“Backstage smelled like hairspray and fate.”
The black door opened and Patricia stepped inside, feeling like Alice after she’d just tumbled down the rabbit hole. The air inside felt different—a mixture of leftover stage-adrenaline sweat, the electric smell of coiled cables, and the faint scent of hairspray. The world backstage wasn't the magical, glittering place she had imagined, but rather a functional labyrinth filled with black-wheeled trunks, clothing racks, and busy people walking quickly with a clear sense of purpose.
Patricia felt like the only person there without a purpose.
"This way," said the giant crew member, who, it turned out, was named Dave, as he led her through the chaos towards a room with a slightly ajar door.
From inside, Patricia could hear a familiar laugh—a sound she usually heard on YouTube interviews. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid Dave could hear it. Her usually sharp brain could now only produce one repeating sentence: Don't be weird, don't be weird, don't be weird.
Dave knocked on the door. "Andrea? The fan from Germany is here."
The laughter from inside stopped. The door opened wider, and there stood Andrea Corr, still in her stage clothes, smiling brightly. "Ah, brilliant! Come in, come in! Don't be shy!"
Patricia stepped inside, and her entire operating system immediately crashed.
On a sofa sat Caroline and Jim, who smiled kindly at her. Across from them, Sharon Corr—the Sharon Corr—stood holding a bottle of water, her gaze a mixture of curiosity and a mother's vigilance. They were all real. They were all in the same room as her.
This is your moment. Say something clever, Patricia. Something impressive, the functioning part of her brain thought.
"Hello," she said, in a voice that sounded more like a mouse squeak. "The concert... was nice."
Nice? her mind screamed. After everything you just saw, the best word you could come up with is 'nice'?! You describe toast as 'nice'!
Andrea laughed, seeming not to notice Patricia's internal panic. "Just nice? I thought we were brilliant!" she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Patricia, is it? I'm Andrea. These are my siblings, you surely know them."
Patricia could only nod stiffly, feeling like a mannequin.