Over the Moon

A May-hem Broadway story...

Mina Howell

art prompt

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The call came at 4:49 PM.

Audra Lymon was folding programs in the cramped basement office of the Majestic Theatre when her phone buzzed against the metal desk. She almost didn't answer. It was a creditor or her mother asking when she'd give up this "Broadway nonsense" and come back home to Ohio. She rolled her eyes, prepared for her mom.

"Audra? This is Rita from company management. Where are you right now?"

Her stomach dropped. In eight months of understudying the ingénue role in "Over the Moon," she'd never gotten the call. Melissa McClean, the lead, was Broadway reliable. The kind of performer who showed up with laryngitis and delivered a flawless performance, reliable.

"I'm... I'm in the building. Is everything okay?"

"Melissa's in the ER with food poisoning. At least, we hope just food poisoning. You're on tonight. Be in hair and makeup in thirty minutes?"

The phone slipped from Audra's fingers. It clattered onto the concrete floor. Eight months of watching from the wings. Eight months of knowing every breath, every gesture, every lighting cue. Eight months of dreaming, and now it was here, and now her lungs forgot how to function.

"Audra? Are you there?"

"Yes!” She yelled to the floor & scrambled for her phone. “Yes, I'm here. I'll be right up."

Thirty-seven minutes later, Audra sat in Dressing Room One. The dressing room. The star on the door dressing room. Mirrors surrounded by those Hollywood-style bulbs dressing room. The makeup artist, a tiny woman named Rochelle who'd been doing Broadway faces since the seventies, worked with practiced efficiency while Audra tried not to hyperventilate.

"Breathe, honey," Rochelle murmured. She applied foundation with swift strokes. "You know this role backwards and forwards. I've watched you lip sync every single performance from the wings."

Heat flooded Audra's cheeks.

"Besides," Rochelle continued, "Tilly specifically requested they put you on. Said you were ready."

"Tilly St. James knows who I am?"

Rochelle's brush paused. "Sugar, Tilly knows everyone in this building."

Audra's reflection stared back at her. In two hours, she'd be standing center stage at the Majestic Theatre, performing opposite Broadway royalty. Tilly St. James had been winning Tony Awards since before Audra was born. Her voice could make angels weep and demons repent. She was everything Audra dreamed of when she'd left her small Ohio town.

A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. "Come in," Rochelle called.

The door opened, and there she was. Tilly St. James. Broadway Royalty. Appearing smaller than she appeared on stage but radiating that magnetic presence that could fill any theater. Her silver hair was already pinned up for her first-act wig. She wore ‘effortless elegance style’ even in a robe & pinned up, pre-wig hair.

"How are we doing in here?" Tilly's voice carried a warmth that made audiences lean forward in their seats.

"Just fine," Rochelle answered. "Give us another twenty minutes and she'll be ready to knock 'em dead."

Tilly's eyes met Rochelle's in the mirror. "Mind if I steal her for just a moment?"

Rochelle stepped back & gathered her brushes. "I'll go grab her costume. Back in ten."

Alone with her idol, Audra felt the weight of every inadequacy she'd ever harbored. She turned in her chair, aware of how young she looked. Inexperienced. Completely out of her league.

"I wanted to check on you," Tilly said, settling into the chair beside her. "First time on this stage?"

"First time on any Broadway stage." The words tumbled out before Audra could stop them. "I mean, I did regional theater back home, and some showcases, but nothing like… this. Nothing like performing with..." She gestured helplessly at Tilly.

"With an old broad who's been doing this since the Eisenhower administration?"

Despite her nerves, Audra laughed. "That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant." Tilly's smile was understanding. "Can I tell you something? I threw up before my Broadway debut. Right into a trash can in the wings. Ten minutes before curtain."

"You did not."

"Cross my heart. Ask anyone who was there. Well, anyone who's still alive." Tilly's eyes crinkled with humor. "The fear never really goes away, you know. It just changes. First you're afraid of forgetting your lines. Then you're afraid of disappointing people. Then you're afraid of not being as good as you used to be."

Audra studied Tilly's face. Tilly St. James appeared as composed as ever. Her posture perfect, her voice steady.

"How do you handle it? The fear?"

Tilly was quiet for a long moment. "I remind myself why I started doing this in the first place. It wasn't for the reviews or the awards or even the applause. Though those are nice. It was because there's something magical that happens when you connect with another person through story. Through song. That connection makes it worth it."

She reached over and squeezed Audra's hand. "You've got good instincts. I've been watching you in rehearsals, watching how you react to the other actors even from the wings. Trust those instincts tonight. Don't try to be me or Melissa or anyone else. Just be Audra, telling the story."

