Is it written in the stars?

Evelyn is her past. Joan is her present. Who will be her future?
OR
Celia attends the premiere of Aida (the musical), but she is overwhelmed by her memories of Evelyn. Celia's POV.
Can be read fandom(s) blind.

Notes:

This is set in the early 1980s and we are all just going to pretend that Aida premiered that year.
It incorporates the music from the musical, but you should be able to understand it if you haven't seen the show.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The first time I stepped onto a red carpet, Evelyn was at my side. And when she took my hand, spun me around, and told me to wave to the crowd like the Queen of England, that’s exactly how I felt. I relished it. At that moment, I felt unstoppable and I knew, or at least, I thought the feeling of walking a red carpet would never get old. But, just like so many other things, I was wrong about that too.

“Celia, have you heard anything I said?” asked Joan.

“Hmm,” my head jerked as I pulled myself out of the memory abruptly, “sorry, what was that?”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not acting like yourself?”

Steven responded for me, before I could even open my mouth, “Aw, she’s fine. Aren’t you darling? Just excited to see the show.” He moved closer to me, my dress catching wrinkling under him as he looked at me with a smile.

“Sure I am. I was just enjoying the view from the window.” I forced a smile into my voice and made myself hold his hand. Joan looked like she didn’t believe it, but she couldn’t exactly ask him to slide down in the limo so that we could have a private conversation.

So much had changed in the last few decades, but the non-written requirement of bringing a date–and of course that meant a male date–to red carpet events, rather than going solo (or heaven forbid bringing someone you were actually in a relationship with, if that person happened to be the “wrong” gender), was not one of them. Even Joan, daring and bold, who wanted to live open and free had a fella hanging on her arm for the evening.

The car pulled up and we opened the door to step out. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend that I was back at the premiere of Little Women , stepping onto that first red carpet, completely unaware of what would happen in the days and weeks and months and years to come. It didn’t work. Like so many other things–strawberry milkshakes, emerald green, the red wine we drank that night she spilled it on my shirt–red carpets were always tinged with heartache and regret. Never again would I experience Evelyn by my side, my hand in hers, everyone shouting our names.

I didn’t think of her nearly as much any more. Well, that’s not exactly true. A truer statement is that I put her in a far away box in the back of my mind. I continued to live my life. I'd had to, and most days I got by without feeling the crushing weight of what we lost. Most days I was happy, even. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was about today that was making it so hard for me to put her back in that box and keep her there, like I had gotten so good at.

Joan positioned herself so that we stood together with our dates on the outside of us. She gave me a look that clearly said, “you’re lying, something’s wrong.” So I gave her my best smile and leaned into her, not enough to raise suspicion, just enough so she could hear me over the crowd, “It’s been too long since I’ve been to an event like this, I forgot how overwhelming it can be.”

Joan looked at me like she was deciding whether to push it or not, “yeah right, the famous Celia St. James, overwhelmed by a red carpet.” But she said it with a laugh, and I knew I had convinced her.

What can I say, I’ve still got it.

Steven and Robert led the way into the theater. Joan and I were pros at positioning ourselves so that we would end up together in the middle of our dates. Just like all of the other events, this one was no different. As we settled into our seats, Steven looked over at me and asked genuinely, “so, what is this musical about anyway?”

I must admit, I did like that he wasn’t pretentious in the way that some of the other men I brought to these types of events were. “I’m not sure. I know it’s inspired by Aida the opera, but I’m not sure how closely it tracks. I think it’s set in Egypt and follows a royal family.”

“Never heard of it. But as long as I have you here next to me, I’ll go see as many musicals as you want.”

I caught Joan suppressing a smirk out of the corner of my eyes. The dimming lights saved me from responding.

On the stage, a spotlight was shown on a statute. She opened her mouth and the soft notes of her voice washed over me.

Every story, tale or memoir

Every saga, or romance

Whether true, or fabricated

Whether planned, or happenstance

The statute, who was no longer a statute, stepped down from her podium. I was captivated by the story she was weaving together. My earlier thoughts of Evelyn, gone, and I focused only on her voice. The song had a soft quality to it, almost like a lullaby.

