Jamie drove his battered Ford Maverick into the parking lot at Steins Furniture Rental. He turned the car off and just sat. It took a force of will to shove the blanket off his lap and get out of the car. As he walked in the front door he glanced to the right, glass and chrome glittering in the showroom lights. He turned left into the sales office. Sam Abrams and Beverly Worthington sat at their desks. Sam was reading the Columbus Dispatch; Beverly was bent over paperwork.
“Hi, Sam. Good morning, Bev”
“’Morning, Jamie,” said Sam pleasantly. He was a middle-aged man with graying eyebrows and temples. “Have a good Thanksgiving?”
“Not bad. You?”
“Wonderful, really wonderful.”
“Hi, Jamie,” said Beverly, not looking up.
“Hey, Bev. It’s great to see you and all, but what the heck are you doing here?”
“Neil Diamond,” said Sam. Beverly looked up and smiled.
“Oh, yeah” said Jamie. Sam had once told Jamie that Beverly worked at Steins to finance her Neil Diamond habit.
Jamie sat down at his desk to fill out his time card; Tim Collins, another rental consultant, walked into the office. Twenty minutes later Blair Williams, the store manager, stepped into the room.
“Good morning, everyone,” he said. “Uh, Jamie, could I see you in, uh, my office, please?”
“Sure.”
Jamie followed him across the hall.
“Close the door, please. Uh, have a seat.” Blair went to his file cabinet and extracted a folder. He sat down, pulling at his shirt collar and scratching the eczema on the back of his left hand.
Blair handed him three stapled sheets of paper. “It’s annual review time,” he said.
“Oh.”
“You’ll see the rating scale on the first page: 1 is Unsatisfactory, 2 is Below Expectations, 3 is Meets Expectations, 4 is Exceeds Expectations, and 5 is Outstanding.”
Jamie flipped to the second and third pages. The rating categories included “Administration”, “Knowledge of Work”, “Communication”, “Teamwork”, “Customer Responsiveness”, and “Personal Appearance”. They were all marked with 1 or 2, except “Personal Appearance”, which was a 3. Jamie wondered how Blair had decided which categories were 1 and which were 2.
“I see. So, this is a pretty terrible review.”
“Yes.”
“So, you’re firing me.”
“Well…”
“I’ll save you the trouble. I quit. I’m giving you my two week notice today.”
“Okay.”
Jamie stood. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes. We don’t want you to make any more calls.” Jamie, Tim and Beverly each spent two afternoons a week calling on the apartment rental agents and property managers. “And, unless Sam, Tony and I are all busy, please don’t speak with the customers on the showroom floor.”
“Then what would you like me to do?”
“One last edition of the newsletter. If there are any collections, you can work those. I’ll let you know if there is anything else.”
Jamie shrugged and walked back to his desk. Both Sam and Tony were talking to customers. Beverly had finished her paperwork and was packing her briefcase.
“Well, I’m going,” she said to Jamie. “See you later.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“Why?”
“I just handed in my notice. Two weeks and I’ll be outa here.”
“Oh, Jamie, I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll miss you.” Beverly was an attractive woman in her early forties. Short frosted hair, modest but expertly applied make up, sharply dressed, very much cut from the same cloth as the rental agents she called on.
Jamie smiled. “It’s not the end of the world. Where’s the concert?’
“Chicago.”
“Well, have fun.”
“I will.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Bye.”
“Bye.” He replied, surprised at how sad he felt.
Forty-five minutes later Sam sat back down at his desk, and looked at Jamie for moment. “I hear you quit.”
“Yep.”
“Well, congratulations.”
“What?”
“This job just ain’t your thing, Jamie. It’s sucking the life out of you.”
“Just the latest in a long line.”
“You’re still young. You’ll find your niche.”
Jamie grunted. “Sam, you know people. What do you think I should do?”
“You remind me of a professor.”
Jamie gave Sam a wry smile. “That was my nickname in junior high.”
“No kidding. That should tell you something.”
Jamie shook his head. “There was a cartoon show in Cleveland called ‘The Professor James Show’. The host wore these absurdly huge black framed glasses, like this big.” He held his hands two feet apart. “They were teasing me about my glasses.”
