I just knew that they would be able to spot me as a boy in drag. They would sure notice I was a little too tall or I didn't walk right. Maybe my shoulders were a touch too wide and my hips a bit too narrow. Hundreds of little incongruities fluttered through my mind and I braced myself for impact.Mom tried asking me questions, but I was only half listening. My eyes were darting around looking for any sign that there'd be trouble. No one seemed to notice me. I didn't get as much as a second look from anyone. A minute passed by and no alarms were sounded. Two minutes passed with nothing. The tension in my neck and shoulders gradually started to relax as I realized that everyone merely saw me as the girl I wanted to be.The breath I had been subconsciously hold escaped. Mom turned and looked at me. "Julie, you OK, Hon?" Yeah, I am now," I replied thinking that I had just passed some kind of test, "what's with Julie?" Just trying something. Julia sounds a bit formal and Jules doesn't seem. They were even laughing at some of the dated jokes that should have gotten a mere eyeroll.The band was playing. The cast had done the curtain call, and the curtains had closed. The audience continued to clap.“Russ, should we do another curtain call?” asked Luke, our lead actor.I pondered it, when Gilbert, who was standing next to me in the wings said, “Always leave them wanting more.”I laughed. “Nope! We’re good. You can head out to the reception. Be back here tomorrow at noon.”Rivermeadow’s show schedule was always the same. Opening night was Friday, followed by a light reception in the hall off the lobby, where folks could mingle with the cast in costume. Saturday saw a matinee and final performance, followed by the cast party. Sunday, we strike the set and return to our miserable lives until the next show begins.The reception hall is a harshly bright room with white walls and white floors and a white table with some cheese and crackers and grapes on toothpicks and popcorn and.
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