Illyria by Elizabeth Hand Page B

His eyes closed as the last notes echoed through the house. The spotlight went out; the auditorium plunged into darkness. His voice hung there still. I shut my eyes and felt him beside me, felt his mouth on mine and his breath warm against my cheek.
    The lights went up in such a sudden blaze that everyone backstage started, then laughed nervously. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.
    "Places for curtain call!"
    The auditorium remained silent. Then, as the curtain parted, a roar of clapping and shouting and catcalls swept over us.
    We all got our applause. Lovers, Puritan, knights and Captain and soldiers and attendants.
    But it was Rogan's show. No one had ever doubted that, not since he'd first stepped onstage. He took one bow, then another; the curtains closed, then opened again, and we all ran back out for more calls. When the curtain closed for the last time, the drunken jocks chanted Rogan's name until he stepped out alone, front and center, his costume furred with dust and his golden hair wild around his white face.
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    He stared at the audience, elated, until someone put the house lights on. People shaded their eyes and looked around in confused delight. At last, they began to leave.
    Onstage actors ran around breathlessly, kissing and embracing. Sir Andrew and Sebastian clashed swords as Maria and Olivia fell into each other's arms, laughing as they wept.
    "You were so good!"
    "No, you were so good!"
    I went out front to receive congratulations from my parents. "Very nice, very nice," my father said. He kissed me absently on the forehead. "Do you need a ride home?"
    "No, there's a party, I'll get a ride later."
    "You did very well, Maddy," said my mother, and she hugged me. "We're very proud of you."
    I looked around for Rogan's parents. They stood stiffly with their son a few feet away, none of them talking, though it looked like I might have just missed something, an argument or maybe Rogan's announcement that he'd be at the after party.
    "Maddy?"
    I turned. Mr. Sullivan grinned at me, Aunt Kate at his side. "You were wonderful--you and Rogan both. Just super."
    "Thanks."
    "You did a lovely job, darling." Aunt Kate hugged me tightly, then kissed both of my cheeks. "And you--"
    She reached out to take Rogan by the hand and pulled him to us. I had a glimpse of my uncle's face, gray and unflinching, before he turned and walked out of the auditorium. Mr. Sullivan grasped Rogan's shoulder.
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    "You were amazing, Rogan. Just incredible." Mr. Sullivan threw his head back and laughed. "That voice!"
    Aunt Kate's nose wrinkled as she stared at the unlit cigarette in Rogan's hand. "That voice isn't going to last very long if Rogan doesn't take care of it."
    She smiled; but there was no warmth in the way she gazed at Rogan, even as she ruffled his hair and added, "You gave a hundred percent out there tonight, darling."
    His mouth twisted in a smile. "Two hundred percent."
    Aunt Kate looked at him as though this were part of some other conversation. "Just make sure you save something for tomorrow, sweetheart," she said lightly. "And Sunday. You have two more performances."
    Rogan shrugged. "Hey, I might not be here tomorrow. None of us might." He looked sideways at me and smiled. "You getting a ride with Dune?"
    I nodded.
    "Come on, then." He bent to kiss Aunt Kate's cheek, then saluted Mr. Sullivan. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. S."
    "No cigarettes!" Aunt Kate called after us. "Get a good night's sleep!"
    The party was like Christmas, an anticlimax. Still, we all stayed till 3 a.m ., getting high and passing around a gallon bottle of Almaden wine. Duncan Moss drove Rogan and me home, dropping us off at the top of Fairview's driveway.
    "Fare well, my metal of India," Duncan said, and gave me a sloppy
    kiss.
    "If he has an accident, you'll have to play Viola and Sebastian," said Rogan as we watched him drive off.
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    "Might be an improvement."
    Rogan shook his head. "Nothing could be an improvement."
    We stood with our arms wrapped