The house is quiet, and everyone is asleep. Hunger gnawed at me so badly I thought my stomach would start digesting my innards. Raiding the refrigerator proved fruitful. There was a half-eaten chicken ready for the plundering. Eating it cold right there with the fridge’s door wide open felt glorious. Char’s chicken had never tasted so appetizing. Ravenous, I still needed to eat. Opening the pantry yielded a box of unhealthy sugary cereal. I ate it straight out of the box. Finishing the cereal, I feel bloated and stuffed. Clearing the dishes and cleaning up after my rampage is the last thing on my mind, so I left the mess for the morning. I hope Charlene doesn’t get too mad. Bed beckons.
A frantic pounding on the front door brought me out of my sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
As I woke, I saw the time. It is late. Who could be pounding on our door?
“Nathan, who do you think it is?” Char asked.
“I don’t know. Go check on Mo, and make sure she is okay. Things have been so crazy in our lives, I’m a little worried. If you hear gunfire, the both of you bug-out.” The pounding became more urgent. I grabbed my 45 from the gun safe. Checking the safety, I slid in the magazine and chambered a round. I am not about to take any chances. There has been a slew of home invasions lately, and I won’t let our home be one.
At the front door, standing a couple of paces away to give me some time if they break down the door. “You at the door, identify yourself. I have a gun, and I will use it!”
“Nathan, it’s Matt and company.”
I looked through the peephole. It is Matt and a major percentage of the cast. I yelled at the crowd through the door. “Are you guys drunk? It’s o-dark-thirty, and I was asleep!”
“We have news, and it can’t wait until morning.”
“Alright, give me a minute,” I put the safety back on my gun and put it away. After putting on my robe, I stuck my head into Mo’s room and told Char everything is fine, and she can go back to sleep. After that, I began storming to the front door.
“Okay, what’s so important you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell me?” I asked as I opened the door. Everyone begun pushing past me to gather in the living room. All the cast members are holding newspapers, and waving them about as they are filing in. Looking at Matt, “What gives?”
Before Matt could answer, Charlene came in her robe. Matt acknowledged her, “Sorry for waking you, Ms. Embers…”
Char spoke right up, “It’s Mrs. Embers if you please.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Embers, but this news can’t wait.” Matt took a newspaper from under his arm and handed it to me. “Read it out loud so everyone can hear.”
“Parents outraged over the handling of…”
“Nathan, read the review of our production. You’re just as bad as the rest of them!” Matt exclaimed.
I cleared my throat and began. “This reviewer must do something I have never done before: I must contradict my earlier review of Man of La Mancha. When I first saw this production, I was appalled. I could go through my whole earlier review, but that is, excuse the cliché, old news. Now, I am here to sing its praises. I didn’t want to see it a second time, but I was asked by a very pretty young woman to give it a second chance. She was most convincing. I am not sure exactly why I agreed to see it again, but for whatever reason, I am glad I did. The closing night for Man of La Mancha restored this reviewer’s faith in the theater and its people. The whole cast came together under what must have been the leadership of the new Don Quixote. In a daring move, the title role had been recast with one Nathan Embers. I dare say his rendition of the title role was as near to a perfect performance as one can give without surpassing the best rendition of this musical performed by Richard Kiley, which I had the privilege of seeing on Broadway.
Mr. Embers’ whole performance was the greatest homage to another man’s work I have ever witnessed. It was like he summoned up the ghost of Mr. Kiley to give him one last chance to perform this Tony award-winning musical.” I glanced up at Char, and as our eyes met, I widened my eyes and gave my head a slight shake no. I continued. “It is a shame this production didn’t find its groove until its closing night. I am happy to say, this reviewer would most love to see it again.”
Being a little overwhelmed by the review, I remained quiet for a moment. A cheer broke out.
After the cheer died away, and all the congratulations petered out, Matt approached me and said calmly. “Nathan, you saved us and this production. Now, here’s the good news. The rest of our engagements were canceled a few days ago.”
“How is it good news?”
