, before the audience could stand, Helen heard another voice from the auditorium.

”Helen.”

There was no mistaking who owned the sound. Goose b.u.mps erupted on every inch of Helen's body. The audience looked around, trying to find the person who spoke. Helen knew the source but not her location. Somewhere in that dark, cavernous room sat a small, fearful woman, a knight out of armor, who allowed courage to destroy her fear.

”Yes?” Helen asked while the house lights became their brightest.

”May I join you on stage?”

Helen saw all heads turn toward the woman on the end of the tenth row, left of center. Eyes that could be judging, changing their minds; eyes that could connect with Boston and change their minds as well.

”Yes,” Helen said and looked to Marty. Marty gave an excited, quiet clap.

Cory made her way down the aisle while a stagehand wheeled out a set of steps.

”Cory Chamberlain,” someone said.

The auditorium was quiet while Cory ascended the steps one by one. Helen heard only the slow clicking of Cory's shoe heels as she made her way closer.

Cory looked toward the group she had once been a part of and then walked to Helen. She covered the microphone with her hand.

”The sonata was lovely. I'm proud of you.”

”Thank you,” Helen said weakly, and wanted to cry. How could she have hit Cory and then accept her pride? Helen didn't deserve her. Chamberlain was a solo act. Give her the stage. It's always been hers.

”Ladies and gentlemen,” Helen managed to say. ”We have a final guest. Coryell Chamberlain.” Helen stepped away from the dais and retreated to the wing as Cory approached the mic. The applause subsided.

”Good evening. Behind me stand my friends. What they did tonight...”

Helen's thoughts responded. Who did your braid tonight, baby?

”I met Helen...”

Met me, loved me, left me. I'm sorry I hit you. You're wearing blue again. You know how I love you in blue.

”...let my hair down...”

Cory reached to the back of her head, pulled out two pins, and gracefully shook her hair free to expose a cla.s.sy new shoulder-length cut. Helen smiled. You look wonderful, baby. My incredible edible. Just kind of shake it around a little for me. Cory turned her head toward Helen.

”...and apologize.” Cory extended her hand toward the wing. ”Will you be with me on stage, Helen?”

Helen couldn't move. She wanted to run to Cory, squeeze her tightly, smother her in kisses and say, ”h.e.l.l, yeah, I'll join you on stage, or in the Jacuzzi if you'll have me.” In a heartbeat I would, but, baby, someone nailed my feet to the floor.