Christine asked for more story when I mentioned the pictures I hung on our wall had a few of Travis and I in the Theater. So…
The summer I turned 18, I got the chance to be one of the Make Up Designers for our Community College summer musical, The Wizard of Oz. I got to do the make up for my gramma Rose, who was one of the wicked witch of the west’s cronies, as well as the make up for the Wicked Witch herself. I was bit. The theater will never leave my blood.
I liked being a Make Up artist so much, that I did it again. This time for the Community Theater through the college, only in the school year. I was going to school, and doing theater. Make Up ended up paying for my college. It was at the next play that I did Make Up for, I met Travis. He was also 18. We became best friends almost immediately. We spent a lot of time together. We ate lunch everyday together, went over his lines together, took acting class together, and spent our evenings backstage together. We flirted a lot, but very strongly denied to all our fellow actors who knew better, that we didn’t LIKE each other. Not THAT way. We did this for two years.
The last part of that second year, we talked about taking our friendship to “the next level”, but decided not to. Then Travis went to college in Ashland, OR. Before he left, he had changed his mind about being more than just friends, but I had a boyfriend by then. He visited all that year of school, and every time he came to visit, he asked me to be with him. Sooooooo… when said boyfriend (who was crappy, and just an excuse to stave off Travis) and I broke up, I knew that Travis would be there. I wrote him to tell him about BF and I.
He was there that weekend to claim me.
I’ve been his ever since.
Both of us would like very much to go back to the theater. I loved listening to the audience laugh when Travis delivered a funny line just right. I used to sit under the speaker at the make up counter with my eyes closed. The applause would rain down on my soul. I can smell the make up and hair spray, and the sweaty bodies. The black of the backstage swallows you whole, and you fight to find just the tiniest of light to see again. I miss the friends that loved us. Knew us. Better than we knew ourselves. They could see. That love was there. True love. I’m thankful for that theater. Without it’s nurturing, and cultivating, the life I have today would not be. So.
That’s my story. Our story. Look at us. We were just kids. My face is screwed up in all of the pictures we have because every time we got our pictures taken together, we would also get teased.