Rejected Writers Take the Stage

by Suzanne Kelman

  “How are things with the trapdoor?” I asked.

  “All ready to go,” he said optimistically. “I’ve had my young boy up and down on it two or three times already. It’s running slick as a whistle. Ms. Lavinia is going to have the smoothest ride of her life.”

  I then spoke to the crew in charge of winching up Lottie on the other side of the stage. “How are things going back here?” I inquired.

  They also gave me the thumbs-up.

  My last stop was over to Jimmy. He was busy on side stage, listening to music on his iPod as he did last-minute alterations to his mixtures. “Tell me you’ve got it right tonight,” I implored.

  “Oh yes,” he said brightly. “I’ve been here most of the day blowing things up. I’ve mixed it perfectly this time.” The hardware on his body jangled and glistened merrily as he nodded his head with enthusiasm.

  I started to relax. Maybe Stacy had been right about dress rehearsals.

  I moved through to the dressing rooms. Lavinia was already busy plastering herself in her green makeup, and Lottie was fluffing up her hair, which she had just released from hot rollers. A pink, sparkly tiara was being lovingly placed on her head by Gracie. “How are you doing?” I asked them both.

  “Great,” Lottie and Lavinia said in unison.

  I found Flora. She sat, pale and anxious, looking into her mirror. I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “Flora, you’re going to be great,” I reassured her. “Please don’t worry. Remember, we’re doing this for Annie, and the community knows that.”

  Giving me a half-hearted smile, she nodded her head as she started to put on her makeup.

  Marcy stomped into the dressing room and huffed loudly. She hung up her costumes on a rail and then, putting one hand firmly on her hip, she pierced me with a look in the mirror.

  “That hippie has added back a piece to my opening costume and I’m not wearing that ballooning affair in the second act,” she said willfully. “I can just about tolerate my first-act costume, but I hate the one in the second act. I just look ridiculous. I want to wear something else. I’ve brought something from my own wardrobe.” She held up a jumpsuit that looked like it would fit so tight, she would have probably had to jump off the roof to get into it. “So, where can I find something else?”

  I sighed deeply. I’d given up arguing with Marcy. “There are more costumes up in the flies in a little room at the back. As long as you approve it through Ruby, then that’s fine. Just make sure that you find something that covers all of your body,” I stressed.

  She huffed again and took her place in front of a mirror and started unpacking numerous bags of makeup.

  I went back to the front of the house to see how things were coming together. Annie had taken it upon herself to clean out the box office, and it positively sparkled. I poked my head through the ticket office door and noticed she was dressed in a long black velvet dress and pearls as she sat on a high stool, merrily taking money and giving out tickets. “How are things, Annie?”

  “Great,” she said. “Look at the line down the street. I think Doris must have threatened everyone in town,” she giggled.

  I looked out the ticket window, and the queue did indeed stretch around the building.

  “People have been so generous,” she stated, showing me the growing pile of bills in her cash box. “Many of them know about the farm and have offered me so much support. I feel so fortunate to live in such a warm and wonderful community.”

  I noticed tears creeping into the corners of her eyes, and I squeezed her arm.

  As I arrived back in the foyer, Martin greeted me, with Stacy on his arm. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, and she was wearing a chic pregnancy gown in black-and-cream silk taffeta.

  “Here we go, then,” he said jovially. “Opening night. How are you feeling, Madam Director?”

  “I will feel much better once we are at the end of act one,” I responded as I walked them down the aisle and showed them to the seats I had saved for them at the front of the auditorium.

  The rest of the cast and crew arrived, including Olivia, who was to play all the accompanying music on her piano from the wings. She was dressed in an ankle-length black sequin gown, with long black gloves and a velvet-and-diamond choker, and her hair was whisked up high, Audrey Hepburn–style.

  As Doris finished her last stage preparations and Ruby pulled and cut the last thread of Ethel’s costume, the cast gathered on the stage. I encouraged them to do their best and make us proud. As they all filed off, Dan pulled the curtains closed. James opened the house.