Whether sweeping through the ages

Casting centuries aside

Or a hurried brief recital

Just a thirty-minute ride

Whether bright, or melancholy

Rough and ready, finely spun

Whether with a thousand players

Or a lonely cast of one

The sound of her voice pulled me in. I felt myself swaying slightly with the music. A smile crept onto my face, as I lost myself in this fictional world, where my own concerns couldn’t touch me.

Every story, new or ancient

Bagatelle, or work of art

All are tales of human failing

All are tales of love at heart

Just as I settled in, taking a break from the earlier memories, it sounded like the pianist slammed down on all the keys at once. Just like everyone else in the theater, my whole body jerked. The lullaby like quality gone, replaced by something more like anger or deep hurt. There was a fire in the eyes of the woman who was no longer a statute. Her body shifted. Her posture changed.

This is the story

Of a love that flourished

In a time of hate

Of lovers no tyranny could separate

And just like that, Evelyn came breaking out of the box in my head. I took a deep breath, this was not our story. It was someone else's, and I was here to enjoy it. But as the song and scene changed those words repeated over and over in my head, “ Of a love that flourished in a time of hate. Of lovers no tyranny could separate .”

The opening tune hadn’t lied. A love story began to unfold. Radames, captain of the Egyptian Army and betrothed to Princess Amneris, fell for Aida, a slave he captured and ripped from her home. Try as he might not to, the more time they spent together, the deeper his feelings became. And it wasn’t single-sided either. Through words and actions, Aida tried to resist her feelings, but the mutual attraction continued to grow. Those words from the first tune repeated themselves in my mind. “ This is a story of a love that flourished in a time of hate. Of lovers, no tyranny could separate.”

This was not the fun, light evening I hoped it would be. I tried to tune out the memories that felt like they were pressing in on me from all sides, tried to concentrate only on the here and now, but I must confess that I’ve never been so relieved for the lights to come up for intermission as I was during that performance.

Immediately, I was on my feet and asking if anyone wanted a refreshment. I needed a moment alone, to gather myself.

“Sure,” Steven replied. “I’ll come as well,” Joan added. “Guess that means we’re all going.” Her date said.

Not exactly what I had hoped for.

“Wonderful.” I hoped that the tightness in my jaw wasn’t noticeable to everyone else.

We made our way to the bar, purchased our beverages–wine for the ladies and beer for the men–and moved to a quieter area of the lobby to wait out the rest of intermission.

The other three all launched into how much they were enjoying the show. From the music, to the story, and the secrets that unfolded throughout the whole first act, everyone knew it would be a hit. I stood there trying to add to the conversation, but in actuality did little more than nod and agree with what everyone before me already said.

“--and the forbidden love.” Joan finished animatedly, looking at me expectedly.

“Right . . . forbidden love.” I repeated back. I hoped that was enough to satisfy her. I released my breath when she launched back into her speech.

“Elton John came out recently. And it didn’t stop the producers from putting on this musical. It didn’t stop everyone here from getting all dolled up and coming out to see it. Times are changing.”

The men shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with where this was going. I saw the party behind us giving us those looks, the ones I’ve become all too familiar with and have spent most of my life trying to avoid. But Joan, either not noticing or not caring, pushed ahead.

“In a few years from now, everything will change. The Stonewall riots were just the beginning. It won’t be like it is now, people hiding who they are, feeling like they have to hide themselves and lie about who they love.” She was practically glowing by the time she finished. Invigorated, waiting for us to respond in kind.

“Love isn’t always enough,” I quietly retorted before I could stop myself. I hadn’t meant to respond. It just slipped out before I could stop myself.

She responded with a look I didn’t quite understand. She wasn’t angry or hurt, there was something else beneath the surface, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I held her gaze. Not entirely sure what my own eyes were saying back. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Well, I guess I’m fine with the queers doing what they want behind closed doors, just as long as I don’t have to hear about it or see anything.” Steven said, trying to grasp for something to say in a conversation neither of them wanted to be in. Joan’s date nodded in agreement and mumbled something about not understanding why anyone would want to be queer anyway and how it was unnatural.