Before Audra could respond, Rochelle returned with the first-act costume. A flowing dress in midnight blue that would transform under the stage lights. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of final costume fittings, vocal warm-ups, and the ritual of a theater coming alive before a performance.

At places, Audra stood in the wings beside Tilly, both of them in full costume and makeup. The veteran performer looked regal in her character's elaborate gown. Every inch the celebrated actress who had commanded Broadway stages for three decades. But when she thought no one was looking, Audra caught her taking deep breaths. Rolling her shoulders and whispering under her breath. A prayer?

The realization hit her like a spotlight to the face: Tilly St. James was nervous too.

The first act passed in a dream. Audra hit her marks, delivered her lines, and somehow managed not to trip over the elaborate set pieces. But she was disconnected from it all. As if she were watching someone else play the role she'd studied for months. She was technically perfect. Emotionally absent.

During intermission, she sat in the star dressing room, staring at her reflection and fighting back tears of frustration. She'd gotten her big break. Her once-in-a-lifetime chance. She was blowing it by playing it safe.

Another knock at the door. This time, Tilly entered without waiting for permission.

"Rough first act?" she asked, settling into the chair beside Audra.

"I was terrible. Technically fine, maybe? But terrible."

"You're scared. There's a difference.” Tilly relaxed back in the chair, “Truth be told, I've been thinking about retiring after this run."

The admission hung in the air between them.

"Why?"

"Oh honey, I've been phoning it in for the last two years," Tilly said quietly. "Going through the motions. Hitting my marks and delivering my lines exactly the same way every night. Safe. Predictable. Dead." She looked at Audra in the mirror. "Watching you tonight, seeing how much you care about getting it right, it reminded me of something I'd forgotten."

"What's that?"

"That the audience doesn't want perfection. They want truth. They want to feel something real. Even if it's messy or unexpected." Tilly turned to face her directly. "Our big duet in the second act, 'Reaching for Stars', forget everything you've rehearsed. Forget what Melissa does, forget what you think I want. Just listen to me up there. Really listen. Respond to what you hear. Can you do that?"

Audra's throat felt tight. "What if I mess up?"

"Then we'll mess up together." Tilly's smile was radiant. "That's what partnerships are about."

Audra still felt the familiar flutter of nerves, but her heart had shifted into, anticipation? When her entrance cue came, she didn't just walk onto the stage; she stepped into the story.

The audience noticed immediately. Where the first act had been competent, the second act crackled to life. Audra found herself responding to her scene partners in ways she'd never explored during rehearsals. Discovering new moments, new truths, all within familiar dialogue.

And then came "Reaching for Stars."

The emotional climax of the show. A soaring duet between the young dreamer and the woman who had achieved everything the girl hoped. This was Tilly's signature song. The moment that won her a Tony Award.

Tilly began to sing, but her voice was different. Vulnerable. Raw. Instead of the polished perfection Audra had heard night after night from the wings, Tilly was singing like someone discovering the song for the very first time.

"I've been reaching for stars so long, I forgot to look down..."

The lyrics took on a new meaning. This wasn't just a song about ambition and dreams. Connection, about the wisdom that comes from helping others reach their own dreams.

When her verse came, Audra didn't think about technique or breath support or hitting the high notes. She sang about her journey, her fears, her hopes, all from her soul. She sang to Tilly. Not to the audience. This was their moment, together.

"Maybe stars aren't meant to be tamed, or followed..."

As their voices blended in harmony, magic happened. The boundaries between performer and audience, between young and old, between fear and hope, seemed to dissolve. Audra felt connected. To Tilly, to every person in that theater, and to a secret part of herself she hid away.

The song built to its climax, both women's voices soared like a prayer. When the final note faded, the silence that followed was profound. Sacred.

45 eternal seconds of absolute silence.

The audience burst to their feet as one. Cheers, whistles & an explosion of applause erupted. Recognition of something real. Something shared.

Tilly reached for her hand, and they took their bow. Together. Tilly leaned close enough to whisper in her ear."That," she said, "was magic."

Later, as they removed their makeup side by side in the star dressing room, Tilly broke the comfortable silence.

"I've changed my mind about retiring," she said.

"Because of tonight?"

"Because of you. You've got something special, kid. Don't let anyone convince you to play it safe. You woke part of me up again, just by you being you. Thank you.”

The moon hung over Broadway like a spotlight as Audra walked home. Her heart & her soul forever imbued with storyteller magic. Connection to another soul through song. Her gift. She wanted to share it now more than ever.