“The professor angle came from somewhere.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Jamie shook his head. “Graduate school is expensive.”
“How about teaching?”
“I’m already certified to teach English. If that’d worked out, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. How about engineering?”
“Not that great at math.”
“Huh.”
“Feels like I’m not quite good enough at anything.”
“Give it time; you’ll figure it out.”
“Like you say, Sam, ‘From your lips to God’s ear.’”
****
Jamie stepped into the foyer of the old house. He looked up the beautiful staircase at the door to the upstairs apartment. He stood there for a few minutes, head down, hand on the on the darkly stained newel post. Then he trudged up the stairs, unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment.
“Hi, Jamie,” came a voice from the bedroom.
“Hi, Ellie.” He hung up his jacket and scarf on the coat tree.
His wife danced into living room. She was tiny. If she had taught junior high rather elementary school, she might have been mistaken for a student. Straight, reddish brown hair, bright blue eyes, very fair complexion, a lot of color in her cheeks.
“How was your day?”
“I quit.”
“You what?”
“They were going to fire me, so I quit. At least this way I get one more paycheck.”
She looked up at him. He wore the stone-face he used when he was angry, afraid, or very sad.
Afraid, she thought. She stepped in, put her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his chest.
Relieved, he hugged her back. “I thought you’d be mad.”
“It was a horrible job. I almost told you to quit a couple of times.”
“But the money…”
“We’ll figure it out. We always do. You’ll find another job.” Ellie led him to the sofa and they sat.
She put her hand on his chest, and said. “I wish there’s something we could do to help you feel better.”
“There might be.”
“Really?”
He took a newspaper clipping from the breast pocket of his sports coat.
________________________________________________________________________
The Cupola Players proudly announce auditions for their production of William Shakespeare’s Macbeth
Auditions will be held on January 3 at 7:00 PM in Mees Hall at Capital University, lecture room 217.
Rehearsals will commence on January 8 with performances on February 22, 23, 24, 25 and March 1, 2, 3, 4.
Please prepare a short cutting from Macbeth to present at the audition.
_________________________________________________________________________
“I’d like to try out.”
“Wow, Jamie, that’s cool.”
“So, it’s okay?”
“Sure, it’s okay.”
He hugged her. She smiled and whispered in his ear, “Got any kisses to go with that hug?”
****
Jamie walked down a hallway full of darkened classrooms. He turned a corner and saw light coming from one open door. He peered into the large lecture hall. Even though he was 20 minutes early, there were already more than a dozen people in the room.
“Here for the auditions?” asked a young woman seated at desk inside the door. He nodded. She handed him a card and a pencil. “Bring it back when you’re done.”
He found a seat in the middle section a few rows up, and began to fill out the audition card – name, address, telephone number, productions, roles and theater groups. In college, he’d had a walk-on part in Twelfth Night and more substantial roles in the student-directed one acts The Valiant and The Typists. He’d been in several community theater productions - chorus parts in the musicals Brigadoon, Paint Your Wagon and Carousel, and character parts in comedies like George Washington Slept Here, My Three Angels, and The Curious Savage.
He completed the card and took it to the girl at the door. Walking back to his seat, he saw that the lecture hall was filling up; there was a steady stream of actors coming through the door. Clearly, some in the throng knew each other well, exchanging smiles, greetings, hugs, and handshakes.
Shit, Jamie thought. What the hell am I doing here?
His preparation for the audition had gone poorly. When he had looked through the play for a meaningful speech from one of the supporting roles, he found MacDuff’s tortured response to the murder of his wife and children.
But he just couldn’t seem to get the feel of it. His imagination failed him when he tried to muster the desolation of a man who has lost his family, home, beloved friends and trusted retainers. He could not summon the bloodlust for Macbeth. He knew the words but not the emotion.
At seven o’clock a man walked to the door, shooed everybody from the hallway into the room, and made sure they all had audition cards. Once they were seated, he stepped to the center of the lecture hall floor. He was barrel chested and a little less than medium height. He had thin, kinky, dark blonde hair and a scraggly beard. He was wearing a quilted green vest over a tie-dyed t-shirt and jeans.
