[What's Luck Got To Do With It 02.0] Down on Her Luck

by Carmen DeSousa

  If Howard didn’t show, or I didn’t get the role, no one had to know I’d even gone. I felt like a whipped dog crawling back to her master with her tail between her legs. Only, I really was done. I absolutely refused to take any crap this time.

  For the first time in my long career, I felt liberated, felt as though I were free to say, Take this part and shove it! Definitely couldn’t hurt at this point. Being polite hadn’t earned me any roles. Maybe I needed to start being more difficult … more like Michelle appeared to be.

  Once again, I sat in a barren, windowless room with twelve other women, all in their early to late thirties, and all rehearsing the same lines I would hopefully get to speak today. Other than plastic chairs and a desk at the front, the room didn’t even have pictures.

  To pass the time, I counted the ceiling tiles a hundred or so times, and when I still hadn’t been called, I switched to counting the divots within each tile as I thought about my lines and how they correlated with my life. How my chosen career path had squeezed every bit of life out of me until there was nothing left.

  I didn’t have my sides, since I had thrown them away after the last letdown, but I didn’t need them. I’d sat here so many hours studying them that I was positive I wouldn’t forget them for the rest of my life, just like my high school play. Certain lines just stuck with me, like a jingle I couldn’t shake.

  One by one, the monitor led women to the next room. Once again, I was one of the last women in the room. Did that mean Howard would leave before I had a chance to read my lines again? Everything in me told me I should just leave now, but I decided not to. Instead, I rehearsed what I’d say if I heard, “We’ll let you know …”

  The words that entered my mind actually made me smile, boosting my confidence. I’d never spoken back to anyone, ever. Not even to rude customers. I’d always just accepted whatever the casting directors, customers, and employers had to say.

  But not today. Today, I would go out with a bang, so I’d have something to talk about for the rest of my life. I would make sure to take a mental image of the shocked faces. Maybe they’ll be recording the auditions today, and my momentary lapse of reason will end up on YouTube as a disgruntled actress, like the outtakes from American Idol.

  Just thinking about it made me giggle beneath my breath, causing the last few women in front of me to turn around in their chairs.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Just remembered something funny.”

  Without a word, each of them went back to rehearsing their lines.

  Everything in me wanted to break out in more giggles … or maybe in a song, since Take this Job and Shove It had been playing in my head since I’d thought about it earlier. Only, I continued to replace the word Job with Part. It’d be a perfect chance to show Howard that I could hold a tune, too.

  An hour later, I was the only one left in the room. Even the monitor had been gone for several minutes.

  Finally, the door opened, and the monitor summoned me with the crook of her finger.

  I followed, finding myself on the massive stage again, the lights brighter than the first three times I’d stood in the same spot.

  The reader walked center stage, his face bored, just like every reader I’d ever worked with. I was pretty sure it was their job to speak as monotone as possible, to see if the actor would be able to work when given nothing but words.

  The CD gave his cue, and the reader turned to me, “Why are you here?”

  To land this role, or to tell off your crew, I thought angrily, but stuck to my line. “To get stronger,” I droned. When the character had responded in the book, she was timid, meek, depressed, tired. The way I felt right now. Her tone hadn’t been mad.

  “Why?” The reader’s voice was flat.

  “Because I don’t want to be weak,” I said, still soft, but I stood taller. I wasn’t weak. I refused to be weak. I’d wasted twenty years being weak.

  “Why?” he demanded.

  “Because I don’t want to be afraid,” I said louder. I wasn’t afraid of these haughty people anymore. I don’t need this part. I have a home, a family, and a man who loves me— actually, two men claimed to love me. And Buddy.

  “Afraid of what?”

  You! I wanted to scream, but I growled, “Everything!” Everything about this business that squeezed the life out of me for the last twenty years, I wanted to say, but I was pretty sure I didn’t need to say it. Based on the reader’s eyes, my expression said everything that I didn’t.

  “Then let me see you.”

  I shifted my stance as I’d learned in the kickboxing classes I’d taken over the years. I imagined Howard Edwards’ face and thrusted my fist forward with a rebel yell as though I’d made contact with his nose and shoved the bone through his brain.

  “Again. Harder.”

  I struck air again, harder this time, then released my best kick-to-the-groin move to the invisible entity in front of me.

  “Face your fear,” the reader said, and I instantly visualized my mother telling me not to give up on my dream. But no matter what happened, I’d never be a slave to my career again.

  “I hate you! I hate you!” I screamed, pummeling the faces of twenty years of casting directors. I would do this. I would take control of the rest of my life and not let any CD, director, or producer ever make me feel as though I weren’t good enough ever again.

  The reader got up in my face. “Give your fear a name.”

  “Loneliness!” I wailed. “I don’t want to be afraid to be alone!” And I didn’t. I didn’t want to put my career in front of my happiness ever again. If I landed the part, fine, but my health and my family would come first, I silently avowed.

  The reader actually flashed me a small smile, then looked to the CD.

  Exhausted from the small amount of exercise, especially after I’d gorged myself all weekend, I inhaled quietly, attempting to catch my breath in case I had to say something else.

