Paris, Missouri

“Freakin’ Kansas City,” Becky grumbled from across the aisle as the bus pulled off the snowy interstate. “Most boring city on earth!”

“I’ve always wanted to see it, myself,” Kate replied with a smile, though after all these weeks she wondered why she bothered when her fellow dancer was in one of her moods.

“You would say that,” Becky said. “What do you know about Kansas City anyway, Miss East Coast? You probably think it’s in Kansas, don’t you?”

“Part of it is, although the bigger part is in Missouri. In fact, it’s the biggest city in Missouri.” Kate didn’t bother hiding her triumphant smirk.

“Listen to you! But don’t expect me to believe you wouldn’t be back in New Jersey for the holidays.”

“I’m from New Hampshire, Becky.”

“Same difference. All the states out there are so small anyway. People from the East Coast don’t know anything about the real America. Like how we’d all rather be back with our families instead of putting on this damn play for the nine millionth time.”

“Becky, wouldja can it?!” snapped Don, the lead actor. “All those kids love the show we’re putting on, and you knew when you took the job it would take us up to Christmas Eve.”

“And you’re getting paid well for it, aren’t you?” Kate reminded her. “I’m off to Hawai’i on the twenty-sixth. Worth every bit of sacrifice until then!”

“You mean you’re not going back to New Jersey for the holiday?”

Kate didn’t bother correcting her again. “No. I’m not going to New Jersey for Christmas.”

“God, you’re even more selfish than I thought!” Becky said. “What do you think your parents think about you staying away by choice?”

“Bec!” Don snapped. “She didn’t say she wasn’t going home, she said she was going to Hawai’i the day after Christmas and she wasn’t going to New Jersey, which she just got done telling you isn’t where she’s from!”

“Thank you, Don.” Kate turned and looked out the window at the snowy suburban landscape. No need for him or especially Becky to know she really wouldn’t be going home. She’d already made that mistake a few times and been regaled with pitiful looks about spending Christmas in a hotel room. No use in trying to convince anyone that to her, a hotel room was heaven compared to the alternative.

Indeed, Kate mused as she found herself reluctantly drawn down memory lane, that very thought as a little girl was quite possibly what had started her down the path that had led to being on the road now. Was it fifth grade? Maybe sixth, she couldn’t recall for sure. What she did recall was a magically happy day at school, starting with a geography bee that she’d won for the girls’ team as usual and ending with the Christmas party after lunch, and she’d been aglow with the Christmas spirit in the back seat of Jimmy McKean’s mother’s car on the way home.

Jimmy’s mother’s car. An Audi, back when her parents had a Chevy. She’d made the mistake of saying out loud how she’d liked that car once, and Mom’s reaction had made damn sure she’d never said it again. Why, oh why, hadn’t that been on Kate’s mind that afternoon when Jimmy’s mother dropped her off outside her house?

“You know the drill, all!” said Molly, the director, on the bus intercom. “Half an hour to shower and change clothes, and get back here with your costumes. You make us late…”

“YOU PAY,” the cast grumbled in ragged harmony. Kate noticed, not for the first time, the response had a lot less gusto now than the first few nights of the tour.

James, the road manager, stood in the hotel doorway with the cast’s room keys. “Thank you,” Kate said when her turn came, having noted that Becky had said nothing.

She did her best to tune out the petty bickering among the others as they made their way down the festively decorated hall to their rooms. But it was no use, that long ago day after school was on her mind for the time being.

Kate didn’t remember what crummy comment her brother Max had made as soon as she was in the door. She didn’t remember it, but she did know he’d been rude and disrespectful, for that had happened nearly every time she’d come home from school or anywhere else. She did remember she’d made the mistake of responding exactly the way Mom always responded to either of them when they were rude: “Shut up.”

That was it – two lousy words, and two of their mother’s favorite words at that – and the next thing she recalled was lying on her bed in tears with Mom’s harangue ringing in her ears. “We are a civilized family…We don’t talk like that at Christmas…You little Scrooge!” And Max off to the side having the most self-satisfied little grin all the while, his rude comment to her having once again gone utterly condoned.

