Chapter Two
(Stephanie)
(Note: The Road Show is about members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Like every group, members of the Church have their own terms and lingo that may not be familiar to readers from other backgrounds. For this purpose, there is a glossary of terms and explanations which might need further explanation.)
“Steph? Stephanie, I’m home!” He shut the door and hung his jacket on the coat-rack by the door. He walked through the narrow hall into the living room and frowned at what he saw. The lights were off and the television was blasting songs from Beauty and the Beast. Three year-old Kayden was sitting six inches away from the screen and a few feet away from her, one year-old Morgan was in her walker banging on Elmo’s head. An enormous pile of DVDs were scattered at the base of the television.
“Kayden?” he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the television.
“Daddy!” Kayden jumped up and ran across the tiny room in her dirty pink pajamas, navigating her way lightly through the piles of toys and coloring books that covered the floor. He winced as her bare feet crushed graham crackers into the carpet. She threw herself into his arms. “Daddy can you play with me?”
He took a breath and then spoke in a cheerful voice. “Sure, Princess. In just a minute. Where’s mommy?”
“She’s in the bedroom.”
“How long has she been there?”
“For Beauty and the Beast, Lion King, and The Little Mermaid.”
“You watched all those movies today?”
“Yes, and more. Mommy let me. She was tired. Daddy, why does mommy cry all the time?”
“I don’t know Princess. Don’t worry about it. Have you had anything to eat?”
“Yes. Mommy gave us crackers and Cheerios. I think Morgan’s stinky.”
“Princess, why don’t you go get some clothes on and then me and you and Morgan will go get some food and play. Let me go and say ‘hi’ to Mommy.” He stopped by Morgan’s walker. Yes, she needed to be changed. “Hey, Munchkin, hold on for a minute.” He tickled her chin and she laughed.
He walked to the bedroom, picking his way over more toys. How can such a small apartment possibly hold so many toys? He took a deep breath, trying to push the frustration down. He paused at the door, and his jaw clenched, then unclenched. His shoulders were tight. “Steph?” There was tension in his voice. He took a breath, opened the door and spoke again, pitching his voice to sound soft and supportive. “Stephanie, are you OK?”
The room was dark and she was kneeling by the bed, crying softly. He waited a minute and his shoulders relaxed slightly. He put his hand on her shoulder, touching her gently and tentatively. “Steph? Bad day?”
She nodded without looking up and so didn’t see his lips tighten and jaw clench for a moment.
“I’m going to take the girls and get a bite to eat. Just rest. We’ll be back in a little bit and I’ll get the house straightened up. Do you want anything?”
She shook her head “no.”
He left and shut the door softly.
Through the door, she heard him turn his cheerful voice back on. “OK! Who’s ready to go play at McDonald’s?”
“Meeeeee!” Kayden squealed. From her walker, Morgan did her best to imitate her sister. “OK, let me change Morgan and then we’ll go. Come on, Pipsqueak,” he said as he lifted Morgan out of the walker.
Inside the bedroom, Stephanie heard the front door close. She took a deep breath and then finished her anguished prayer. “Amen.” She put her head in her hands and noticed just how greasy her hair felt. Again. I’ll have a few minutes before Jake and the girls get back. At least I can take a shower without having to worry about the girls destroying something or getting hurt.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in, but the warm water and the unbroken quiet were soothing. She relished knowing that there was no one outside calling for her. She smiled for the first time that day. Jake is so sweet to take the girls. She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered that he had midterms in some of his classes the next morning. He really should be studying, not picking up my slack, not doing what I should be doing. What every other Mormon mother does just fine without losing it and being overwhelmed. How come some women can perfectly manage families of six and seven and I am totally unhinged by just two? There is something seriously wrong with me.
She was jolted out of guilt by a sudden blast of cold water. She stepped back and sighed deeply. The hot water heater. Again. The landlord promised…she shivered and forced her head under the cold water to rinse out the last of the shampoo. Quickly, she grabbed a towel, stepped out, and dressed in clean clothes--Good thing Jake did the laundry last night, or there wouldn’t be anything—and started brushing her long hair.
