Unnaturally Green (34 page)

Chortle, chortle?

This wasn’t funny.

Even if I’d felt alone sometimes—reeling from the challenges
Wicked
presented me—it had never
really
been the case. No, not at all. I thought of Marshall. Then Libby. And Etai. Nic, Neka, and the whole game night crew. And, of course, Eden. My coworkers; my friends. None of us was ever alone.

At the end of the tour, we looped back and exited to the grounds, passing the residential buildings that had once held the prison guards and their wives and children. Their lives (the tour explained) were actually comfortable, albeit isolated. Here, surrounded by water, they had formed their own little community, ferrying into the city to go to school, gather supplies, and reintegrate with the rest of civilization.

I thought of the rest of the
Wicked
cast, all of whom had family, friends, and lives outside of San Francisco. We had shared a singular experience—one that had never been, and would never be again. Together, it seemed, we had lived on our own island.

On an island of
Wicked
.

As we waited in line to re-board and head back to the mainland, I thought of my own family back east. How were they doing, now that my grandmother was gone? How were my parents? And my sister, now that she was applying to colleges? What was “real life” like, since I’d catapulted over the rainbow?

What would it be like to go back?

A twilight glow lingered over the choppy ocean. I realized that the days here in Oz had blurred together as one long stretch of time—somehow separate and in a different universe, spinning on its own axis.

In doing
Wicked,
I had taken steps toward a new future. Now that I was on the brink of returning home, my future felt as unlimited as ever. I remembered my rehearsals with Bryan.

What is an unlimited future?

Not bound by conventional strictures, by the shackles that have always held me back.

As I felt the ferry rock and cradle me, I glanced over at Marshall who, against a backdrop of the cloudy night sky, was debating with Dave over which was the better aircraft: a helicopter or a zeppelin.

Becky’s words echoed in my head.

“You and Marshall are
not
you and Matt.”

He’d seemed too good to be true. But he
had
come true.

So much had.

I had played Elphaba. Not just once—
over forty times
.

I had forged a lifelong friendship—and learned that you can’t judge a standby’s book by her sparkly cover.

I had learned how to live far away from home.

I had learned to deal with tremendous loss, of a loved one and of a piece of home itself.

I had learned how to let go of past losses.

I had yanked back the curtain to see the formidable Wizard of Theater, examining him as he pushed buttons, pulled levers, and tugged his vast network of strings.

Here in Oz, I had learned what it meant to be
green
, inside and out, as I fumbled my way to becoming a professional actor.

So, what would happen next?

I knew better than to try to predict the future. But still, I just wanted to
know
.

Would there still be time for dreaming?

On closing night, we all wore our evening best. For Libby, this meant a short black number; for Neka, a blue and black floor-length gown topped by a Jennifer Lopez updo, circa 2007; for me, a spandex dress with a rooster’s tail that had looked much cuter in the store’s skinny mirrors.

“I’m going to miss you, girl,” said Neka, batting her ridiculously long lashes at me.

“Then there’d better be major double-dating in our future,” I said, “or at least treadmill trotting.”

“Come visit me in L.A.,” said Neka, drifting out the door and into the girls’ dressing room.

“I definitely will!” I called after her, hoping this would be true, silently wishing her the best.

On this, the last night, many of us had exchanged cards or goodbye post-its. I myself had Photoshopped famous works of art so they looked green (the Statue of David, the Mona Lisa, the Birth of Venus) and handed them out in little envelopes. I, of course, took special care to write Libby a long, sappy, “I love you forever and ever” note, with hearts and stars drawn around the perimeter.

Together, she and I watched the company’s final performance from the back of the mezzanine, where we hugged and shed many sloppy tears. Neither of us was a parent, but we decided the experience was like saying goodbye to our problem child after he went away to college. Sure, we’d miss him—the tickle fights, the gold star book reports—but we certainly wouldn’t miss shuttling him to soccer practice, meeting him in the principal’s office, or force-feeding him vegetables.

He was a grown up now.

And we had the rest of our lives to live.

