It’s in the middle of the drowning scene that it hits me. The music is so loud in that moment, because Cole isn’t playing it on the guitar. It’s being pumped through the speakers, straight into my head.

I’m dancing on the edge of the river when it slams into me. Like a rogue wave.

And I stop dead in my tracks. I’m frozen.

My mother is tucking me in at night. The bed is warm and cozy. She lies down beside me to rub my back. And she’s humming that song. Eden’s melody.

Eden.

My mother’s favorite name.

Suddenly I remember a hundred nights. The memories slam into me like waves. One after the other. A hundred hugs and kisses. My mother’s hand on my back. That song against my ear.

Over and over. A thousand variations of the same tune.

I’m moving again now. Spinning and dancing, twirling. And the sound of the rushing water is getting louder in my ears.

Memories flood my brain.

My mother lifting me overhead and spinning me around.

My mother sweeping the kitchen floor.

My mother washing my hair.

And humming. And humming. And humming.

Always that same tiny bit of the same haunting melody.

I remember something Glory said to me. About what an ear my mother had for music. The way she was always singing. How she used to compose original melodies in her head and walk around humming them to herself under her breath. “Never whole songs,” Glory told me. “Just the most beautiful little snippets.”

The memories keep coming.

And coming and coming and coming.

The water gets higher.

And the music gets louder.

Until the dam breaks and I’m swept away.

And the world goes dark.

I stumble offstage and into Cole’s arms. He’s waiting for me in the tiny backstage area, and he wraps me up tight. I’m gasping for air. Drowning. Choking. On water. And on memories. “Breathe,” he tells me. “I won’t let go. I promise. Just breathe.”

But I untangle myself and pull away. Because I only have that one scene. The one at the funeral. Between Orion and Anya. Cole and Val. And then I have to be back onstage.

I push my way through the kids that are waiting to go on. The funeral crowd. One of the girls has a script in her hands. She’s looking over her lines. But I pluck it out of her hands. “Hey!” she hisses, but I’m already moving toward the prop table. I hold the script up to the light and flip to the very first page, where the production information is.

And fuck. There it is. Right there.

I was carrying the key around in my fucking backpack with me the whole goddamn time. Almost my whole goddamn life.

Midnight Music was first produced at Whisper Cove Theatre under its original title, Before the Chaos.