  A man stepped to the side of the bright spotlight. Clap, clap, clap. I blinked, attempting to see beyond the white starbursts blinding me. The man was tall, had salt-and-pepper hair. Howard. I’d forgotten to look for him this time. I was just happy I was finally allowed to say my lines on stage, and worrying about whether Howard was watching hadn’t crossed my mind.

  Wait! What just happened ? Was Howard clapping for me?

  Howard stepped forward a few feet again, then cocked his head ever so slightly, the way he’d done on the outside patio last week. He looked down at his clipboard, then back up at me. “Ackerman? Do you live in Squirrel Hill?”

  Shocked, I stepped forward. Was I supposed to bow? I mean … he was known as one of the best producers in the world, and he was talking to me, a nobody, as Michelle had so eloquently put it. “Ummm …” Damn. Why had I stuttered? “Yes, sir. Well, technically, I live in New York, but I was born in Squirrel Hill. My mother still lives there.” And now I was blathering like an idiot.

  One side of Howard’s face lifted, and he gave me a soft nod. “I thought I recognized the name.”

  “Oh, yes. A friend of mine said you grew up in Squirrel Hill.”

  Howard raised his eyebrows. “A friend?”

  “Yeah. Ummm …” Damn. Stuttering again. “Klein. Markus Klein. His father knew your father, said he helped find you a house.” Connections, no matter how small, my last agent had told me. Anything that makes them remember you.

  Howard nodded. “Yes, he did.” Howard looked as though he wanted to say something else, but then he shook it off. Literally. He walked to the CD, spoke a few words that I couldn’t hear, and then looked back up at me. “Great job, Ms. Ackerman. As long as your background check goes through, the role is yours.”

  What? Just like that? No waiting by the phone for weeks on end? I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy the Thanksgiving holiday. We’ll be in contact next week,” the CD added, dismissing me.

  I blew out a breath as I attempted to hold back my tears. My cheeks lifted
, seemingly of their own accord, which seemed to make it even harder not to cry. I whirled, looking for the exit, and the reader caught my eye, and smiled. He pointed to something behind me.

  I turned and saw the door, then turned back to him. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He simply nodded. I had a sneaking suspicion he was part of the reason I got another chance.

  I scooped up my purse and ran through the corridor to the exit, anxious to get outside, so I could cry, scream, howl, dance … all of the above.

  At the glass doors by the old-fashioned ticket booth, I whirled around to see the posters for upcoming plays and events, and couldn’t stop the tears as I glanced at each one. My name would be on a movie poster.

  “I did it, Zayde. Mom. I did it!” I bit down on my lip to hold back any more outbursts.

  Since the tears refused to stop, I hurried out of the theater and rushed down the sidewalk for the car. I tugged the door open and fell into the seat, not even caring if the Taurus refused to start, since I wouldn’t be able to drive for a few minutes in my condition anyway.

  “The lead in a major motion picture!” I screamed, looking at the roof of the Taurus. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  As every other man, woman, and child in the world can attest, including Jane Austen and Bridget Jones, it is a truth universally acknowledged that the moment something great happens in your life, something awful is sure to follow.

  That’s the only thing I could think of when I walked into the house and heard someone puking.

  I had known something was wrong. I’d tried to ignore it, but deep down, I’d seen the signs:

  Mom reminding me that I hadn’t been home for a holiday in years. Mom shaking her head for me to drop my questions about Russell. The insistence that I was needed, when I’d never been needed by either of them. My entire life, I’d been the needy one.

  As quietly as I could, I ascended the stairs.

  She was there, hunched over the toilet.

  I leapt forward and pulled her chestnut hair away from the toilet, the way she’d done for me on nights when I’d been too young and had drunk too much, and ended up hugging the toilet all night.

  When she finished, I reached for a towel, then supported her body, which felt so light, even though she’d always been larger than me, and escorted her back to her bed.

  “I’m sorry,” my sister had the nerve to say.

  “What is it, Ray? Why haven’t you told me that you were sick?”

  She reached up and brushed away the tears that were falling down my cheeks. “I didn’t want you to worry. Didn’t want you to feel you had to come back for me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not the sickness as much as it is the treatment. I have stage III breast cancer. My doctor has been trying to shrink the tumors enough that I can have a breast-conserving surgery, but it’s no use —” Her voice cracked on a cry. “I’m going to lose both of my breasts, Lain. He says he has to perform a double mastectomy on me, said it’s my only chance.”

  “Oh, Raylene!” I hugged her against my body. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her frail body shook as I held her.

  “I’ll take care of you, Ray. I promise. I’ll move back home permanently and take care of you.”

  13

  Rejecting the Dream

  Michelle’s voicemail picked up, stating that she wouldn’t be returning calls until next week.

  Of course, the Thanksgiving holiday.

  The line beeped, and I froze. I didn’t even know Michelle’s last name.

  “Ummm …” I rolled my eyes at my stuttering again. “Michelle, this is Alaina Ackerman. I know the CD said he would call me after you ran a background check, but I didn’t want you to waste the money, since I can’t accept the role. I have an emergency in the family, so I will have to pass on this opportunity. Please thank Howard Edwards for offering me the chance at a lead role, but I simply cannot accept right now. Thank you. Bye.”