As she stared in the mirror, memories rushed back to her: voices laughing and a thick sense of nervous excitement. She was looking in another mirror, surrounded by bright light bulbs, applying the last of bit of base. She picked up a small, coarse sponge and made some smudges and streaks on her face, then checked the sketch that was taped to the mirror in front of her and nodded. Finally, she patted a few of the stray curls from her wig into place.
A great big grin burst out on her face and she had to restrain a giggle. She could hardly believe it. Could life be any more perfect? Walking back into the locker room, she removed the elegant engagement ring that had just found its way onto her finger. “I’ll put you right back on after the show!” She whispered and gave it a quick kiss.
Carefully, she changed out of her street clothes and into the artfully distressed blue dress. She pulled on some old high-heeled boots and then a shabby tweed coat. She checked to make sure the small receiver of the microphone was securely pinned to the side of her wig and then crowned herself with a battered straw hat garnished with some ridiculous flowers.
Finished. She nodded primly, then giggled like a little girl and indulged in another enormous grin. She stood up and left the dressing room just as a four other young women entered.
“Wow, Steph, you look great! The perfect Eliza Doolittle.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Are you way early or did I miss something?” one of the other girls said.
“I was just excited,” she replied. “See you in a bit.” She walked past them out into the greenroom and up the back stairs. She emerged backstage and walked to the prop table. Her heels clacked smartly on the hard stage floor and resonated up into the fly loft. At the prop table, she checked twice to make sure everything was in place. Then, she stepped out of the wings and onto the stage. A few members of the stage crew were adjusting some scenery pieces. One of them was sweeping the stage. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and then looked out into the vast, empty auditorium. She sighed deeply and hugged herself tightly. The De Jong Concert Hall! At BYU! Here she was, in the De Jong, ready for opening night in the leading role of her favorite play. Could life be any better?
She wandered around the stage in sheer bliss, just living and feeling it all. One of her favorite scriptures talked about joy being full. Surrounded by the sights and sounds that she loved so much, that described her. Heavenly Father, thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. I’m so excited and it means so much to me. Please help me to do my best tonight. She looked down at her now empty-ring finger. And thanks for sending Jake!
She smile-giggled again. It was almost too much! My career is really starting to happen, I’m engaged to the perfect guy…every dream is coming true.
At cast call, the director gave some last minute notes, they had a prayer, did some warm-ups, and then the stage manager called places. Stephanie grabbed her basket of flowers and sat down next to one of the massive pillars. The lights dimmed, and in front of the curtain, the orchestra started the overture.
She knew every note by heart, and she hummed along softly, before stopping to fight back a few tears. Chills danced up and down her spine. Ever since she was a little girl, she had adored My Fair Lady. She’d sung along with the CD, memorized the movie, and had grown up imitating Audrey Hepburn’s plucky cockney accent. Now it’s my turn.
The overture ended with a French horn fanfare and the curtains opened. A thrill of excitement and energy crackled through the air as the audience applauded their first view of the spectacular set. She was up on her feet selling flowers now….
Back in the tiny bathroom, she smiled in the mirror. That was one of her favorite memories. It had been the highlight of her life. She frowned. It’s pretty sad that something in college was the highlight of my life. What about now?
She finished brushing her hair and went back into the tiny, untidy bedroom. She reached under the bed and pulled out a large photo album. The cover was a quilted pink floral print—the relic of an old Homemaking meeting. The album had been a gift from her mother when she starred in the Kindergarten play.
She opened the cover and looked at a program from The Wizard of Oz. She smiled as she turned the page and saw herself as Toto in a furry, black dog suit. She browsed through pages and pages of treasures—photographs, signed programs, notes from special people, even the pressed remains of the bouquets her father had always given her on opening nights. There were award certificates and press clippings. Hundreds of pages. She had been the star. Singing and acting and dancing. Her future had been bright—limitless.
And now…she shut the book. She wanted to cry, but the tears were exhausted. She was just numb. Empty and tired and numb.