“Good evening, everybody,” he said. “My name is Daniel Kinney. I am the manager of The Cupola Players, and the director of our production of Macbeth. This is a wonderful turnout, and I thank you all for coming out.
“I’d like to tell you a little bit about the plan for the production. Perhaps you are aware of the recent trend to stage Shakespeare plays in unconventional settings. For example, Romeo and Juliet has been set in Appalachia using a Hatfield and McCoy theme; Henry V has been set in World War I, and so on.
“We are moving Macbeth from feudal Scotland to feudal Japan. We believe the Samurai provide a close analogy to the lairds and warriors of Scotland. The change of scene will give us a lot of very interesting things to play with. We hope the costuming and makeup will help transport the audience to Asia. We will study Bushido, the Samurai code. We have already arranged for martial arts experts to give us some weapons training and to help choreograph the battle scenes.
“We will also study Kabuki, the classical, stylized theater of Japan. The word Kabuki translates to ‘sing-dance-skill’. Even though Kabuki features music and dance, the themes were mostly serious and dramatic. Kabuki dates from around 1600, the time when Shakespeare was writing and producing his plays at the Globe.
“We will build a Kabuki stage on which we will perform the play. The Kabuki stage is unique in world theater. The main stage is wide but not very deep. There is a wide runway, called the Hanamichi, that projects out into the audience. Some of the most dramatic scenes of the play will be blocked on the Hanamichi. The Hanamichi and two more narrow runways form a pit in the middle of the stage. Part of the audience will sit in the pit, and the action of the play will take place all around them.
“We have a lot of people to audition tonight, so, we need to keep this moving. When your name is called, come down and perform your selection. After you’re done, most of you will be free to go. I may ask a few to hang around so that I can see groups of people standing together. However, don’t think you’re out because I let you go. If you don’t hear from me by Friday evening, you can assume you haven’t made the call back list. Call backs will be Sunday, rehearsals start Monday. Any questions?”
Then followed two tedious, anxious hours. Jamie had never understood how a director could cast a play by watching auditions. Auditioning requires a different set of skills from acting. Even so, there were a few of the auditions that he really liked.
One came from a pale young man with dark, straight hair and patchy facial hair. He performed Lady Macbeth’s “Out, damn spot!”. He captured its eerie, dreamlike madness and guilt. What a great choice, thought Jamie, knowing he would never have the courage to perform a woman’s role in an audition.
Then a statuesque black woman with long, kinky hair performed “Double, double toil and trouble” in a Jamaican accent. She laughed between stanzas with spotless, innocent joy.
The director asked them both to stay to the end.
Eventually the director called his name. “Jamie Thompson”.
Feeling a little shaky, Jamie walked down to the lecture room floor. He turned to the crowd and mumbled, “This cutting comes from Act 4, Scene 3. The character is MacDuff. Macbeth has murdered his family.” He paused to gather himself and then started.
All my pretty ones?
Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
And he blocked on his next line. “Um,” he said, “Um, let me start again.” The director jumped out his seat, walked up to Jamie and put a hand on his shoulder. In a voice pitched for Jamie’s ear he said, “Do me a favor?”
Jamie nodded.
“Try the speech as The Fonz.” Arthur Fonzerelli was a character in a popular sitcom, a diminutive, motorcycle-riding Casanova.
“Can I have a minute?’
“Take your time.”
Jamie turned his back and tried to compose himself. Then he reached into his back pocket and took out his comb. Looking into an imaginary mirror, he started to put the comb to his dark auburn hair, then stopped, arms extended, admiring perfection.
“Heeeeeey.” He growled, and turned to the audience, a cocky, leering grin on his face.
Heeeeeey, All my pretty ones? (embracing an imaginary girl on each side)
Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? (delighted at the prospect)
What, all my pretty chickens (he kissed each girl on the cheek) and their dam (a wink)
At one fell swoop? (a second, bigger wink)
I shall do so,
But I must also feel it as a man (a subtle pelvic thrust)
I cannot but remember such things
That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? (lascivious eye brows raised)
Sinful Macduff, (pridefully)
They were all struck for thee! (pantomiming a spanking) Naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine.
