Take a Lemon

 

The next rehearsal, “blocking” the first act, was pretty straightforward. Pencil in hand, we moved around the stage as directed, reading our lines. Jared, who was playing Giles, pantomimed a kiss when we reached the appropriate place, but did not attempt to make contact, for which I was grateful. There was no way that I was going to be able to kiss him without first getting into character, and even that was going to take some preparation. After blocking, we walked through the scene a couple more times, trying to get used to the requisite combination of movement and lines, and experimenting a bit with delivery.

“OK, great job all,” Alvin said when we were done. “I need everybody back here Sunday except for Jo, and we’ll block act two. We’ll start getting into character on Monday. Have a good night.” Jo, of course, wasn’t needed for act two, as her character’s death was the climax of act one.

Then he turned directly to me and asked, “Marsh, can you stick around for bit?”

My heart clenched at being singled out like that. What had I done wrong? Given that Marsha had been cast in a much larger role than I had, it seemed likely that I was not as good an actor as she – had Alvin been able to tell? Was he taking me aside to remove me from the cast? I thought for a moment that he might have me trade roles with one of the other girls, but if so… if he wanted me to take over Jo’s role, surely he would have told her to come back for the act two blocking rehearsal.

So I just agonized in private as the rest of the cast trooped out. Several of them gave me odd looks as they did, and I thought they were the same ones who had spoken to Alvin after the previous rehearsal. Maybe they had told him that I was obviously not up to the role?

We were alone in the rehearsal room and Alvin closed the door and then came over to sit down next to me. As I held my breath, he said slowly, “Marsha. What the Hell are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“Have you not heard me say that acting is a team activity? When did you turn into a prima donna? Nikki, Jack, and Naomi all greeted you and you just looked through them as though they were strangers.”

I just stared in astonishment. Marsha had known these people?

“And why did you answer like that when we were talking about previous roles? ‘Lady-in-waiting’? Did you think it would sound better if you didn’t tell everybody you were Guinevere?”

My eyes bulged. I had thought it didn’t matter what I said about high school, as nobody would know. Marsha must have listed past roles on her audition sheet.

“And not to toot my own horn or anything, but don’t you think when discussing past roles for a director’s play, that it would be appropriate to mention roles you’ve done for that director?”

Now my jaw dropped, in addition to everything else. Since I hadn’t been cast last year, I had just assumed that neither had Marsha. I kept forgetting that her life wasn’t necessarily always the same as mine.

“Marsh, I cannot have you creating bad feelings in my cast. I need you to get over yourself. Having a lead does not make you better than everyone else. We need everyone to be able to work together. Do you understand me?”

I understood. I understood that I had screwed up very badly, and that I was on the verge of losing this opportunity. Worse yet, it sounded as though I – or rather, Marsha – had had friends here and I had just hurt them. And for some reason I had started to cry. I couldn’t help myself.

“Alvin,” I started, “I-”

But I wasn’t really used to talking through tears like this. To feeling like this. I needed this relationship. And hadn’t Mr. Condrin told me how important a director was? My only choice now was honesty – at least as much as I could afford.

I took a deep breath and started again, tears and all. “Alvin, to be really honest… I don’t remember. I mean, I remember what I did last year and all… but my memories don’t seem to match… to match what everybody else remembers. I remember auditioning last year… but in my memories, you didn’t cast me. I… I didn’t even know I’d gotten this role until I found the script in my bag. I didn’t know that… that I had played Guinevere in high school. Everything’s so different…”

My tears were just getting worse.

“I really want to do this. I mean it. I want to make it right. I want… I want to be able to work with your cast. To be friends with everybody who remembers me as a friend. I just… I just don’t know who they are…”

Alvin stared at me. I had probably just told him about the stupidest thing he had ever heard, and I was obviously not stable. How could I blame him for bouncing me from his show now? By all rights, he should have simply told me to hand in my script and leave. But he didn’t. He closed his eyes for a moment in disbelief. Then he shocked me.