  I sat next to Martin and Stacy in the front row, waiting nervously for the start of the show as Olivia filled the house with pleasant preshow piano music. The anticipation and excitement in the theater was palpable as people filed in and packed the building. Doris was backstage and in charge now as the curtains opened. I was brimming with joy and anticipation, and the crowd clapped loudly.

  Flora came out onstage with Ethel dragging behind her, along with some of the rest of the cast. Her first words were quiet, but as she was encouraged by the laughter and clapping of the audience, she grew bolder by the minute. Marcy did her entrance, parading on like a regal princess. As usual, she sucked up all the air on the stage, but once she was in front of a real audience, seemed to forget about upstaging Flora and just reveled in the response of the crowd. At least no one forgot their lines, including Ernie, who looked very dapper in his can suit. Even Tanya seemed calmer and more in character as the Scaredy Lemur.

  I started to breathe a sigh of relief.

  Martin leaned over to talk to me. “Not half bad,” he said. “It appears all your hard work has paid off.”

  “We haven’t had the witches’ entrance yet,” I commented.

  The Minchkins filed onstage, and all of a sudden, the flash box went off. I held my breath, but it turned out just about perfect. Enough of a dramatic demonstration to draw joyous gasps from the crowd but not too much to knock Lavinia off her feet as she slid successfully up the trapdoor to emerge through the cloud of exploding smoke. The crowd clapped their approval as Lavinia confronted Flora with her wand lifted high.

  Just one more witch to go, I thought.

  From the side stage, the Pink Witch of Light and Love swooshed onstage as if she had been flying all her life and floated down perfectly, landing on her mark. Could this all be going so right? I couldn’t believe it. The audience loved it, the costumes looked great, and the cast seemed to be pulling it off.

  As the show continued, I started to relax and enjoy it. We got to the end of the first act, and by the enthusiastic applause from the auditorium, I realized it was going really well.

  During the break, Martin, Stacy, and I went out into the foyer to mingle with the Southlea Bay crowd. Suddenly, Annie was by my side.

  “We’ve got a problem,” she said breathlessly. “You have to come backstage.”

  I excused myself from the people I was chatting with and raced down the aisle. Before I even got to the front, I knew what the problem was. Plumes of black smoke came out from under the closed curtain. I raced up the stairs and found my way backstage.

  “It wasn’t me this time,” shouted our pyrotechnics expert as he raced across the stage with a fire extinguisher in his hand. I followed him to the scene in the wings.

  I noticed right away what the problem was. A velvet curtain had somehow become caught and draped itself across one of the lights.

  “That curtain went up in a flash,” Doris shouted to me as she threw the bucket of water set for the end of the show on a flaming piece of cloth that had landed on the stage in front of her. “Once the curtain went, it quickly spread out along all the rigging in the flies,” she continued, stamping on the blackened cloth to ensure it was out.

  Dan was there. So were James and Ernie, all of them working in vain to put out the fire.

  “We have to clear the building,” I shouted. “I’ll go to the dressing rooms,” I yelled at Doris. “You
and Annie should start clearing the foyer.”

  “I’ve already called the fire department,” said Annie as she caught up with me in the aisle.

  I raced to the dressing rooms and let everybody know what was going on and that they needed to leave as fast as they could by the stage door exit. Everyone grabbed robes, costumes, and scraps of clothing—anything to make themselves decent—and raced to exit the building.

  Then James and I swept through the building one more time to check it was empty just as the fire department arrived. I turned to see the stage starting to become consumed in flames.

  I found Stacy and Martin, and we all gathered on the street as the building started to succumb to the fire. I suddenly thought of something. I turned to Annie. “Annie, did you grab the cash box?” I asked, panicked.

  She looked crestfallen.

  “I was too busy getting everybody out,” she said. “I left it in the dressing room for safekeeping. I didn’t even think about it.”

  I put my arm around Annie as we both turned to the flaming building, and Annie started to cry.

