The Four-Minute Fantasy

This was it--the culmination of plans, hopes dreams, and hard work. She nervously patted her wig and smoothed her costume. She had waited three years for this night, for this opportunity, but at last it was hers. This was the night her long-held fantasy would come true.

The dream had begun in London...November, 1986. She had been frozen in her seat in the theatre, unable to stop weeping, unaware of the rest of the audience filing out, unaware of anything until an usher had gently touched her shoulder and whispered that she must go. She had managed to control herself then, sure that she was shocking the very proper British gentleman, and she had managed to make it back to her hotel room before she allowed herself to collapse in tears again. She was queueing for tickets long before dawn the next morning -and every day thereafter for the rest of her vacation. She saw nothing more of the city, but she saw the play six more times before she had to leave to return to New York. The pain never lessened. So much beauty. So much pain.

She went back to her own off-Broadway play--to her role in the chorus--and began waiting again for her own chance at stardom. She was good. Years of vocal training, combined with her youth and looks, paid off at last and she won the role of the second female lead in an upcoming production that was sure to be a success and make her a star. But when she heard that IT--that HE--was coming to Broadway, she gave up the chance at stardom to go back to the chorus...to that chorus. Her friends called her a fool. But she did not change her mind. She continued to wait and hope and dream.

She endured the pain eight times a week. Repetition and concentration on her own minor role helped to make it bearable. Familiarity did not breed contempt, but it made her more able to endure without weeping. So often, as he passed by backstage, she wanted to reach out to him--no, to the man he so brilliantly brought to life--but she restrained herself and limited herself to smiles and greetings. Time passed.

Her voice and appearance did not go unnoticed, but when Sarah left the role of the understudy went to another. She was disappointed, but patient. Her dream lived. And then HE was gone and the magic was gone. She no longer cared. It was only a play, after all--only a job. She had never really liked Los Angeles, but when she asked for--and was given--a role in the production there, she gladly transported her life across the country. There, the magic returned tenfold. In the passing months, she had almost forgotten the heartbreak of that ending, the sounds of the whispered "I love yous" that tore at the soul. She had to learn all over again how not to cry. She learned. She waited. And finally...finally...her chance had come.

Dale and Mary both had to be away for a week and it was tradition that no "Christine" could do all eight performances, so they had looked around for someone to supplement the understudy. And she was there, waiting. In the best Hollywood tradition, they had noticed her, realized she knew the role cold, and realized she had the voice to sing the part. Rehearsals had proved that she was even more capable than they had hoped. And now her dream was about to become a reality. She was about to step on the stage for the first time and be Christine.

It went well. She did not suffer from either ego or false modesty--she knew she was doing a good job. It was all-too-easy to be mesmerized by his voice, all-too easy to be entranced by his touch, but she was careful not to let her personal feelings color her performance. She had come too far. She had waited too long for this night.

It was almost over. Reece was in the boat as she made her way back to return the ring. There were tears in her eyes as she held it out; they ran down her cheeks as he took it and whimpered piteously, "Christine, I love you." There was so much pain in his voice. She looked away from the ravaged face. Three years. She had waited three years for this moment. She caught Reece's eye and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry." But she wasn't. Not really.

Straightening her shoulders, she spoke in a firm, clear voice. "Screw you, Raoul. I'm staying with him. I love him!" Then, to Michael's [and everyone else's] astonishment, and to thunderous applause from the audience, she threw her arms around the Phantom's neck and began to kiss him. She held on until the stage went dark in the ensuing chaos. She knew her fellow cast members would be furious. She knew that--at best--she would never work in the theater again. She didn't care. She had done what she had dreamt of for three years. For one night she had given the play a happy ending.

The standing ovation lasted for 27 minutes and everyone in the audience agreed it was the most satisfying performance ever of Phantom of the Opera.

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