For a second, I thought that Joan was going to call him out on what he had said, and really cause a scene. But, instead, she responded to me. “I guess we’ll see,” she said with a soft but flirtatious undertone that only I picked up on.

The men thought she was referring to the show. I knew she was not. Although I finally figured out what she was trying to say to me silently when I first made the remark. She thought I was concerned for us, that I wasn’t sure we would survive with love alone. And how I wished she were right.

But in that moment, I knew that sweet, kind, strong Joan who loved me boldly, would never be enough for me. The fact that she believed I was talking about her laid that bare. We were not on the same page in the way that lovers were supposed to be. Or, at least, not the way that Evelyn and I had always known what the other was thinking.

The lights flickered on and off, signaling the end of intermission. On the way back into the theater, I felt her hand brush against mine, as if to reassure me that for us, love would be enough. Tears sprung to my eyes, this wasn’t the night I had expected. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Taking my seat, I was thankful for the darkness that fell over us. I gave myself a moment to catch my breath and hoped that the second act would be more bearable than the first.

But I should have known that was too much to ask for. The first number back from intermission weaved three voices together: Radames, his fiance Princess Amneris, and Aida. It wasn’t a love triangle in the typical sense, but there were three people deeply invested.

As the trio continued to sing, I felt like they were speaking to me directly. It was as if the three of them had locked eyes with me and each spoke to my soul.

Princess Amneris worried that Radames was no longer in love with her.

There are times when I imagine

I'm not always on his mind

He's not thinking what I'm thinking

Always half a step behind

Radames worried that loving Aida would mean he could not ascend to the political stature he was all but otherwise guaranteed.

I'm in every kind of trouble

Can't you tell, just look at me

Half ecstatic, half dejected

All in all, I'm all at sea

Easy terms I thought I wanted

Fill me now with chilling dread

You could never know the chaos

Of a life turned on its head

Aida worried that loving Radames meant betraying herself and her people.

I am certain that I love him

But a love can be misplaced

Have I compromised my people

In my passion and my haste?

I could be his life companion

Anywhere but where we are

But this wasn’t just about their worries and concerns. As I looked up at the stage, I saw the fight and passion break out of each of them. Princess Amneris deciding that she could look past Radames’s infatuation with Aida, if it meant keeping him to herself. Radames decided that Aidia was worth fighting for and giving up his career for. And Aida, strong and firm in her belief, trying to tell herself that she loved Radames, she could not swallow the betrayal it would mean for her to act on those feelings.

It wasn’t just Evelyn rushing into my thoughts now. Joan snuck her way in too, but not because of the passion and desire I felt on the stage. No, she was there because I knew that she would never be someone more than a person I lived my life next to, never fully loving her. And I wondered if she had made a conscious decision to be okay with that, like Princess Amneris, or if she loved me fully, not knowing that my heart would always belong to someone else.

The absurdity of it all. Sitting next to my “date,” my “lover” and wishing for nothing more than to be in another woman’s arms. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.

I snuck a look at the Playbill, quickly counting how many more songs there were in this act. Calculating how long until I could go home, make some excuse as to why Joan couldn’t join, and take a hot shower by myself. Until I could let the tears that were welling up to an unbearable pressure behind my eyes fall freely.

The first line of the next song felt like an arrow to the heart.

All I have to do is to forget how much I love him

But there was no forgetting. No one could forget Evelyn Hugo.

All I have to do is put my longing to one side

I couldn’t. I had tried and I had failed.

Tell myself that love's an ever-changing situation

Passion would have cooled and all the magic would have died

It's easy, it's easy

I had never found the right words to express how I felt and what I told myself when I tried to move on from Evelyn. But if I had kept a diary, it would have read exactly as the lines of this song. Because that was all I had ever tried to do, for years I had tried to forget how much I loved her and to tell myself that love’s an ever-changing situation. I tried to convince myself it was easy. But it was not.