“Marsh, please tell you didn’t volunteer for that stupid time-warp experiment.”

“You… you know about that?” I had assumed that everyone on campus had either never heard of it, or dismissed it as Jay had.

“You did, didn’t you?” Now he stood up, agitated. “Damn it! Marsh, how could you…?” He sat down again, and put his hand to his forehead. “Yeah, I know about it. Nikki’s brother, Ben…” He exhaled, angry. “He volunteered also. Now he says he used to be about six inches taller, but nobody else remembers that.”

“I heard about that,” I breathed. “The article-“

He cut me off. “Yes, that stupid article. Made it all sound like a real joke, didn’t it?”

“It’s not a joke.”

“No, it’s not. Ben used to be this really happy guy – at least that’s how Nikki and I remember him. Oh… you said you don’t remember Nikki?”

“No.”

“Nikki is my girlfriend, and our costume mistress. You two are, or at least were, pretty good friends, actually. Anyway, Ben used to be a pretty happy guy, but now he’s completely sullen. Says that what he really wants is to play basketball, that he used to be on the team, but when he went to practice, they ran him off. He’s barely trying anymore. Shows no interest in most of the things he used to love…”

“That’s terrible.”

“Mm hmm. So, yeah, I do know about this, this… stupid experiment. And the same thing happened to you?” He paced, agitated. Then he looked straight at me. “At least you seem to be trying. I wish Ben would.”

“It’s the only way I know how to cope,” I explained. “And… well, I am an act- an actress,” I continued, realizing that I had almost said actor. “I’m used to being somebody other than I really am. My problem is, I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be. I don’t know what Mar- what I’m supposed to have done.” I thought he might have caught my stumble, so I explained, “Sometimes I think of myself as ‘Marsh’ and the girl everybody else remembers as ‘Marsha.’”

“Sounds useful. Give me a sec to take this in. I hadn’t expected to have to deal with it with somebody else.” He paced for a bit before coming back to face me. “OK, Let me see if I can fill you in. I cast you as Miss Forsythe in Death of a Salesman. It’s a small role, but I really liked what you did with it. You also helped Nikki with costumes.”

“Makes sense. Marsha was – is – a seamstress.”

“So’s Nikki. So you two hit it off really well. Based on your performance in Salesman, and your audition, of course, I cast you as Peggy in Come Blow Your Horn. Naomi, who is our Miss Casewell, played Connie. And Jack was Hap Loman and Buddy. He’s doing Trotter in Mousetrap, so you’ve worked with both of them before. I assume you don’t want me to tell the cast what happened to you?”

“I’d prefer not. My sister and a friend at home know… and you. Nobody else, so far.”

“More power to you. Ben’s been telling everyone, and it’s alienating people. That may well be his intent, of course.”

“My biggest problem now – aside from not knowing people – is that I don’t know how to sew, and that’s apparently how Marsha made money. I have a bunch of garments in my room now, waiting for me to do something with them, and I haven’t the vaguest idea of where to start.”

“You don’t know how…? Wow, that’s going to take some getting used to. It’s sort of one of the main things I remember about you. May I offer some unsolicited advice?”

“Please.”

“Tell Nikki. I’ll do what I can to help, but Nikki is your best ally. Not only has she seen what’s happened to another victim, she knows you and likes you, and can help you better than anybody else when it comes to sewing.”

“That – that would be incredible! If she could help me…” I had just done the proverbial fall into a pile of sh— er, manure and came up smelling like roses.

“If you want, I can tell her what happened. I’m sure she’d be happy to come talk to you.”

“Alvin, I don’t know what to say… “

“Just remember this, since you are obviously hearing it for the first time. When I say acting is teamwork, I mean it. We need to support each other, Marsh. You’ve always come through for me in the past, and I’m going to do what is necessary to make sure you succeed in this one as well. OK?” He smiled at me for the first time since the rehearsal ended. “Talk to Nikki, take care of yourself, and I’ll see you on Sunday.”