Stephen Rourke paced with anticipation as he waiting in the long hall outside of the dressing rooms. The walls of the old theater were lined with photographs of actors and actresses who had once walked the stage beyond, but they held no interest for the 19 year old. His only thoughts were of the woman whose name was written in gold on the decades old wood.
His heartbeat raced in anticipation at the thought that he was actually going to get the chance to talk to her. To have a conversation with a living legend.
It had only been a month since the blond haired young man had finally managed to work up the courage to write her a letter. No, that wasn't really true. Stephen had written many letters over the last few months. This was the first time he'd had the nerve to mail one of them.
The film history major had told how he'd discovered one of her old movies on AMC late one night last year and had been totally captivated by her. So much so that he made it a point to find a copy of everyone of her films. No easy feat since aside for a few cameo roles, the most recent of her movies was twenty-five years old.
His bookcase back home contained six books on her career, including two unauthorized biographies. With his letter, Stephen had also sent a copy of his freshman paper, which of course had been all about her life and times.
The most Stephen had hoped for when he mailed that letter was a personally autographed photograph. Maybe a little note of thanks for his interest.
Instead, when he'd opened the return letter, two front row tickets to her current Broadway show had fallen out. Along with a handwritten invitation to come backstage and meet her after the show.
The day after classes ended for the semester, Stephen took what money he had managed to save during the year and boarded a Greyhound bus to New York. It was a sixteen-hour trip from Greenwood Falls, but that was a small price to pay to live out a dream.
Reaching out to knock on the door, Stephen gulped as it suddenly swung open and a large black woman stepped out. She stood at least two inches shorter than his five foot six but seemed at least twice his hundred and thirty five pounds.
"Can I help you, young man?" She said, her voice carrying a tone of annoyance.
"I ... I'm here to see Miss Thomas." He managed to stammer out.
"Miss Thomas doesn't see people in her dressing room," the woman said in a cold, hard voice. "If you call her office ..."
"But she invited me..." Stephen quickly offered. "She sent me a ticket to the show and said I should come backstage afterward."
"Yeah, right..." the large, somewhat angry, woman answered as she moved to close the door.
"Is there a problem, Katie?" came a voice from within the room. A voice so familiar that it was like music to Stephen's ears.
"Just some kid looking for an autograph. Even claims you invited him." Katie said laughingly. "I was just getting rid of him."
"Please," Stephen implored as the door began to close in his face. "She really did send me a letter. I sent her a copy of the paper I did on her film career."
"Oh Lord!" the voice that had graced a hundred stages yelled. "I'd forgotten all about it, I did send him a ticket to the show!"
Stephen smiled at her words and gave Katie a 'told you so' look of satisfaction. In return she gave him a cold, hostile stare.
"Please let the young man in." continued the actress.
At that, Katie stopped the door in mid-motion and slowly reopened it. Somewhat reluctantly, she stepped aside to let Stephen enter. As he walked by her, she shook her head in disbelief.
Once inside the dressing room, Stephen took in his surrounding. The room was large, as befitting someone of her status. On the walls were photos of her in many roles, both in film and on the stage. A small kitchenette occupied one corner, and a pullout couch in another. It resembled more a small apartment than a dressing room.
"I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding," came the voice from behind a changing partition. "I totally forgot about sending that invitation."
"Will you be needing anything else, Miss Thomas?" Katie said.
"No, I'm done for the evening, thank you, Katie."
"I've no problem staying around until your visitor is ready to leave." Katie said as she stood her ground by the open door.
"No, I don't think that'll be necessary, Kate dear," the object of Stephen's admiration called out. "I'm sure Mister ... err... Mister..."
"Rourke." Stephen interjected.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm sure Mister Rourke and I can manage a quiet chat between ourselves quite well. After all, I did invite him."
With that the black woman turned and left, leaving Stephen an even harder stare as she exited.
A rush of excitement filled Stephen as he looked at the many images of the star on the wall. They covered a career spanning more than four decades, all the way back to her first role in 1953 when she was 18. He remembered the movie well, having seen it more than a half dozen times.
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"All right, here I come, ready or not," the voice behind the barrier finally said.
Stephen felt his heart skip a beat as she stepped into view. In his mind he knew that Cynthia Thomas had just passed her sixty-first birthday, but his eyes couldn't believe she was older than her late forties.
Short silver gray hair rested atop a blue silk dressing robe. From what he could see of her body beneath it, it was obvious that she took serious care of it. Her smile, he thought, was infectious - exactly as it had been in the first of her films he had seen. One made so many years before.
"Can I offer you something to drink?" She asked as she stepped into the center of the room and the full light. "Juice, soda, or maybe something a little stronger?"
"Err...soda would be fine." He said.
"Coming right up." Cynthia smiled as she moved to the small wet bar. "You must forgive Katie," she said as she poured a soda for Stephen and a scotch for herself. "I'm not in the habit of receiving visitors after a show, and she does tend to be somewhat protective."