All I have to do is to pretend I never knew him

On those very rare occasions when he steals into my heart

I couldn’t pretend anymore. I didn't want to. To have never known Evelyn Hugo would be the same as never knowing myself.

Better to have lost him when the ties were barely binding

Better the contempt of the familiar cannot start

It's easy, it's easy

But it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy at all.

Until I think about him as he was when I last touched him

And how he would have been were I to be with him today

Those very rare occasions, don't let up, they keep on coming

All I ever wanted and I'm throwing it away

It's easy, it's easy as life

And true to the song, the memories weren’t letting up. They were rushing in. I couldn’t swallow. My heart was racing and my palms started to sweat.

Because she was all I ever wanted. And I threw her away.

She was the one who came to my hotel room and banged on the door. She sobbed in the hallway, she cried into my lap in a ball on the floor, and what did I do? I let her go.

Steven leaned in, “are you okay, you look flushed,” he whispered.

I tried clearing my throat, but my voice came out hoarse, “I’m not feeling great. Are you warm?” Steven shook his head and looked at me concerned.

If I could have, I would have stood up at that moment and walked out of the theater. But even if I wasn’t as well-known as I once had been, I knew that I couldn’t do that without causing a scene.

I pretended to fan myself with my Playbill, as if that would help. I was thankful when Radames and his father launched into a peppy showtune that I couldn’t connect to my personal life. But it was just a short reprieve, and I knew it.

When the opening notes of the next song rang out–a letter written by Radames to Aida, sung aloud for the world to hear–they were mournful. I knew there was no escaping these feelings. Radames sung as if he was pulling words out of my soul and projecting them for the world to hear. Because the fact of the matter was that, when given the chance, Evelyn apologized, and I did not.

I'm sorry for everything I've said

And for anything I forgot to say too

When things get so complicated

I stumble, at best, muddle through

Years ago, it occurred to me that maybe I should call or write and apologize. But the more time that passed, the harder it became. I didn’t ever know where or to begin. And everytime I tried to write it out, it sounded like this letter Radames wrote: an apology that was actually a love letter. I could never bring myself to send it.

I wish that our lives could be simple

I don't want the world only you

Only you. Only her. It was always only ever her. I needed to talk to Evelyn. I needed to see her. I needed to tell her that I still loved her, and that I should have never let her walk away.

Oh I wish I could tell you this face to face

But there's never the time never the place

So this letter will have to do

I love you…

As the ‘I love you’ in the love letter faded out, and before Aida could respond, I knew I couldn’t stay wrapped up in this story any longer. I needed to get back to my own story. I needed to respond to the love letter, the apology, that I had received so long ago.

I leaned in to Steve and asked if he could move his legs so I could get out.

“Honey, I’m sure you can wait. Show’s almost over.” He said with a look that clearly asked why I was making noise.

I'm here to tell you

We can never meet again

Simple really, isn't it?

A word or two, and then

A lifetime of not knowing

Where or how or why or when

People were starting to crane their heads to look in our direction, trying to figure out what the commotion was all about. Even Joan was giving me a strange look, and I could tell she was uncomfortable with whatever was happening next to her.

You think of me, or speak of me

And wonder what befell

That someone you once loved

So long ago, so well

Before I even had the conscious thought, my body was in motion. I needed to get out of here, and I needed Evelyn. What was I trying to prove by denying myself the love of my life? Whatever it was, I had done it. I showed her that I could stand on my own. I showed her that I could be in a relationship without compromising my identity and who I was, but suddenly, none of that mattered anymore. I didn’t want it if it meant I couldn’t be with Evelyn. I didn’t want to wonder, or think of her, or speak of her, without having her. I didn’t want a lifetime of not knowing.

Every moment of my life

From now, until I die

I will think, or dream of you

And fail to understand

How a perfect love can be confounded out of hand

My breath was coming in gasps now, sweat was pooling on my lower back. I felt like I was going to pass out. I wanted to scream at the actress to stop singing, to tell her that she has no idea what it feels like to think and dream of a lover you cannot have. That she has the luxury of starring in a show, and to her, that’s all this is. But I know. I know what it really feels like, and she can’t even begin to imagine.