Shooting Stars 01 Cinnamon (14 page)

"It is expensive," Mommy ageed. I looked up quickly. Daddy stopped eating. too. "I was going to ask you to release some of the trust fund that Grandfather Carlson and you established for her."
"She's not to touch that until she's twenty-one." Grandmother Beverly declared.
"I know, but that wasn't well thought out. Young people need college money and they need that before they're twenty-one."
"But this isn't a college. It's... it's... a foolish indulgence. I won't agree to waste a cent on such nonsense."
"It is a hefty tuition," Daddy said softly.
"Yes, but it includes everything. She lives at the school, is taken under wing by Madame Senetsky."
"Lives at the school." Grandmother Beverly practically spit. "It's just some old New York house. She's running this scam to meet her expenses because she was probably a great failure."
"That's a lie," I cried. "I read all about her. She was a very famous actress and people from
everywhere try to get into her school. I probably won't even have a chance."
"Lucky for you," Grandmother Beverly said.
Mommy looked like she was going to burst a blood vessel.
"Yes," I said calmly, softly, almost sweetly, "if I don't make it, it's probably lucky because I won't chase a foolish dream. You're so right. Grandmother Beverly."
Mommy's eyebrows went up and then she looked at me and I at her and we both burst into a fit of laughter that surprised Daddy and drove
Grandmother Beverly from the table mumbling to herself.

Daddy woke up with a terrible sinus headache on Saturday morning. He had said he was going with us and would take us all to a nice lunch in Greenwich Village. but Mommy told him to stay home and nurse his head cold instead,

"You'll only be uncomfortable and take Cinnamon's attention from her work." Mommy added.
He didn't put up a neat deal of resistance and, of course. Grandmother Beverly agreed.
"You should all stay home," she said.
"You don't want to come then?" Mommy asked her. "We could have a nice day in the city."
"Me? I hate the city." she replied, but she looked unsure of Mommy's motives, almost as if she wanted to believe we really hoped she would come. For the first time I wondered if Mommy was right about her: she was just a very lonely old woman we should pity.
We left and picked up Miss Hamilton. On the way in she talked about the auditions she had undergone during her acting days.
"Everyone is nervous. If you're not, you just don't care enough." she said.
"That's very true." Mommy agreed, "I imagine if you're too nonchalant, you give off an air of indifference and turn off the director."
"The trick, if there is a trick, is to not think of yourself in that theater on that small stage. Cinnamon. Get into the play. You know it so well. We read it in class earlier this year," she told Mammy.
"Yes, Cinnamon loved it, and actually went around reciting some of Kate's lines long before this."
"That's wonderful," Miss Hamilton said. "Then this is meant to be."
They got into a discussion about plays they had seen and by the time we arrived at the little theater, they were laughing and joking together like old friends. It made me happy and took away some of my nervousness. but I was still so terrified. I thought my legs would surely fold up beneath me the moment I stepped onto that stage.
When we entered the theater, we were surprised to see no other candidates. The room itself was dark and there was just a small spotlight turned on, dropping a circle of light upstage.
"Edmond told me this might be the case," Miss Hamilton whispered.
"She doesn't like other candidates sitting around. watching someone else audition."
"Someone else?" Mammy said. "There's no one here at all!"
"Not true," we heard a strong, deep female voice state.
At the rear of the auditorium, seated in the shadows so that we could barely make her out was who we imagined to be Madame Senetsky herself. Her pewter gray hair was pulled tightly up into a coiled chignon at the top of her head and clipped with a large, black comb.
"Madame Senetsky?" Miss Hamilton asked.
"Of course. Please have your candidate take the stage immediately. Promptness is essential in the theater, as it should be in life itself," she added.
"Why is she sitting in the dark?" Mommy wondered in a whisper.
"Go on. Cinnamon," Miss Hamilton said. She moved into an aisle, taking the second seat and leaving the aisle seat for Mommy.
"She could greet us at least." Mammy muttered but sat.
I started for the stage, my heart not pounding or thumping so much as it was tightening in my chest. It felt difficult to breathe. Why should I be so nervous? I wondered. There's only one person in this audience. I told myself. It's not like it was at the school play with nearly a thousand in attendance. One pair of eyes and one pair of ears are out there.
Mommy was right. Why didn't she have the decency to greet us and at least make me feel comfortable? What arrogance, I thought. I grew angrier with every step toward the stage.
Who does she think she is? She didn't win an Academy Award, did she? Most people won't remember who she is. It's impolite not to have greeted Mommy and Miss Hamilton. I felt like turning around and unleashing a tirade that would shake that chignon loose.
Instead.
