the stars in your eyes | t.s. one shots

sophie (h x p)

My bare feet were cold against the floor of our Hampstead home, a contrast with the rest of my body, which was drenched in sweat. I know that just one room over, our daughter is sleeping soundly. I know that next to me, my amazing husband will love me no matter what. That doesn't make anything better tonight.

"P, I just don't know if I can take it anymore," I say, pacing back and forth, my feet moving nearly as quickly as my beating heart. "This is the fourth time that I've been called in for Sophie... not even the fourth time. It's the fourth casting call. I've been to countless callbacks over the years. They've been calling me in since I was in uni. Twice before Mills was born and twice now after. I don't know why I can't book it." My voice suddenly grows quiet. "Do you think I can? Am I just not good enough?"

"Honey, no," he says to me, placing his hand on my back and rubbing circles through my tee shirt. "That's absolutely not it. You are absolutely the most talented person I know, and you deserve this role so much. I can't promise you that you're going to get it, but I can promise you that tomorrow, you're going to go into that callback and kill it. You're going to be proud of the work that you've done, because you absolutely should be. You've worked so hard, and you've said it a million times yourself- auditioning is your job. Booking is a happy perk."

"I don't know..." she sighs. "Every time that I'm in these stupid callbacks, going in and singing for that team four or five times, I think, 'maybe this will be the year.' It never is."

"But you can't stop thinking that, because maybe this really will be," he tells me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"I'm going to be sixty years old," I continue, letting out a sigh as I sit down on the edge of our bed, "and still getting called in for bloody Sophie, because I'm always their 'almost' but never good enough to be the real thing."

"I don't know why it is, hon, that you never seem to believe that you're good enough for these roles."

Ouch. His words feel like a punch in the stomach. Hearing him say the words out loud hurts.

"You have to start believing that you're good enough. You were a beautiful Cosette. A brilliant Anya. A radiant Natasha. A stunning Fantine. You're the most beautiful singer, an incredible mother, and the best wife that I could ever, ever ask for," he tells me. "Think about that beautiful little girl of ours. What would you do if you ever heard her talk about herself the way that you talk about yourself?"

I sigh. "I think I'd cry."

"So then, lovie, why is it okay when you say it about yourself?"

I respond with mere silence. My hands are tied on this answer; Patrick knows that.

"I'll never forget the first time that I saw you play Cosette in the Queen's Theatre, all those years ago. Do you know what I thought?"

I slowly shake my head 'no.'

"I thought, 'Wow. That must be the most gorgeous voice I've ever heard. Ever. I didn't know much about theatre back then, so I didn't realize right away that you had the most perfect characterization, or flawless timing, but I did know that you had an incredible voice and that you were gorgeous. The other things, I learned later on, as I got to know you better and learned more about the story, your role, and your craft."

As his voice fills the room, I feel my heart swell. I love him so much, and it means the world to me to hear him say those things. I know that he would never lie to me. That makes it all the more special. I still feel the butterflies in my stomach, the same as when I first met him. He really does know how to make me feel like the most special girl in the world, even all these years, a marriage, and a kid later.

"Thank you, Patrick. That... that means a lot to me," I say, rubbing my eyes.

Just then, I hear something coming from the room next door. A little voice. "Mummy? Daddy?"

"Millie's awake," I say.

"Come on, let's go see what she wants," he suggests, grabbing my hand and leading me out the door. We walk out of our bedroom and into Millie's, where she is sitting in her brand new, "big girl bed," looking so small under the big blankets.

"Cuddly, what's wrong?" Patrick asks her, walking over. "Mummy and I are here."

"Snuggles?" she asks, her wide eyes glowing in the dark.

"Oh, sweetheart, of course," I say, walking over to her and sitting down in her bed beside her. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No," she says.

"Mills, why did you call us in here then," Patrick asks, sitting down on the other side of our daughter so that she is sandwiched between us.

"I wanted to cuddle. I love you," she says.

Upon hearing that, I feel tears well up in my eyes. I love her so much, more than I ever thought that it was possible to love someone. I would do absolutely anything for that precious little girl beside me, I'd take any bullet if it meant keeping her out of harm's way.

"Millie," I say, "do you want to come back to Mummy and Daddy's bed for the night?"

"Yes please," she says, holding her arms up, a non-verbal plea to be carried. In one hand, she still holds her teddy bear. Of course, I indulge her, pulling her tiny body close to me and lifting her into the air.

"I love you so, so much, my sweetie."

A few minutes later, we are all snuggled up in Patrick and I's bed, which is bigger than Millie's. We are comfortable for the night, with our daughter in between us.

Her little arms clutch the plushie that she brought into our room with her. Even when she's asleep, she's got a soft smile on her lips as her light brown hair strays from the ponytail it is in and starts to get in her face.

Kids always have a way of putting things into perspective.

"Patrick," I whisper to my husband, "you were right."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to go to that audition tomorrow, give it my best go, and be proud of it at that. I need to do it to make Millie proud."

"She's already so proud of you," Patrick says.

"But I want her to look at me and think I'm strong. So that someday, when I tell her about how I was called in for Sophie so many times, and that I kept going in and never giving up, she'll think, 'Wow. My mom is so fearless and determined.'"

"Because she is fearless and determined," Patrick tells me. "She just needs to believe in herself a little more."

"I'm working on it," I assure him. "For Millie."

"For Millie," he smiles back at me. "And hey, you never know. Maybe someday, you'll get to not only tell her about how you were called in for Sophie a million times, but how you were called in for Sophie a million times until you finally booked it."

I let out a soft giggle as a smile spreads on my face. "Maybe. But my work is the important part. I'm not going to give up."