She has the most angelic voice
I’ve ever heard. It was cruel what I did, but I realized it was the only way I
could guarantee she would audition. Relying on Baron and Carmen wasn’t working.
She had left me no other choice.
And now I better understood the
source of her stage fright. It was less fear and more a reminder of a betrayal.
Helping her overcome it would be much more challenging than I’d anticipated; it
wouldn’t help she already distrusted me.
I had her, though. Gisele stood
up to me, pushed back. I still unnerved her for whatever reason, which fueled
her distrust. But when she ran from me this time, it wasn’t in fear.
The next day, I didn’t shadow
her; I didn’t even go to the campus. She was emotional—whether pissed off, sad,
or some harrowing combination of the two—and I preferred she work through it
without having to deal with me. I didn’t want to make things worse.
But as I sat reviewing the
musical, modernizing some of the dialogue, I couldn’t help but remember how she
had cried. Though I knew she had to be the lead—and her audition further proved
that—I wished there had been an easier way for her to realize that as well. Hurting
her wasn’t what I had intended to do. She had to be strong.
At this rate, I wasn’t sure
when would be a good time to tell her who was starring opposite her. The most
probable reaction would be quite dramatic.
No comments:
Post a Comment