She heard the front door open. Jake and the girls walked in, singing at the top of their lungs, “Hakuna Matata, Hakuna Matata.” Jake made up in spirit what he lacked in pitch. Kayden actually had a very pretty voice.
“Thanks for singing, Daddy.” Kayden’s voice carried through the door. “Mommy doesn’t like it when we do.”
Stephanie winced. Outside, there was a slight pause.
“Well, sometimes Mommy gets really tired and that makes it hard.” Jake’s voice was calm and reassuring. “OK, let’s see how fast you can get in bed. If your teeth are brushed and your prayers all said in five minutes, I’ll read you two stories.” The girls shrieked with delight and she heard four small feet patter down the hall to the bathroom.
Stephanie lingered over one of the last pages in her album. It was a large group photograph of the BYU Young Ambassadors, gathered in front of Buckingham Palace. All the members of the group had signed the picture, but her eye stole to one particular signature: “Steph, Keep a song in your heart and that great smile on your face, Love Always, Clint!!!” Clint. Tall. Handsome. Blonde. A gleaming smile and a slightly dangerous air. According to his last Christmas card, he was performing on Broadway and had recently had a major break. Clint. Smiling, flirtatious, slightly dangerous Clint. They’d flirted and he had pursued her—and if he had proposed marriage, she would have accepted in a heartbeat.
What would that be like? She pictured an elegant apartment near Central Park, or a contemporary loft in a trendy part of Brooklyn. Singing and dancing on Broadway every night: the music, the applause, a late dinner at the restaurants where actors hung out, sleeping until noon, lunch at small, exotic restaurants in Greenwich Village. No noise, no graham crackers ground in the carpet, no loud children singing Disney songs…. She and Clint, young and in love without the distractions of children and school…. I shouldn’t be thinking this. She gave the image a half-hearted shake out of her mind. She felt guilty for indulging these thoughts, but continued all the same.
“Steph?” Jake’s tentative voice outside the bedroom door yanked her back to the present. “Can I come in?” How like Jake to ask my permission. She found herself a little annoyed at his consideration, his endless, solid kindness and reliability. “Sure,” she said softly, shutting the album. The doorknob turned and the squeaky hinges groaned.
“I brought you something to eat,” Jake said. There was tension in his voice but he came over and kissed her cheek and gave her a hug. The hug was more of a question than anything else and she returned it, automatically and limply, without answering the question. He took a small step away from her, then handed her a paper bag from the deli next to McDonald’s. She could smell the dressing on her favorite veggie sandwich through the bag. “Thanks,” she said numbly. There was an awkward silence for a moment.
“Steph, do you want to talk?” She looked at Jake. He was calm and steady as usual. His voice was soft and level but in his eyes she saw something new. What is it? Confusion, but something more. Fear? It struck her rather forcefully that he was afraid. Terrified of what was happening to her, to their family.
She felt badly for him and thought about talking, but what she felt was not right, not what a young LDS mother should feel. How can I tell him? What can I tell him? “I’m sorry Jake, you married a loser. I am a terrible person. I’m empty inside. I’m tired. I can’t do anything right. I can’t even keep a tiny apartment clean.” Or, even worse: “It was probably a mistake to marry you and start a family. Sorry that I didn’t turn out to be who you thought I was—who I thought I was. You’d all be so much better off without me. I should just leave as soon as you can arrange for your mom to come watch the girls.” And, something so terrible she barely dared even think it: Would I be better off alone?
All she could manage to say was, “No.”
“OK,” he said. His voice was chilly. He paused for a moment and his voice warmed up. “I love you. I’m going to go study for my contracts test tomorrow. I’ll probably be up late, so don’t wait up.” He kissed her softly on the head and left the room. Before the door closed, she managed to mumble, “Thanks for the sandwich.”
She opened the bag, unwrapped the sandwich, and forced herself to eat it. Normally, she would have enjoyed it. Tonight, it tasted like cardboard. Everything around her tasted or looked or smelled or felt like cardboard. A pang of regret pricked briefly through the thick numbness. Jake will do the dishes, the laundry and pick up the toys. When the housework’s all done he’ll study. She felt guilty for a moment, and then she only felt tired. Overwhelmingly, achingly, deeply tired.