When the show ended, Libby and I joined the company onstage. Together we stood, holding hands through the applause, and took one final bow.

CURTAIN CALL
.
RETURN TO KANSAS

GREEN

/grin/
adjective

10.
full of life and vigor:
green in heart.

20.  TRANSITION

September 6, 2010. Felicia’s Blog.

Wicked
closed last night. How do I describe my feelings?

Some folks asked me if I was sad, and I'd have to say no—but with a giant, multifaceted asterisk. I am sad insofar as something beautiful that was, no longer is; and that's a huge loss to deal with.

But
Wicked’
s closing also evokes so much positive emotion, as I think of all the lives it's touched here in San Francisco. I know (from your letters and kind words at the stage door, to my own personal experience) that the story of
Wicked
is timeless, inspirational, cathartic, and quite universal—and I think I would be much sadder if its message had never been disseminated. I'm thrilled to see firsthand how it has worked its magic on literally hundreds of thousands of people—and I'm thrilled to have been a part of it.

Bottom line? Thank you! Thank you,
Wicked
; thank you, amazing fans; thank you, universe; thank you, Mom and Dad; thank you everybody who came together to make this life-changing experience possible.

On the bright side: now I get to paint my nails any color I want.

Today, I choose purple!

M
arshall’s and my flight was scheduled to leave the morning after closing. We squared away our apartment, emptying the pantry, cleaning every last crevice—taking down the “set” we’d mounted for our extended bid of playing house. Now there was only an air mattress in the corner, on which we lay in the early morning blackness.

Neither of us could sleep. We were too wide-eyed from the closing night party and the excitement of returning to New York.

New York
.

City where we’d met. City where we’d soon return.

“Did you ever think this day would come?” I asked.

“I feel like I’ve been living in San Francisco for years,” said Marshall. He looked over at me, then added, “No offense, or anything.”

“None taken.”

“You’re really awesome to live with,” he said.

“You, too,” I said.

When all was said and done, we’d spent nearly the whole of our relationship in Oz. What would it be like to ship ourselves back?

Would it be like getting in a time machine and hitting the rewind button?

Just as I wondered who I would be without
Wicked
, so did I wonder what kind of couple we’d be without San Francisco. Despite our whining about the weather, the lack of transportation, and the crack pipes on our street, it
had
become our home.

On the air mattress we lay awake, our pinkies touching. After a few minutes, I rolled over and said,

“Do you want to, like, go to the airport right now?”

Marshall thought about this for a few moments.

“Yeah, duh,” he said.

So we lugged down our suitcases, called a cab, and bid farewell to our apartment. The gates didn’t open until 4 a.m., so we sat in plastic seats near the airport’s sliding doors, watching movies on my computer.

Hadn’t I been here before?

In a flash, I saw the neon green walls of the terminal-like casting office, where all of this had begun. There, I’d dawdled in limbo, waiting to be called in for my audition.

Was I in limbo once more?

(LL101:
Just wait and see.
)

SFO to NYC

Back to reality.

21. GAME SHOW INTERLUDE,
OR, A WHIMSICAL DEVICE THAT CONVEYS THE PASSAGE OF TIME AND CLARIFIES THIS BOOK’S MAJOR THEMES

HOST
: Welcome back to the final round of What the Heck Should I Do With My Life—the game show that lets you make life-changing decisions! This week’s contestant is none other than Felicia Ricci, the newly professional actress who went about her unnaturally green way standing by for Elphaba in the San Francisco company of
Wicked
. Well, she’s back, folks! Back in New York City, ready for some serious soul-searching. Let’s give her a round of applause!

(Crowd goes wild.)

FELICIA: Thanks for having me. Although I must say, I’m not thrilled to be here.

HOST: Well, you don’t have much of a choice. Our random selection process means contestants don’t always get to choose whether or not they’re on the show. Consider yourself lucky!

FELICIA: Okay.

HOST: Let’s get right down to things. Felicia, you’ve always been a bit of a dreamer, am I right?

FELICIA: Guilty as charged.