Mr. Jaspers watched Mr. Barrie's play in the back of the audience, his gloved hands being wrung together as he bit his lower lip.
The little light that was Tinkerbell was starting to fade as the supposed fairy drank the poison meant for Peter Pan.
This greatly distressed the fragile young man and he looked around rapidly for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.
The other ushers were watching with bored looks on their faces, not paying the play much attention.
"Is…Is the little fairy going to die?" he whispered to one and was answered with a look that asked if he still had all of his marbles.
"How should I know? It's a fucking light, Jaspers!" the usher hissed at him and Jaspers winced and sighed as he looked back at the stage.
"Tinkerbell is almost dead…You have to show that you believe to save her…" Peter was telling the audience and Jaspers' chest tightened as his heart started to race.
He believed in fairies and he did not want Tinkerbell to die.
"You have to clap your hands and believe!"
The children that Mr. Barrie had invited to see his play desperately wanted to clap, but they were too afraid of being yelled at for making noise.
The adults wanted to clap too, but they figured that since the children were not clapping, then neither should they.
Then, they heard someone clapping desperately and all eyes looked to the back of the auditorium.
"I believe in fairies!" Mr. Jaspers screamed, stopping his clapping for a moment to take off his white gloves before going back to clapping, louder this time.
"Don't die, little fairy!"
The other ushers groaned and proceeded to act like they did not know him but soon enough the children joined in on the clapping and very soon so did the adults.
His hands were becoming red and very sore, but Mr. Jaspers did not care, his eyes were locked on the dim light.
"She's alive!" Peter laughed as the light suddenly sprang to life and everyone cheered, Mr. Jaspers cheering the loudest.
At the gathering after the play, Mr. Jaspers was asked into Charles Frohman's office and his cheeks were the same shade of red as his hands as he shyly knocked on the door.
Slowly he stepped inside, bowing his head.
"You…You wanted to see me, sir?" he stammered nervously.
"Mr. Jaspers, you haven't been here long have you?" Charles asked, cocking an eyebrow as he turned to him.
Charles nodded at this and calmly took out a cigar, taking the time to light it as Mr. Jaspers stared at the ground, his chest starting to hurt again as he thought about getting fired and what would he do then for money?
"You believe in fairies?"
"You were the first one to shout that out during the performance."
"I…I do, sir." He admitted, rubbing the back of his head shyly. "My mother always told me stories about them…I suppose I let myself get carried away."
"You certainly did! Lost your composure over a little light!"
Jaspers flinched at this.
"What a marvelous idea."
Blinking, Jaspers frowned as he looked up and he was taken aback when he saw that Charles was smiling.
"Your outburst got everyone to participate didn't it?"
Charles nodded and smiled and Jaspers' eyes slowly grew wide as he held out a cigar to him.
"He was right about you." Charles said. "You've got nerves wound up tighter than a virgin's…"
"Sorry." Charles chuckled, unable to resist screwing with him at this point. "Relax, Jaspers. You did a good job tonight. Go home and get some rest now, eh? I suspect that we'll be sold out tomorrow night."
With a small smile, Jaspers took the cigar and he nodded, bowing slightly.
"Thank you, sir."
"One last thing."
"Tinkerbell never dies in the play. You can relax when that part comes up."
Jaspers smiled slightly, and he shrugged his thin shoulders as he looked at his boss.
"She'll never die because I'll always believe and clap for her and the rest of the fairies of Neverland."