Click here for Chapter Three.
If you want to buy the book, click here.
“Steph? Stephanie, I’m home!” He shut the door and hung his jacket on the coat-rack by the door. He walked through the narrow hall into the living room and frowned at what he saw. The lights were off and the television was blasting songs from Beauty and the Beast. Three year-old Kayden was sitting six inches away from the screen and a few feet away from her, one year-old Morgan was in her walker banging on Elmo’s head. An enormous pile of DVDs were scattered at the base of the television.
“Kayden?” he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the television.
“Daddy!” Kayden jumped up and ran across the tiny room in her dirty pink pajamas, navigating her way lightly through the piles of toys and coloring books that covered the floor. He winced as her bare feet crushed graham crackers into the carpet. She threw herself into his arms. “Daddy can you play with me?”
He took a breath and then spoke in a cheerful voice. “Sure, Princess. In just a minute. Where’s mommy?”
“She’s in the bedroom.”
“How long has she been there?”
“For Beauty and the Beast, Lion King, and The Little Mermaid.”
“You watched all those movies today?”
“Yes, and more. Mommy let me. She was tired. Daddy, why does mommy cry all the time?”
“I don’t know Princess. Don’t worry about it. Have you had anything to eat?”
“Yes. Mommy gave us crackers and Cheerios. I think Morgan’s stinky.”
“Princess, why don’t you go get some clothes on and then me and you and Morgan will go get some food and play. Let me go and say ‘hi’ to Mommy.” He stopped by Morgan’s walker. Yes, she needed to be changed. “Hey, Munchkin, hold on for a minute.” He tickled her chin and she laughed.
He walked to the bedroom, picking his way over more toys. How can such a small apartment possibly hold so many toys? He took a deep breath, trying to push the frustration down. He paused at the door, and his jaw clenched, then unclenched. His shoulders were tight. “Steph?” There was tension in his voice. He took a breath, opened the door and spoke again, pitching his voice to sound soft and supportive. “Stephanie, are you OK?”
The room was dark and she was kneeling by the bed, crying softly. He waited a minute and his shoulders relaxed slightly. He put his hand on her shoulder, touching her gently and tentatively. “Steph? Bad day?”
She nodded without looking up and so didn’t see his lips tighten and jaw clench for a moment.
“I’m going to take the girls and get a bite to eat. Just rest. We’ll be back in a little bit and I’ll get the house straightened up. Do you want anything?”
She shook her head “no.”
He left and shut the door softly.
Through the door, she heard him turn his cheerful voice back on. “OK! Who’s ready to go play at McDonald’s?”
“Meeeeee!” Kayden squealed. From her walker, Morgan did her best to imitate her sister. “OK, let me change Morgan and then we’ll go. Come on, Pipsqueak,” he said as he lifted Morgan out of the walker.
Inside the bedroom, Stephanie heard the front door close. She took a deep breath and then finished her anguished prayer. “Amen.” She put her head in her hands and noticed just how greasy her hair felt. Again. I’ll have a few minutes before Jake and the girls get back. At least I can take a shower without having to worry about the girls destroying something or getting hurt.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in, but the warm water and the unbroken quiet were soothing. She relished knowing that there was no one outside calling for her. She smiled for the first time that day. Jake is so sweet to take the girls. She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered that he had midterms in some of his classes the next morning. He really should be studying, not picking up my slack, not doing what I should be doing. What every other Mormon mother does just fine without losing it and being overwhelmed. How come some women can perfectly manage families of six and seven and I am totally unhinged by just two? There is something seriously wrong with me.
She was jolted out of guilt by a sudden blast of cold water. She stepped back and sighed deeply. The hot water heater. Again. The landlord promised…she shivered and forced her head under the cold water to rinse out the last of the shampoo. Quickly, she grabbed a towel, stepped out, and dressed in clean clothes--Good thing Jake did the laundry last night, or there wouldn’t be anything—and started brushing her long hair.