“Give me a minute. Based on this review,” Matt tapped the paper in my hand, “And the fact the theater owners saw you performing the show, they offered to extend our contract for three months!” Another cheer went up.
Moiraine came walking into the living room and stood by her mother. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she said, “What’s all the yelling about?”
Char began to brag a bit, “These people are telling your daddy how well he did in the play he performed in.”
“Is that all? I’ve done two plays at school. I thought it was something important. I’m going back to sleep. Please don’t yell anymore.” With that, The Mighty Mo went back to her room.
Matt smiled at Moiraine, as did everybody else. You could hear several people stating things like “Pretty girl” and “She is adorable.” Matt continued, “There is one little catch. They will extend only if you continue to do the performances.” Matt paused for a dramatic effect. “So, what do you say? Will you do it? Remember, everyone’s career is riding on it. No pressure.”
While I cogitated, Char spoke up, “I think Miss Moiraine has the right idea. I am going back to bed.” She turned and left.
I have a great deal to consider. My thoughts are traveling faster than the speed of light. “Alright, I’ll do it.” In the voice of Genie from Aladdin, I quoted, “There are a few, uh, provisions, a, a couple Quid Pro Quos.”
Matt looked resigned as he said, “Okay, how much do you want?” I motioned to the dining room table where we sat and negotiated as everyone else milled about. Matt stood up and laughed, “You drive a hard bargain, but you got it.”
“All of this is contingent on my wife’s approval,” I stated. I heard a male from the cast say, “Grow a pair, Nathan.” I hate that phrase.
Matt ignored the voice and said, “Let me know tomorrow what your answer is.” We shook hands. After a few more pats to my back, everyone left to go back to the party.
Crawling into bed, I hoped I could fall back asleep. Wrong! My mind was spinning like I had finished binging on a six-pack of Diet Pepsi. Three months of generous paychecks! I am imagining spending the money already. In my mind, I heard Topol start to sing “If I Were a Rich Man” from Fiddler on the Roof. After a few minutes of easy listening, Char rolled over to face me and placed her hand on my chest. “Nathan, I am proud of you. For once, your memory served a purpose other than winning arguments,” Charlene leaned in and gave my cheek a light kiss.
“Char, they want me to play the role for eight shows a week for the next three months.”
“That’s a bit of a grueling schedule,” Char said as she yawned. “Do you get any days off, and when do you start?”
“I understand Mondays will be dark, and we reopen on Friday night. I’m not going to do it if I don’t have your blessing,” I declared and waited for a reply.
After a few moments of silence, Charlene started gently snoring. I took a cue from my wife. Closing my eyes, I drifted off.
I had been up so late the night before that I slept in. My daughter woke me.
“Daddy, breakfast is ready. Mommy says it is time to wake up.” Once I started to rise, Mo went running out of the room, yelling, “Mommy, Daddy’s up.”
Inhaling deeply, I could smell breakfast was indeed ready. Food awaits, and I hurried along to the table. We sat down and began enjoying the food. After breakfast, Char and I worked on the dishes while Moiraine
went to play in her room. “Char, you never told me how you feel about my doing the production for the next three months. So, what do you think?”
“Nathan, I was half asleep when you told me. It’s a little foggy. Remind me.”
I reminded Char of the whole offer. “Well, what do you think? Should I take the offer?”
“Can you really do it for three months?”
“I won’t lie to you. It will be a bit taxing doing both matinees and evening performances. Those three months will fly by though. At least it isn’t a roadshow. Moving from one city to another after a couple of weeks only to start the whole process again is not my idea of a wonderful time.”
“It is up to you. You’ll only be home to eat and sleep. Moiraine and I will miss you.”
“I’ll miss you both more than you know, but we will have Mondays. We can plan special activities.” I looked at the clock. “Char, I’m running late. I have to go. The theater won’t clean itself.”
“You’re still going to do the janitor job, too?” Char asked with a little judgmental disbelief.
“Yes. Things are tight. I haven’t wanted to worry you, but we can use the extra money. We are about tapped out.”