I
stepped onto the stage, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and told myself to be Kate, to move forward into the play, to do such a good job.
I
would make that pompous woman feel terrible about her treatment of us.
"Well?" she cried.
If that was intended to throw me off, to unnerve me and see whether I would crack and run off the stage, it didn't work.
"Well, indeed," I whispered.
I stepped forward and began... "Fie, fie..."
I loved Kate, loved her fury and her defiance. but I also loved the way she was conquered, convinced and ultimately wooed to love Petruchio. In the end they were the most romantic, loving and considerate couple on earth.
I
dreamed I would have such a romance someday and such a marriage,
Miss Hamilton and Mommy clapped at the end of my speech. I stood there waiting
^,
to hear
something, but there was just silence after that.
Then the spotlight went out. "What the..."
There was just enough light from the aisle lamps for me to make my way back to them and for us to find our way to the exit doors. When we looked for Madame Senetsky, we saw no one.
"I don't understand," Mommy said. "Where is she? What are we supposed to do now?"
Miss Hamilton shook her head.
"I don't know any more than you do. I'm sorry."
"This is a ridiculous way to treat people. Who does she think she is?" Mommy cried. "Hello! Anyone here?"
We waited a moment and then Mammy said. "Let's get out of here." We stepped out in the bright sunlight, all of us squinting.
"You were wonderful. Cinnamon," Mommy said. "If that woman had any insight, she would see it."
"Yes. you did great," Miss Hamilton said, "I'll call Edmond."
"Don't bother to waste your time and money," Mommy said. "She must be some kind of a nut or sadist. Let's have some lunch." she added. "and enjoy the rest of the day."
We did enjoy it. In the restaurant Mommy did an imitation of Madame Senetsky sitting in the rear of the theater. She seized her hair and pulled it up so tightly, her eyelids stretched. Miss Hamilton and
I
laughed.
I
knew the both of them were trying to make me feel better and
I
appreciated their efforts and pretended not to be bothered.
But
I
had left that theater feeling so exposed, so embarrassed.
It
was as if a doctor had asked me to undress and then left me naked in the examination room.
On the way home. Mommy and
I
decided we wouldn't tell Grandmother Beverly anything.
If
we did, she would just gloat and chant how right she was about such schools and why it was a great waste of time and money. We told Daddy
I
performed well and we'd see. but
I
had no hope. He wasn't feeling much better and went to sleep early that evening.
The next day Miss Hamilton called to tell me she had phoned Edmond Senetsky and he had told her that was the way his mother conducted her auditions. She didn't have the patience for small talk and she didn't see the point of conversation before or after the audition. The audition was all that mattered to her. As to my chances, he repeated his admonition that there were dozens of candidates parading past her this week. She had seen six the day
I
was there. In
fact.
Early the following week. I completed my application to NYU and to some state schools the guidance counselor had recommended for me. I was busy studying for tests. Acting began to drift back toward that place reserved for fantasies and dreams in my mind. Every day I entered her class. Miss Hamilton's eves widened a bit in anticipation, but one look at my face told her I had no news, and soon she stopped anticipating any.
In the end Grandmother Beverly was probably right. I told myself. Just because she said everything in a hard, cold manner didn't mean it wasn't couched in truth. The thing is it was harder to accept reality when someone like Grandmother Beverly, unhappy with reality herself, presented it to you or forced it on you. What did she dream about now? I wondered. When she laid her head upon her pillow and closed her eyes, what helped her sleep? What were her secret wishes and hopes? Or was her head always full of warnings and skepticism, turmoil spiraling forever behind her closed eyelids?
"Pity her," Mommy kept telling me now. It was as though her bout with her own demon and trouble had made her a far more compassionate person, full of little mercies instead of little terrors. In my heart of hearts. I thought she might even pity Daddy if she knew what I knew.
She still suspected something. He was more distant with every passing day. I feared the coming of his confessions and what it would bring down on this fragile house and family.
And then the letter came, the letter that would force so much truth upon us we would nearly drown. Mommy was waiting for me in the Eying room with it when I came home from school. She called to me and she held it out. unopened.
"It's come," she said.
"Why didn't you open it?" I asked taking it from her.
"It's yours, honey, yours to open."
I tore the envelope and pulled out the papers.
The letter was so dripping with presumption and arrogance that I was sure it had either been written or directly dictated by Madame Senetsky herself.
Dear Ms Carlson:
You are to report to the Senetsky School of Performing Arts on July 7 at 10 A.M.
All tuition costs must be paid at that time.
Below is a list of required clothing and attached is a list of rules to follow while you are residing at the school. Any violation of any rule, no matter how small or insignificant it might appear, will result in expulsion and the forfeiture of tuition paid.