As she stared in the mirror, memories rushed back to her: voices laughing and a thick sense of nervous excitement. She was looking in another mirror, surrounded by bright light bulbs, applying the last of bit of base. She picked up a small, coarse sponge and made some smudges and streaks on her face, then checked the sketch that was taped to the mirror in front of her and nodded. Finally, she patted a few of the stray curls from her wig into place.
A great big grin burst out on her face and she had to restrain a giggle. She could hardly believe it. Could life be any more perfect? Walking back into the locker room, she removed the elegant engagement ring that had just found its way onto her finger. “I’ll put you right back on after the show!” She whispered and gave it a quick kiss.
Carefully, she changed out of her street clothes and into the artfully distressed blue dress. She pulled on some old high-heeled boots and then a shabby tweed coat. She checked to make sure the small receiver of the microphone was securely pinned to the side of her wig and then crowned herself with a battered straw hat garnished with some ridiculous flowers.
Finished. She nodded primly, then giggled like a little girl and indulged in another enormous grin. She stood up and left the dressing room just as a four other young women entered.
“Wow, Steph, you look great! The perfect Eliza Doolittle.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Are you way early or did I miss something?” one of the other girls said.
“I was just excited,” she replied. “See you in a bit.” She walked past them out into the greenroom and up the back stairs. She emerged backstage and walked to the prop table. Her heels clacked smartly on the hard stage floor and resonated up into the fly loft. At the prop table, she checked twice to make sure everything was in place. Then, she stepped out of the wings and onto the stage. A few members of the stage crew were adjusting some scenery pieces. One of them was sweeping the stage. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and then looked out into the vast, empty auditorium. She sighed deeply and hugged herself tightly. The De Jong Concert Hall! At BYU! Here she was, in the De Jong, ready for opening night in the leading role of her favorite play. Could life be any better?
She wandered around the stage in sheer bliss, just living and feeling it all. One of her favorite scriptures talked about joy being full. Surrounded by the sights and sounds that she loved so much, that described her. Heavenly Father, thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. I’m so excited and it means so much to me. Please help me to do my best tonight. She looked down at her now empty-ring finger. And thanks for sending Jake!
She smile-giggled again. It was almost too much! My career is really starting to happen, I’m engaged to the perfect guy…every dream is coming true.
At cast call, the director gave some last minute notes, they had a prayer, did some warm-ups, and then the stage manager called places. Stephanie grabbed her basket of flowers and sat down next to one of the massive pillars. The lights dimmed, and in front of the curtain, the orchestra started the overture.
She knew every note by heart, and she hummed along softly, before stopping to fight back a few tears. Chills danced up and down her spine. Ever since she was a little girl, she had adored My Fair Lady. She’d sung along with the CD, memorized the movie, and had grown up imitating Audrey Hepburn’s plucky cockney accent. Now it’s my turn.
The overture ended with a French horn fanfare and the curtains opened. A thrill of excitement and energy crackled through the air as the audience applauded their first view of the spectacular set. She was up on her feet selling flowers now….
Back in the tiny bathroom, she smiled in the mirror. That was one of her favorite memories. It had been the highlight of her life. She frowned. It’s pretty sad that something in college was the highlight of my life. What about now?
She finished brushing her hair and went back into the tiny, untidy bedroom. She reached under the bed and pulled out a large photo album. The cover was a quilted pink floral print—the relic of an old Homemaking meeting. The album had been a gift from her mother when she starred in the Kindergarten play.
She opened the cover and looked at a program from The Wizard of Oz. She smiled as she turned the page and saw herself as Toto in a furry, black dog suit. She browsed through pages and pages of treasures—photographs, signed programs, notes from special people, even the pressed remains of the bouquets her father had always given her on opening nights. There were award certificates and press clippings. Hundreds of pages. She had been the star. Singing and acting and dancing. Her future had been bright—limitless.
And now…she shut the book. She wanted to cry, but the tears were exhausted. She was just numb. Empty and tired and numb.
She heard the front door open. Jake and the girls walked in, singing at the top of their lungs, “Hakuna Matata, Hakuna Matata.” Jake made up in spirit what he lacked in pitch. Kayden actually had a very pretty voice.