Kate slid the keycard into the slot and opened the door to room 108. It was like all the other hotel room’s she’d seen for the past few weeks: clean, neat, plain, anonymous. They’d all been private and empty but for herself, but she’d never given that any real thought before.

Now she did.

“That little bitch! Doesn’t she remember what it’s like to be Max’s age?”

Kate had been safe in her own room when that had floated up from the living room. Her own room with all her toys and books and her beloved map of Europe on the wall, where she recalled gazing longingly at France through tear-stained eyes. This room had none of those comforts, but it was fifteen hundred miles from Mom. Kate smiled as she reminded herself of that, and stole five minutes of relaxing on the bed before she undressed for the pre-show shower.

Thanks to her sojourn on the bed, there was just enough time after the shower to dump her suitcase out on the bed and get a change of clothes on. She collected her costume bag from the closet on her way out the door. Some shows, she did her makeup on her own before running for the bus. Today was not one of those days, and she was relieved to see Becky hadn’t done hers either.

“Too tired to do yourself up this time?” Becky asked as Kate sank into her usual seat.

“Much,” Kate said.

“Just make sure you’re not too tired to stay in time,” Becky said. “I don’t want to have to carry the show myself.”

“Becky, when have I ever missed a cue, all tour?” Kate snapped.

“Mrowrrr!” called out Ari, the stylist, from behind them. “Cat fight!”

“What the fuck do you know about women, Ari?” Becky said with a laugh.

“More than most straight guys do, I’ll tell you that,” Ari drawled.

“Like that’s hard!” Becky laughed and looked at Kate for solidarity. Kate half-smiled and looked out the window at the city at dusk.

At least tonight offered one of the roomier backstage areas Kate had seen. But it wasn’t so roomy as to allow for any real privacy as Kate and Becky changed into their garish, ornate costumes. “Can’t wait to see the last of these,” Becky grumbled, pulling her bright red tights up. “How about you?”

“I kind of like them,” Kate said. A step ahead of Becky, she pulled her frilly leotard into place and leaned over to pull her slippers on. “I mean, they’re absurd, but I feel like I’m playing a real girly girl, you know? New to me, I was always kind of a tomboy.”

“Then why’d you take ballet of all things?” Becky demanded.

“Oh, I had my reasons.” That was all Becky needed to know.

“Dance is something you can do for fun for the rest of your life!” Dad had once said while driving her home from yet another lesson.

“Yes, and it’s something I can do for money if I can’t find a desk job,” Kate had replied.

Dad had laughed. “That too. But listen, honey, making it as a pro dancer is like getting to the NFL almost, and it doesn’t pay anywhere near as well.”

“I don’t care about getting rich. I care about not having to move back in with Mom and Max after college.”

“Kate! Stop that. Your mother loves you, and Max just teases you because he looks up to you.”

Kate had mumbled something under her breath. But it hadn’t been far enough under her breath, and her father had spent the rest of the drive home yelling at her about family ties and respect.

On the first few shows of the tour, Kate had felt horribly tense as the curtain went up. That was long gone now, and she had no trouble looking as joyful as Christmas itself as she and Becky pranced along with each song. The hall was full of families with little kids, and as usual a few goofed off and made noise until their parents scooped them up and rushed off, but most were well-behaved and some even appeared to be enjoying the show. Kate enjoyed it, too, but she did wonder how many families out there were like her own – all about outward appearances at all cost.

As usual, she was sweaty and sore as she took the final bow, but also as usual she was happy. This was far better than any nine-to-five job even if there had been one on tap last spring! But that lovely hotel room was beckoning loud and hard as she stood back up straight and waved to the audience. Please no encore tonight, she thought.

Naturally, there was one. Kate smiled through her exhaustion and stepped back out to do the usual encore number, a fast song that had been cut from the production. Thank heavens it was cut, she thought as it finally drew to a close and she struck the final pose. Another round of applause, another wave to the audience, and the curtain swung down at long last.

Molly stood in the stage door. “Lots of autograph seekers out there, people!” she said. “Who’s up for a meet-and-greet tonight?”