  As we huddled together, the smell of burnt, acrid rubber permeated the night air as thick black smoke pumped out into the dark night’s sky. Fingers of angry yellow and orange flames broke windows as the fire attempted to fight its way out of the building. Once free, it licked its way angrily around the walls and doors, blackening and consuming everything in its path. We watched hopelessly as the mock Tudor front doors changed rapidly from white to gray, and the paint bubbled up and peeled away. The little glass ticket booth filled with smoke.

  Doris arrived at our group with her clipboard. “Marcy’s missing,” she said seriously. “Did anyone see her leave the building?”

  Everyone looked blankly at each other and shrugged.

  “I checked everywhere,” I reassured her. “Backstage, toilets, everywhere.”

  “The last time I saw her,” responded Lavinia thoughtfully, “was about ten minutes before the end of the first act. She was moaning about her costume and said she wanted to check out some costumes behind the stage.”

  I froze as Flora’s eye caught mine, and we said at the same time, “The door!”

  I raced to the fire chief, saying, “Marcy may still be in there. There’s a place she could be trapped.”

  I then hurriedly gave him instructions about how to get to the attic above the stage. The fire chief got on his radio, and firefighters raced into the building with a backboard.

  I just felt awful. What if Marcy was still inside? What if she was trapped in the same room Flora and I had gotten stuck in? It was hard enough being in there when there wasn’t a fire. Imagine how terrified Marcy would be with the smoke pouring up the stairs toward her.

  As we stood waiting for what seemed like an eternity, an ambulance horn blared and drew up close to the scene. The firefighters’ activity increased around us as people ran around, shouting instructions to each other.

  “That can’t be good,” commented Lavinia, and I noticed Lottie’s mouth was moving silently in prayer.

  The fire chief approached our group, saying gravely, “Yes, we found her. She was where you said she would be. Do you know her next of kin so we can call them? We need to let them know we’re taking her straight to the hospital.”

  Dan nodded, saying, “They’re out of state. Let me do it. I think it will be easier on them if it comes from me.” He walked away from us to make a call to her family.

  From the building, two firefighters emerged with Marcy’s limp and gray body strapped to a backboard and hurried her to the waiting ambulance.

  Annie collapsed in tears in my arms, not only for Marcy, but for the farm too. This had been her last hope.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  A CAST AT THE HOSPITAL

  Martin took Stacy home, and I went to the hospital. When I arrived at the emergency entrance, I found most of the book club seated in the waiting room. Marcy’s local family members had already arrived with the ambulance and had been whisked away to speak to the doctor. About an hour later, a nurse came out to update us. She informed us in a professional and somber tone that Marcy had inhaled a lot of smoke, and they would know more in the morning. If she made it through the night, she had a good chance of survival, but the next twenty-four hours would be critical.

  We passed the time the best we could. James plied the group with vending machine coffee, Doris paced, Ethel slumped in a chair, and Annie stared into space with half-knitted pink booties in her lap. Flora sat with her head on Dan’s shoulder, the twins beside her, and Ernie was doing magic tricks for a young kid who was waiting for stitches.

  At three in the morning, a nurse came out to tell us that Marcy’s eyes were open, and she was asking for her boyfriend, Dan.

  The relief was palpable in the room as we started to hug one another with relief. Only Flora froze. The nurse continued to ask cheerfully if Dan was in the waiting room.

  “She has to be delusional,” Lavinia said quietly to Flora, who didn’t seem to know what to do. Half of her looked relieved, the other half terrified, as if she appeared to be wondering if Marcy had somehow planned the whole thing. Dan looked at Flora for guidance. She tapped his hand, saying, “It’s okay. Go and see her.”

  The nurse nodded expectantly as Dan stood up.

  “I’m Dan,” he announced, “but we are only—”

  He was about to say “friends” when she cut him off saying, “Oh, good, if you could follow me this way.”

  He walked away, giving Flora a shrug as he went.