“Thanks for singing, Daddy.” Kayden’s voice carried through the door. “Mommy doesn’t like it when we do.”
Stephanie winced. Outside, there was a slight pause.
“Well, sometimes Mommy gets really tired and that makes it hard.” Jake’s voice was calm and reassuring. “OK, let’s see how fast you can get in bed. If your teeth are brushed and your prayers all said in five minutes, I’ll read you two stories.” The girls shrieked with delight and she heard four small feet patter down the hall to the bathroom.
Stephanie lingered over one of the last pages in her album. It was a large group photograph of the BYU Young Ambassadors, gathered in front of Buckingham Palace. All the members of the group had signed the picture, but her eye stole to one particular signature: “Steph, Keep a song in your heart and that great smile on your face, Love Always, Clint!!!” Clint. Tall. Handsome. Blonde. A gleaming smile and a slightly dangerous air. According to his last Christmas card, he was performing on Broadway and had recently had a major break. Clint. Smiling, flirtatious, slightly dangerous Clint. They’d flirted and he had pursued her—and if he had proposed marriage, she would have accepted in a heartbeat.
What would that be like? She pictured an elegant apartment near Central Park, or a contemporary loft in a trendy part of Brooklyn. Singing and dancing on Broadway every night: the music, the applause, a late dinner at the restaurants where actors hung out, sleeping until noon, lunch at small, exotic restaurants in Greenwich Village. No noise, no graham crackers ground in the carpet, no loud children singing Disney songs…. She and Clint, young and in love without the distractions of children and school…. I shouldn’t be thinking this. She gave the image a half-hearted shake out of her mind. She felt guilty for indulging these thoughts, but continued all the same.
“Steph?” Jake’s tentative voice outside the bedroom door yanked her back to the present. “Can I come in?” How like Jake to ask my permission. She found herself a little annoyed at his consideration, his endless, solid kindness and reliability. “Sure,” she said softly, shutting the album. The doorknob turned and the squeaky hinges groaned.
“I brought you something to eat,” Jake said. There was tension in his voice but he came over and kissed her cheek and gave her a hug. The hug was more of a question than anything else and she returned it, automatically and limply, without answering the question. He took a small step away from her, then handed her a paper bag from the deli next to McDonald’s. She could smell the dressing on her favorite veggie sandwich through the bag. “Thanks,” she said numbly. There was an awkward silence for a moment.
“Steph, do you want to talk?” She looked at Jake. He was calm and steady as usual. His voice was soft and level but in his eyes she saw something new. What is it? Confusion, but something more. Fear? It struck her rather forcefully that he was afraid. Terrified of what was happening to her, to their family.
She felt badly for him and thought about talking, but what she felt was not right, not what a young LDS mother should feel. How can I tell him? What can I tell him? “I’m sorry Jake, you married a loser. I am a terrible person. I’m empty inside. I’m tired. I can’t do anything right. I can’t even keep a tiny apartment clean.” Or, even worse: “It was probably a mistake to marry you and start a family. Sorry that I didn’t turn out to be who you thought I was—who I thought I was. You’d all be so much better off without me. I should just leave as soon as you can arrange for your mom to come watch the girls.” And, something so terrible she barely dared even think it: Would I be better off alone?
All she could manage to say was, “No.”
“OK,” he said. His voice was chilly. He paused for a moment and his voice warmed up. “I love you. I’m going to go study for my contracts test tomorrow. I’ll probably be up late, so don’t wait up.” He kissed her softly on the head and left the room. Before the door closed, she managed to mumble, “Thanks for the sandwich.”
She opened the bag, unwrapped the sandwich, and forced herself to eat it. Normally, she would have enjoyed it. Tonight, it tasted like cardboard. Everything around her tasted or looked or smelled or felt like cardboard. A pang of regret pricked briefly through the thick numbness. Jake will do the dishes, the laundry and pick up the toys. When the housework’s all done he’ll study. She felt guilty for a moment, and then she only felt tired. Overwhelmingly, achingly, deeply tired.
Click here for Chapter Three.
If you want to buy the book, click here.