There were a few surprised giggles but many more confused smiles. Jamie looked at the director. “Thank you for that, Jamie,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “You’re free to leave.”
He returned to his seat, got his coat, and slipped out the door feeling like a fool.
****
When Jamie got home his wife was asleep. He sat up for a while; eventually he went to bed, but sleep would not come. When her alarm sounded in the morning, he pretended to be asleep. He got up when he was sure she was gone.
It was a cold, dark, overcast January morning. The day never seemed to start, never brightened past twilight. He tried to make the bed. He tried to do the dishes. He tried to read. He tried to watch TV. He tried to make breakfast. He put on his hat and coat to go for a walk, but when he opened the door it was too cold. He tried to make lunch. He considered going to shoot baskets. He didn’t get out of his chair.
When Ellie got home from her job at 4:30, it had already been dark for an hour. She came in the door smiling, loving the cold weather and long nights. He sat in the living room, one table lamp casting a dim circle.
She flipped on the ceiling light and said, “Hey, darlin’. How was the audition?”
“Terrible.”
“Oh, no. What happened?”
“I blocked on a line and had to start over.”
“Oh”
“Besides, there must have been at least eighty or hundred people there. No way I’m getting a part.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And it’s going to be so cool, too. They’re getting martial arts experts to help with the fight scenes and everything.”
She glanced at the darkened kitchen. “What have you been doing all day?”
“Nothing.”
“I guess you’re not making dinner.”
“No, sorry. Tomorrow for sure.”
“Let’s get a pizza,” she said brightly.
“Ok.”
“If I call, will you pick it up?”
“Sure.”
He got up out of the chair and hugged her. “Thanks,” he said.
“For what?”
“Just coming home, I guess.”
When he got back with the pizza, she had set their small wooden kitchen table with place mats, flatware and single candle. They ate the pizza while she chattered about her day; he listened and smiled a little. She finally coaxed him into telling her more about the audition.
After dinner, they cleaned up the kitchen together. She laughed and threw suds at him, he grinned. Later they watched Mork and Mindy, and Jamie fell asleep on the sofa. The telephone jangled him awake. Ellie went to the phone in the kitchen.
“It’s for you,” she called.
“Who is it?” She shrugged. He took the phone. “Hello?”
“Jamie? This is Daniel Kinney.” Jamie was shocked. “The director of Macbeth.”
“Yes, I know. I just wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Really? I thought your Fonz was pretty good.”
“Well, thanks. So, I guess I made callbacks?”
“You can come to callbacks if you want, but, actually, I’ve already cast you.”
“You what?”
“It’s a rather small part. So, with it being such a long drive from Lancaster and all, I’ll understand I if you turn it down. But I’d really like to have you in the cast.”
“What’s the part?”
“The Porter. Sometimes called the drunken Porter.”
“Yes, I know it. Something about liquor spurring desire, but taking away from performance.”
“Yes, that’s the gist. While it’s small, it’s very important; it’s the only comic relief in the play. If you need a day to think about it…”
“No, no, just hold on.” He put his hand over the receiver. “It’s the director of Macbeth,” he said to Ellie. “He’s offering me a part. It’s kind of small but meaty.”
She grinned and clapped her hands. “Oh, Jamie, I’m so glad.”
“So, you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
Speaking into the phone, he said “Okay, I’m in.”
****
The second week of rehearsals, the cast sat in a circle on the floor of a large, empty classroom. Dylan Swenson was performing Macbeth’s “sound and fury” speech while trying to imitate a bear. Jamie shook his head, Just one more ridiculous, pointless exercise.
When Daniel had addressed the cast at the first rehearsal, he had said, “As I am sure you all know, one of the primary rehearsal techniques for the Cupola Players is improvisation.” Perhaps everybody else in the room had known, but Jamie certainly had not.
As an undergrad, he had studied Stanislavski’s book An Actor Prepares, and that approach made sense to him. Jamie was just not comfortable with seat-of-the-pants situations; that first week the cast warmed up with two or three improv “games”.