The contract is included and must be signed and returned by a parent or legal guardian within two
working days of receipt of this letter.
Yours truly,
Madame Senetsky I handed it to Mommy and she read it quickly, burst into laughter and then stopped abruptly and considered.
"I don't know if she's a madwoman or what. She treats us like nothing and then accepts you."
"What should I do?"
"Well, you'll go, of course. It's what you wanted, isn't it?" I shook my head.
"I don't know. I'm so confused."
"Of course you'll go, honey. This is a great opportunity."
I went right to the phone and called Miss Hamilton, She was so happy, she started to cry. I told Mommy and she cried, too. All of us were crying and it was supposed to be a happy, wonderful moment.
A few minutes later, we heard the front door open and stepped out to get Daddy.
"What's up?" he asked. Mormny handed him the letter.
Daddy's expression as he read the letter and immediately afterward told me he was not only not expecting it, he was hoping it would never come. His low-keyed. "This is nice." took Mommy by surprise. too.
"Nice?" she countered. "Nice is all you can say?"
He glanced at me and then forced a smile.
"Well. I mean it's nice to have options, to be wanted in many places."
"Options? This isn't the stock market. Taylor. It's your daughter's future," Mommy snapped.
He nodded. I never saw him look this uncomfortable, not even in the mental clinic.
"I know that. I'm referring to all the choices she can have. It takes some thinking. You want to be sure you make the right decisions for yourself. Cinnamon," he told me. "Let's review it all, consider everything. That's all I'm saying," he told Mommy.
She smirked and stepped back.
"You've been listening to your mother too much. Taylor."
"Well, she's not all wrong. I bet if you looked into it. Cinnamon, you'd discover that most successful actors nowadays started at something else first. It's a very difficult, challenging thing and you might be better off attending a regular state university or something and getting a well-rounded education. While you did that, there would be nothing to stop you from going out for the plays and building experiences. right? Then, if you were still inclined to pursue it, you could audition again' ," he said as if it was as simple as fastening a seat belt.
Mommy shook her head,
"Why are you saying these things now, Taylor? Why didn't you say them when Miss Hamilton told us about the performing arts school? Why didn't you say them before we took her to the audition? Why didn't you say them all these days that have gone by since?"
Daddy looked pained.
"From what you told me about it. I have to admit. I never expected this," he said holding up the letter.
Mommy plucked it from his fingers.
"You should have had more faith," she said and turned away from him. "I'm getting dinner together. Your mother hasn't come back from the dentist yet."
"Oh? I thought she had a four o'clock appointment. She should have been back by now."
"Maybe she's shopping for a new bedroom set for us," Mommy muttered and walked off.
I stared at Daddy. His shoulders sagged, there were heavier bags under his eyes and he looked tired and pale. I didn't want to feel sorry for him. but I couldn't help it. He glanced at me and saw something different in my eyes. It made him look twice.
"I'm sorry if I upset you with my suggestions, Cinnamon. And it's not something Grandmother put into my head. It's only meant to be sensible.'
He started up the stairs, lifting his legs as if each weighed as much as his whole body. I saw him take a deep breath at the top and then continue toward his bedroom. I turned to go to the kitchen to help Mommy with dinner, but just as I did.
I
heard a loud thump from above. For a moment. I just stood there. listening. Then Mammy came back into the hallway. "What was that?" she asked.
I shook my head and lunged for the stairway. When I reached the top. I saw my father on the floor, lying on his side. His right leg twitched as he struggled to get up.
"Daddy!" I screamed and ran to him. Seconds later. Mommy was at my side.
His eyelids fluttered.
"What is it. Taylor? What happened?" Mammy asked him.
"Got dizzy." he said. He tried to rise again and Grimaced, "Pain," he said touching his chest.
"Don't move. Taylor. Don't try to get up. I'm calling for help. Stay with him. Cinnamon," Mommy told me and hurried to the phone in their bedroom.
I lowered Daddy's head gently to my lap. His lips looked blue, but he kept his eves on me and forced a smile.
"It's all right," he said so low I could barely hear him."I'll be all right."
I could barely see him through the glaze of tears on my eyes. "Listen," he said. He beckoned me closer.
I leaned as far as I could.
"I'm sorry about all I said. I'm proud of you, proud they want you. It was the cost, but we'll find a way." he promised. He closed his eyes.
"The paramedics are on their way," Mommy cried coming from the bedroom. "How is he?"
"I don't know," I said. She knelt beside him.
"Taylor. I'm here. I'm with you." she said grabbing his hand and holding it with both of hers. She wiped strands of hair from his forehead. His eyelids fluttered and then opened.