  Dan followed the nurse through the corridors, past hospital rooms that were dark and still. The various monitors and machines pulsating a methodical beep as he walked by were all that could be heard emanating from the rooms. Outside Marcy’s door, he was met by a doctor who confirmed that she was, in fact, awake and doing very well for someone who had been through this sort of trauma. He cautioned Dan that it was early, but if she continued to recover in this way, her outlook was very optimistic.

  “It’s good they found her when they did,” the doctor assured him. “A few minutes longer, and who knows what we would have been facing?”

  As Dan walked into the room, Marcy’s uncle stood up and walked toward him.

  “She’s been asking for you, son,” he said as he stretched. “I’m going to go and get a coffee and give you two young people some space.” Then he winked, implying they would want to be alone. Before Dan could set him straight about his and Marcy’s relationship, he was gone.

  Dan approached the bed. Marcy was surrounded by a mass of machinery and was wearing an oxygen mask. Her golden hair was a dusty yellow from the smoke, and her face was gray. He walked to her side, and she fluttered her eyelashes and then opened her eyes. When she saw him, her face seemed to light up.

  “Danny,” she said. Her voice sounded raspy and dry. “You came to see me.”

  Dan pulled a chair close to her. She looked like a little girl, so small in this huge bed. For the first time since their childhood, she sounded more like the girl he remembered: innocent, sweet, and vulnerable.

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  She stretched out her hand for him to take, and he hesitated for a moment, weighing whether he wanted to be this intimate with her. He decided she wanted to be friendly and he gently took her hand.

  “I was dreaming about you,” she said. “I was dreaming about when we were children, and your parents made you that tree house. Do you remember?”

  Dan nodded. It was a distant but pleasant memory. “I painted a sign saying ‘No Girls Allowed,’” he said, “and you and Ruth Tamaler stole it.”

  Marcy closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Those were good memories. You still let me into the tree house behind her back. Do you remember?”

  Dan chuckled. He had completely forgotten about the incident until she brought it up, but now it was vivid in his mind. Ruth leaving for dinner and Marcy creeping back to his yard, her wispy blonde hair tied up in two bunc
hes. She had worn a Mickey Mouse T-shirt. He’d remembered that because she’d told him she had bought it on a trip to Disneyland, and he’d wanted to go there so much.

  Suddenly, there were tears in the corners of her eyes. “We were such good friends as children. Do you think there’s any way we could be that way again?”

  Dan was taken aback by her gentle longing and her need to be close to him, need for friendship. Surely he could do that for her. Wasn’t that what he had always wanted? Flora was still his girl, but it was possible to be Marcy’s friend, too, as long as they kept it on that level.

  “Of course we can be friends, Marcy. I always wanted that.”

  Her eyes opened wide and she seemed so hopeful. “We’ll be good friends?” she said. “That would make me so happy.”

  “Yes,” he said. “It would make me happy too.”

  Marcy’s uncle returned, and he nodded at them both, saying, “Don’t let me interrupt you two. I’m just going to find myself a spot over here until Marcy’s parents arrive. They’re driving up from Medford.”

  “We were just talking,” said Dan, suddenly feeling weird holding Marcy’s hand. “I should probably get back anyway.”

  Marcy looked grief-stricken. “Really?” she said. “You haven’t been here very long.”

  Her uncle interrupted her. “You know, your doctor did say not too long, as you need to get your rest.”

  Marcy’s eyes fluttered closed again, as if responding to the need to sleep.

  Dan gently withdrew his hand and nodded at her uncle. He wasn’t sure whether Marcy had fallen asleep or was just resting, but he crept toward the door.

  Her eyes flashed open again as she called out to him, “You’ll visit again tomorrow, won’t you, Dan? I’ll need your support if I’m to get well again.”

  In the first time since he’d entered the room, Dan sensed the old Marcy. Her request had been couched in a manipulative way, less need and more want. He decided to let it go.

  “Of course I’ll come tomorrow,” he said, and then he slipped out the door and made his way back up the hospital corridor.