“Forget it, Molly,” Becky said, squeezing past her.

Kate had been all set to do the same. But seeing how Becky looked and sounded, she forced a smile. “I’ll do it, Molly.”

She knew the drill. The adults and the drama students would want to talk to the leads, the teenage girls would want their pictures taken with Don, and of course the boys would flock to her.

As usual, that was just what happened. Kate didn’t mind a bit; she knew perfectly well she’d have done the same at that age for a male dancer in racy getup. She exchanged wry smiles with the boys’ mothers as they asked for her autograph on the program. As usual, she posed for photographs with every one of the boys who was brave enough to ask, knowing exactly how they would be using that photograph for years to come and not minding a bit.

“Can boys learn to dance like that?” asked one boy who was too shy to look in her eyes.

“Of course they can!” Kate said. “Just ask your parents about taking lessons. And happy holidays!”

“You too…thanks.” He finally forced himself to look her in the eye, and Kate rewarded him with a hug.

“Dance is for everybody!” she told him, giving his back an affectionate rub. As she let him go and stood up to find his parents waiting just behind him, she explained, “I started lessons when I was about his age. But it’s never too late!”

“We’ve been trying to interest him in it for months!” his mother told Kate. “But until tonight it was all, ‘that’s just for girls!’. Thank you!”

“My pleasure!” Kate’s heart was flying, but she was nevertheless relieved that there were only a few more admiring looks from afar before the theatre emptied out.

She was one of the last few cast members to escape backstage, and quickly concluded that if she changed her clothes here, she’d be the last one ready to leave. Rather than have that hanging over her head all the way back to the hotel, she tossed her slippers in the bag with her clothes and put her street shoes on, and stepped out into the cold parking lot in her costume.

The chilly wind was murder in her skimpy, sweaty clothes, but the laughs and cheers from the others made up for it. “You’re in a hurry to get home, huh?” asked Ari, who was smoking a cigarette by the bus door.

“You have no idea!”

“Some tomboy you are!” Becky teased when Kate got back to their seats.

“Oh, where’s your Christmas spirit?” Kate grinned at her, hoping the earlier animosity would be forgotten.

It wasn’t. “Oh, excuse me, Kate, but which one of us will be having Christmas dinner with our families?”

“Who isn’t going home for Christmas?” asked Sally, the lead actress, who always insisted on having the entire back row of the bus to herself.

Don saved the day by bursting into a rousing rendition of “Christmas, Baby Please Come Home,” which had the whole bus exchanging lines across the aisle before the bus had even pulled out of the parking lot. Kate even joined in on the singing, hoping to keep her mind off the memory Becky had once again torn open.

Mom had owned a record album called Christmas in France, with a wonderfully idyllic photo of a rural church that, Kate now realized, didn’t really have to be in France. It could have been in Missouri for all she knew. But she remembered thinking of that picture as she’d gazed at France on her map on the wall, drying her eyes and trying to imagine she was celebrating Christmas over there. She had just gone on toe at ballet class and the promise of someday performing in exotic halls had been on her mind already – and now more than ever.

Kate didn’t begrudge the curious and bemused looks she got from the few tired travellers they came across in the hotel lobby. On the contrary, she was happy to make a few strangers smile and wonder.

“You know what they thought you were, Kate,” Becky needled her once the cast had the hallway to themselves.

Kate ignored her as she rummaged through her bag for her jeans, which had her key in the pocket. Finding it just in time, she said, “Merry Christmas, Becky,” as she stopped at room 108.

Becky said something in response that didn’t sound very merry to Kate, but she didn’t hear just what it was. Alone at last, she turned the heater on and paused to look out the window at the barren Midwestern suburb. There was no sign of anyone out there, but she laughed as she realized anyone who did happen to pass by would see her in her dance garb, and just about to tear it off at that.

Kate drew the curtains and looked around the quiet room, and at long last she pulled her leotard straps down. A long, hot bath would do just fine, thank you.

As long as she kept the curtains drawn, after all, it might as well be Paris out there.