  I clicked End on the phone and then just let my arms fall to my sides as I inhaled and exhaled a long breath. “That’s it then. The deed is done.”

  “Call her back!” Raylene demanded from behind me.

  Ignoring my sister, I lifted my phone and clicked the Command button, then touched the Phone tab. I swiped away the sent call and the received call from Michelle, making the phone number disappear immediately. “I can’t,” I said as I turned to Raylene. “I just deleted the phone number.”

  Raylene grabbed the phone out of my hands and glared at the screen. “What is wrong with you?”

  I bit down on my lip and shook my head. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “That’s not funny, Alaina.” Raylene staggered backward, so I reached out and steadied her, then led her to the sofa. “I’m fine!” she barked. “I don’t want you to do this; I don’t want you to sacrifice your dream because of me. This …” She fluttered her hands in front of her body. “This’ll pass.”

  I sat down beside my sister, and she wrapped her arms around me, the way she had when Daddy had died, then Bubbie, then Zayde. Raylene had always been there for me when our mother had to work. The least I could do was help her when she needed me for the first time in our lives.

  Other than our sniffles and the soft tick of the clock on the mantel, the house was utterly quiet. Eerily quiet. I’d missed this solitude, though. In New York, my mind felt as though it worked 24/7, since even when I slept, I could hear the sounds of the city.

  Raylene released a long, exhausted breath and I pulled back to look at her. “I got what I wanted, Ray. I landed the lead part in a major motion picture. I never said I had to actually perform the role.”

  She choked out a half-laugh, half-cry. “Thank you, Laina, but it’ll be fine. I’ll have the surgery, and then I’ll be fine.”

  “Liar …” I said. “I spent the last hour researching stage III cancer. I’m sure you know more than I do, but from everything I read, you’ll need more chemo after the surgery, too. Which means you’ll continue to be sick. And look at you … you’re skin and bones now.”

  “Gee thanks.” Raylene raised her arm to smack me, but then dropped her hand back in her lap as though she didn’t even have the strength to hold up her arm.

  I pulled back and stared her in the eyes, the way she’d done to me so many times when she was taking control of a situation. “First things first, I’m moving you into Zayde’s room. You have no business walking up three flights of stairs. I’ll have all of your stuff moved down tonight. Then, I’m going to make you a pot of chicken and rice soup. You’re not working, I take it?”

  Raylene shook her head. “I had to take a medical leave of absence. I’m just too weak.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll get a job waiting tables at night so I can be here during the day, then Mom can be here with you at night.”

  My sister smiled, but it was a feeble effort, worse than her attempt at smacking me. “Alaina, please don’t give up because of me.”

  “I was giving up anyway,” I said. “I only went to that stupid audition because Mom asked me to go. And hey, I get to go out knowing I turned down Howard Edwards the Second. How many women can say that?”

  Raylene actually burst out a laugh this time. “Not too many. Only an Ackerman woman would do that.”

  “Damn straight!” I said. “Okay. You lie down here. I’m going to make you something to eat, then start on your room.” I forced a smile and then hopped up and headed to the kitchen.

  “Alaina …”

  I turned. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “What are sisters for?”

  She nodded, pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa, and then rested her head on one of the round pillows Bubbie had made.

  It took every ounce of power I had, but I absolutely refused to cry. I would be strong for Raylene.

  The door swung open just as I’d squatted down in front of the kitchen cabinet. Buddy came running across the floor, all wigg
les and wags, making a beeline straight for me.

  My hands automatically wrapped around him, and I stood, clutching him to my chest. Buddy kept still, simply lifting his head so he could lick the bottom of my chin, as if he knew I was upset. Then Markus wrapped his arms around me, and the tears fell. I held back the audible cries, though. I might not be able to stop the stupid waterworks, but I refused to let Raylene hear me. I wanted her to be able to count on me.

  Markus ran his fingers across my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  “How did you know?” I whispered. When we’d talked yesterday, Markus had said that he couldn’t make it until after five tonight.

  “Ray texted me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I was angry that my mother and sister had told Markus but not me, but I didn’t have room in my heart for anger. No, my heart was filled to the brim with anguish for my sister.

  “She made me promise,” Markus said, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, but I also had to respect Ray’s feelings. We’ve become good friends over the years.”

  “I noticed.” I sniffed. “Nothing else, though?” The last thing I wanted to do was take that from my sister, too. If she was in love with Markus, I’d step back.

  “No … never. I only have eyes for you. I’ve never stopped loving you, Laina.”

  I set Buddy on the floor and threw my arms around Markus. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry. It’s my fault. I let you go. I never told you.” Markus touched me under the chin. “But I’m telling you now. I love you, Alaina. I don’t want you to leave, but if you decide to go back to New York, or Hollywood, or Timbuktu for that matter, I’ll go with you if you’ll have me.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. If you feel the same way about me. If you love me and want me with you, that is. I’m a writer. I can write anywhere in the world.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Markus. I’m staying right here in Squirrel Hill so I can take care of my sister.”