Their first game had been “Assassin”. Each cast member secretly picked out two others: one as his body guard, the other his assassin. The actor’s task was to keep the body guard between himself and his assassin. When the game started, there was chaos. People ran in circles, stopped, took a few steps, stopped. One actor ran into a fellow cast member and knocked her down. People were laughing and crying out “whoops” and “look out.” Sure, most of the cast found it amusing, but what was the point? There is only one assassin in the play, thought Jamie.
Another game was “Alphabet”. The point of this exercise was to tell a story using only the ABCs. Daniel called on Liz West, one of the witches; she was slender, of medium height, with light hair and big brown eyes. She told a joke, and when she said “Z”, everybody laughed.
Wow, thought Jamie. Then, Please, don’t call on me.
“Jamie,” said Daniel.
He stood and thought for a moment, then said, “A B C D,” his demeanor grumpy. He scuffed his shoe on the floor. “E F G H I……” He stopped having lost his place. Shit, shit, shit.
“What happened there?” asked Daniel.
“Well, sometimes I have trouble with the alphabet.”
“Nonsense, everybody knows the alphabet. What were you trying to do?”
“I was a guy who had just lost his job.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I don’t think you have quite enough there. Give it some more thought and we’ll come back to you.”
Head down, he went back to his spot.
Jamie was having some fun, though not in rehearsal. He had walked into the classroom fifteen minutes early for the third rehearsal. Ron Blazer, who played King Duncan, was juggling three balls.
Jamie’s eyes lit up. “You juggle!”
“Yes,” said the tall, bearded man.
“Would you teach me?”
“Yes. Are you right handed or left handed?”
“Sort of ambidextrous, but I do most things with my right hand.”
“Okay. We are going start with two balls.” He held one in each hand. “Put your right elbow at your side and extend your forearm. Yes, that’s it. Now, palm up.” Ron placed the ball from his left hand into Jamie’s right hand. Jamie was surprised at how heavy it was.
“Now,” Ron continued, “I am going toss this ball”, holding up the ball in his right hand, “to your right hand.” He demonstrated by moving the second ball through the air with his hand. “Keep the ball in your right hand as long as possible, and then, just as the second ball arrives, drop the ball in your hand and catch the ball in the air.” Ron took the first ball out of Jamie’s, dropped it to the floor, and put the second ball in its place. “Got it?”
“Yes.”
Ron tossed the ball; Jamie easily dropped one ball and caught the other. With each toss, Ron urged him to wait longer to drop the ball.
“You want as little time as possible between the release and the catch,” he explained
After about ten tosses, Ron was satisfied that Jamie had mastered the first step. “Now, rather than drop the ball, toss it to me.”
The lesson proceeded in a series of steps. At each step, Ron added a new juggling element. By the time Daniel was ready to start rehearsal, Jamie was close to juggling two balls with one hand.
He practiced at home and during rehearsal breaks. It took him two more days to master the Three Ball Cascade. He was currently working on the Three Ball Shower. Any number of balls can be juggled using the shower pattern, and Jamie was hoping to get four balls in the air soon.
Daniel brought Jamie’s attention back to the group. “Thanks, Dylan,” he said. “Why did you choose a bear?”
“It’s the only large carnivore in Japan; it’s related to the grizzly. There was an incident in the early 1900s where one of these bears killed seven people. That bear was almost nine feet tall.”
“Wow, really. I had no idea. Keep at it.” He looked around the circle. “Okay, who’s next? Ah, Jamie, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Damn!
Jamie had not been able to think of any funny animals that could also be a porter. Cats, otters, penguins? These were not beasts of burden. So, he tried to think of an animal that moved like a drunk, and drew a blank there, too.
Jamie stood and began is his speech.
Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there, i' th' name of
Beelzebub? Here’s a farmer that hanged himself on
the expectation of plenty.
As he trotted around the circle, bent at the waist, he worked his arms like legs; he stumbled and staggered. The faces peering up at him seemed confused. He finished his speech.
Pursing his lips, Daniel said, “Umm, yeah, what animal was that?”
“A burro on tequila.” A couple of chuckles.
“How about sake?”
“Okay, a burro on sake.”
“I think it needs some work, but it’s a start.”
Jamie returned to his spot, rolling his eyes.