Charlene stopped washing the dishes and turn to me. She dried her hands and placed them on my face. Looking at me with her, don’t challenge me expression; she said, “Nathan, your health is more important than money. Promise me you will stop if it gets too much for you.”
“I promise I will stop before it kills me. Cross my heart and hope to die; stick a needle in my eye. Or would you prefer the unbreakable vow?”
“No jokes, Nathan. I am serious. You push yourself too hard sometimes. You’re not only a paycheck, and Moiraine needs a living father, not the memory of one.”
I pulled Char’s hands away from my face and kissed each of her palms tenderly. I gazed upon my wife. After all these years and she still blushes at me. “Charlene Louise Embers, I promise not to work myself to death.” There was a long pause as we looked at each other. “Unless I have leave to do so from you.”
She pulled her hands out of mine and said, “Always the joke. Out of my kitchen and get ready for work. By the way, don’t leave such a mess when you want a snack.”
I tipped an imaginary hat to Char and said, “Yes, mum.” I needed to make ready for work, but first, I want to talk to Moiraine.
Knocking on Mo’s door, I waited for the, “Come in.” Entering her room, I beheld the mess. Looking around, I felt a little dizzy. All her dirty clothes are over in a corner. All the guys, her sleeping toys, are no longer piled on her toy chest. This morning they are spread all over the room in various poses. She had one of her Barbies looking out of a window of her dollhouse. The rest of them were posed like they are watching the one in the house. It amazes me how Moiraine can pay no mind to how her room looks. Even I, messy to the core, could not tolerate this chaos for long. She was enthralled in her Etch-A-Sketch. Taking a place next to her on the bed, I began.
“Mo, why are the guys all over your room instead of in their place?”
“They all jumped on a grenade to protect me.” She paused a moment. “They took one for the team.”
“Your grandpa has been talking to you about the war again, hasn’t he?” I received a grunt of agreement from Mo. “And the Barbie in the dollhouse, why is she by herself?”
While she continued to play with her Etch-A-Sketch, our conversation continued. “She was bad, so I put her in time-out.” Okay? I decided not to even ask.
“Mo, I want to talk to you.”
“Sure, Daddy. What’s up?” Her eyes never left the Etch-A-Sketch.
I put my hands on the toy and gently pulled. “Mo, I want your attention.” Taking the toy, I placed it on the other side of me out of Mo’s view. She looked up at me and waited. “Daddy is going to take a job for the next three months.”
“I’m glad, Daddy.”
“Well, Moiraine, I am going to be extra busy. We won’t see each other much.”
“How much, Daddy?”
“We will only see each other on Mondays.”
“But I have school on Mondays. Can I stay home from school on those days, so we can be together?” Her eyes had a bit of a gleam in them as she made her request.
“Nice try, Mo. But you know your mother would have a fit if you took every Monday off from school.”
Mo shrugged her shoulders, “Yes, Mommy would not like it at all.”
“Moiraine, will you be okay?”
“Yea, it will be okay. I don’t see you much anyways. Mommy will take care of me.” She stood and reached around me to retrieve her Etch-A-Sketch. Moiraine sat back down and renewed her creative efforts.
My heart began hurting. The thought of my daughter unphased about my absence is tearing my heart to pieces. Brave face. I can’t let her see how wounded I am in my expression. “Okay, Mo, I am going to work.”
“Alright, Daddy.” She leaned over to let me kiss her cheek all the while, keeping her eyes on her work.
As I closed the door behind me, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Quickly, I wiped them away. I need to be strong. Char walked by me but stopped short on her way to our bedroom.
“Nathan, are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.” Char stopped me from moving on. “I have something in my eyes. I’ll be fine.” Char reached up and wiped a tear away from my left eye.
“Funny. Most people don’t get motes in both eyes at the same time.”
“Let it go, Char. I’m going to make a lunch then leave for work,” I announced. Wasting no time, I rushed into the kitchen only to find Charlene had already made my lunch. The gesture made my heart warm. Grabbing the brown bag, I headed out the door and to work. Before I even took three steps, I heard Moiraine crying.
“Huggies. Kissies. Kissies. Huggies.” The front door burst open, and Moiraine came running out. She wrapped herself around my legs. “Daddy, you left without giving me huggies and kissies.” She said these words in a halting cadence as tears flowed down her face.
“I’m sorry, but I did tell you I was going to work.” Charlene came up behind Mo as I talked. I spent too few moments talking with Mo and easing her grievance. My heart broke. I hate seeing her in pain. I wondered, will she ever outgrow this? It is my sincerest hope she never does. I know she will. Our relationship will grow and change, but a father can hope she will always want huggies and kissies. We all said goodbye, and I hoofed it double-time to the bus.
They left a terrible mess for me to clean-up. I wasted no time in starting my duties. About half-way through the cleaning, Mr. Shadowman started playing his games. I called out, “I have no time for this.” This creature started dancing all around me. It would turn sideways to me so I couldn’t see it. Next, it would appear from somewhere else. It did this half-a-dozen times. Ignoring it seemed to be the best course of action.
Turning my back on the creature, I started mopping the stage. Standing up after the first pass with the mop, Marlene, Char’s dead mother, materialized in front of me.
“Nathan, Char wanted to tell you…” Marlene let loose with a blood-curdling scream and fainted. She hit the floor with a thud. I turn around to see Mr. Shadowman charging at me.
I tapped into my will and called up Lar. He is the spirit of a long-dead warrior who has lived countless lives behind the eyes of men doomed to die in a losing battle. He is dressed this time as a German infantryman from World War One. “Lar, can you hold it off while I see to Fainting Frida here?” I heard the creature in my mind bellowing out a huge laugh.
“Nathan, you can’t mean…”
“Just do it!” After my command, I bent down and picked-up Marlene. I let out a groan as I lifted her. Carrying her out into the sunshine, where I am sure Mr. Shadowman can’t follow. I thought, how can ectoplasm weigh so much? As I kicked open the backstage door, Lar’s shriek filled the air.
I put Marlene down gently in the sun. I ran back to the stage and saw what I coul
d only describe as the creature enveloping Lar. Screaming, I threw out a challenge to the creature. Lar’s sounds of agony filled my ears and racked my soul. The creature paid me no never mind. Panicking, I had no clue what to do. My sheer will had been useless before. If I don’t do something soon… I ran to the master lighting board. Too long. This run is taking too long. I should be faster! Arriving at the master board sucking wind, I pushed every damn button to bring up all the lights on the stage. Screams of frustration and pain-filled my mind as the creature winked out. Lar’s body, for lack of a better term, was prone on the stage. Racing back to see to him, his ethereal body was smoking and horribly scarred.
He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You should have listened to me.” Lar passed out. His wounds are weeping; what I could only guess is ghost blood. In all my travels about the theater, I saw no first aid kit. I don’t even know if it would help. I can’t stand here and watch him fade from the afterlife. The sewing room has plenty of cloth, maybe I can fashion some makeshift bandages. Rushing to the sewing room, I grabbed a bolt of cloth I thought would make solid bandages. Wasting no time, I returned to Lar. Hastily, I ripped up some cloth and made dressings for his wounds. My bandaging job didn’t look pretty, but his wounds stopped weeping. The smoke rising from Lar stopped as well. It had an acidic smell as though Lar had been dipped in a caustic bath.
Calling out his name, “Lar.” He didn’t stir. I tried again this time with a piece of my will, “Lar.” After a moment, he began to rouse.
Lar hoarsely spoke, “I know I’m dead, but this hurts like Hell.” He winched in pain as he tried to laugh at his own jest.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” I asked as I tried to come up with a plan. I don’t think he should fade back to the ether. I don’t believe his real dressings would fade with him, and if they didn’t fade too, his wounds could open back up. There is so much I don’t know! He said, “What is that thing? It looked hideous and menacing.”
The Calling Page 15