“Okay, the three witches would like to perform their animals together. Ladies?”
Mary Johnson, the black woman from auditions, along with Liz West, and a third woman, Sylvia Chase, stood and draped lengths of cloth over their extended arms. They stepped out into the performance space and struck an intertwined pose. Then Mary nodded and, together, they began to flap their arms and tiptoe around the floor in a swirling pattern, seeming to bounce and dart above the floor.
Liz, the first witch, “landed”, crouched, folded her arms and cloth around her, and spoke her line.
Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed.
She returned to flight as Mary “landed”.
Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whined.
Mary took wing as Sylvia “landed”.
Harpier cries, “'Tis time, ’tis time.”
The first witch alighted and spoke a longer incantation. Then Mary and Sylvia joined her for the chorus.
Double, double toil and trouble,
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
The trio repeated the pattern with witches two and three adding to the spell. They cast the final chorus from their original place and poses.
Magic, thought Jamie. The witches broke their poses, and the cast applauded and cheered. Sylvia blushed, Liz curtsied, Mary grinned.
“Well, that was great. For the record, what animal did you choose?” asked Daniel.
“Butterflies, obviously,” said Dylan Swenson.
“Yes!” exclaimed Mary Johnson. “Japanese ladies in their kimonos always remind me of butterflies.”
“Really, really wonderful!” said Daniel. “Let’s see what three men can do with that. Macbeth, McDuff and the Porter.”
I don’t want to be a damn butterfly.
Nevertheless, Jamie got up off the floor and walked around, flapping his arms trying to be a butterfly. He did not go up on his toes as the witches had done, nor did he recite his lines, but neither did the other actors. He felt silly and exposed.
Then something broke open in Jamie’s heart. He dropped to the floor like a wet bag of cement and curled up, face down.
The cast burst into laughter.
Jamie struggled to keep his composure, to remain a butterfly. Macbeth flapped over to check on him and hovered there. More laughter. Jamie then turned over onto his back and extended his arms and legs, a cross. He looked up at Macbeth; Jamie saw a look of concern on his face. Jamie’s ribs quivered with suppressed laughter.
“Alright,” said Daniel. “That’s good, that’s surprisingly good.”
The cast laughed and clapped. Jamie crawled back to his spot, now free to laugh. Once back in his spot, he wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve. Jamie acknowledged his castmates with a small bow from the waist.
“What happened there?” asked Daniel.
“Oh, oh,” said Mary Johnson. “You circled into a flame.”
“Well, no, but close.” Jamie replied. “I was in a meadow, full of grass and flowers. Just flying around, you know, and this butterfly collector came along and netted me.”
Claps and laughs of recognition.
“And the bit at the end?” asked Daniel. Jamie looked at him with pursed lips and knit brows. “When you turned on your back.”
“Oh, yeah. The collector took me home and pinned me out on a display board.”
“Yes, of course!” Daniel looked around at the group and then at his watch. “I see that we have just a little over ten minutes left. I think we’ll call it a night. Good work everybody.”
The cast got to their feet and began to gather up their things. One of his neighbors patted Jamie on the shoulder and smiled. Mary Johnson dashed over and gave him a sisterly hug.
“You were a great butterfly!” she said.
“Thanks.” Jamie was embarrassed but pleased.
The cast began to file out of the room. Jamie heard his name called, and he looked up to see Daniel waving him over.
Daniel asked him, “How are you doing?”
“Pretty well.”
“Good, good. I was afraid we might lose you, that you might quit.”
Jamie nodded. “I thought about it, but it was never really an option.”
Daniel nodded. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Sure.” Jamie paused. “I was wondering if we could work juggling into the show?”
“What do you mean?”
“As court entertainment, maybe.”
“Maybe,” Daniel conceded. “Why don’t you look for a spot in the script?”
“Okay, sure. See you tomorrow”
Daniel nodded and Jamie followed his castmates out the door.
It was a sharp, clear night; he looked up, spotting Orion and The Big Dipper. The tree line to the north blocked his view of Polaris. That’s alright, he thought, exhaling a long frosty breath. He got into his car, started the engine, and pulled the blanket onto his lap, not minding the prospect of the long, cold ride home.