In the Shadow of Shakespeare (12 page)

 “Renita,
that’s the
point
of acting.  You are no longer you.  You are
the character.  Let me show you the difference…Sonia, could you come down
and read the part of Emilia?”

Sonia
looked up from the paper, gave it a shake, then carefully set it down. 
She maintained her disinterested expression and came and stood beside them on
the stage.

 “Now
Emilia,” Alice said, “Is as you know, Desdomona’s servant.  But she is
usually portrayed as slightly older and wiser than Desdemona.  Why? 
Because I think that is inherent in the script; in the language.  You will
understand Desdemona’s character better, Renita, if you understand the
difference between these two women.  In a way she is like Othello – rather
naïve, while Emilia tends to be more headstrong.”

Renita
stood, hands on hips, smacking her gum at Sonia.

 “Please
Renita, get rid of your gum.  They did not chew gum in Elizabethan
England.  Desdemona, take it from line fifty nine –
these men, these
men!

She
went and sat next to Derrin, listening.  Made them go through it
again.  Then again.  They went through it until she saw a change in
Renita; saw that she was defining Desdemona out of Desdemona, not Renita. 

 “Good! 
Good!  Bravo you two – Bravo!”  Alice and Derrin applauded . 
Sonia bowed, then ran off the stage.  Renita stood fixed in the center of
the stage, her eyes shining.  She looked like a butterfly emerging from a
chrysalis.

 “I
remember when Sonia used to look like that.”  Derrin said.

 “Me
too.”

Alice
wasn’t altogether surprised when after everyone had left Derrin followed her
into her office.  Red curtains with gold lions draped the window. 
She had tied them back with gold cord.  There was a slight breeze outside
ruffling the papers on her desk.  She put the paperweight down on
them.  The temperature was rising.  They were expecting a storm later
in the day.

 “We
should get out of here before it rains.”  Alice said.

Derrin
nodded.  “That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you.”

 “Okay.” 
Alice sat back.

 “It’s
just not the same anymore,” he ran his hands through his hair, “Christ, this is
hard Alice.”

 “Just
tell me what’s on your mind
Derrin.”          “Well, you see
how Sonia has been acting – so buddy, buddy with Brad, and she just doesn’t
care about the acting anymore.  You know, she had those big dreams about
going to Broadway.  Now she can’t wait to high tail it out of here after
we practice.”

 “Yes,
I’m aware of that.”

 “I’m
not saying she doesn’t put her time in, because she does.  But she knows
exactly how much time she needs to put in – no more, no less, and that’s what
she does.  The magic is gone for her.  It’s like a job.”

Alice
nodded.

Derrin
swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple moved up and down.  He took a deep
breath.  She put his hand over his.  “It’s okay Derrin, really.”

 “The
thing is….they are so…mean…I mean, they are unforgiving of my sexuality. 
They make little jibes here and there.  Sonia never used to be like
that.  Not before
Brad.
”  He broke down, sobbing.  Alice,
realizing there were no tissues around, went into the bathroom and grabbed a
handful of toilet paper.

 “Anyway,
I want to quit.  I want out of here!”  He dabbed at his eyes and blew
his nose. 

She
sat in her chair again.  “Don’t let them run you out of here Derrin.”

 “I
can’t stand it!  They’ve turned everyone against me.  I thought the
theatre was a safe haven for gay people.  Yeah, right.  Ha.
Ha.”  He blew his nose again.

 “They
haven’t turned everyone against you.  Am I against you?” 

 “You’re
the only one.”

 “No,
that’s not true.  What about Jim Schelling?  He thinks you’re a
superb actor, and an admirable person.”

 “Oh
cut it out with all the grandiose adjectives Alice.” 

 “It’s
true.”

 “I
know they want to get rid of me.” 

 “I’m
the only one who can get rid of you.  And that’s not going to
happen.  No anti-gay conspiracy here.  But you know Derrin, you will
have to be dealing with this kind of thing for the rest of your life. 
It’s not easy.  Once you come out of the closet…well you’re not hidden any
more.  Kind of a sitting duck for people’s sexual insecurities and general
lack of understanding and open mindedness.”

He
sighed.  “Yeah, I know.  All they care about is the money.”

Alice
frowned, cocked her head.  “The money?  Who?  I don’t get your
drift Derrin.”

 “Well,
once this place started pulling in the bucks…that’s all they were concerned
about.”

 “By
they…do you mean the board?”

He
nodded.

She
looked out the window.  A robin flew into a tree with a worm in its beak –
gulped it down. 

“Looking
for easy pickings I suppose.”

She
thought it strange there were so many robins around.  She did enjoy their
song. 

“I’m
sorry, what did you say Alice?  Easy pickings?” 

“Oh…I
guess I was thinking out loud.”

There
was the sound of thunder in the distance.  The sky turned a murky grey,
threaded with a venomous yellow. 

“Looks
like a doozy.”  Alice said.

“Yeah. 
I’m out of here.  Thanks for the pep talk boss.”  Derrin stood.

“Just
let me know what you’re thinking.  Okay?”

“Sure. 
See ya.”

A
boom of thunder echoed throughout the sky.  Alice closed the window as the
wind whipped rain drops over the desk.  She noticed the silk faux curtains
were fading, turning a shade of dark pink where the sun had been baking
them.  Alice fingered them between her fingers, thought of what Derrin had
said.  She wondered how much he really did know  but didn’t want to
tell her. 

She
watched the rain, and thought she would wait for it to pass before she ventured
outside to her car.  Lately she had been thinking of Kit when it had rained. 

She
thumbed through a pile of bills on her desk. The phone rang.  She picked
it up and explained to the person on the other end that this was the Lion
Theatre, not the Lion Strip Club.  The person on the other end seemed to
think that they were one and the same,
a theatre is a theatre. 
Disgusted,
Alice hung up the phone.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a number
written on a piece of paper tucked under the phone.  She picked it up and
examined it.  Not recognizing the handwriting she frowned.  Turning
the scrap of paper over she noticed the initials D.J. 
Derrin James?
 
How would he have gotten into my office? 
Alice made a mental note
to ask him about it when she saw him again. 

No,
no, I want to know now.
  She dialed the number.

“American
Bank and Trust.” 

American
Bank and Trust?

“Sorry,
wrong number.”  She hung up the phone.   Looking out the window
she noticed the rain had stopped.  She carefully closed the blinds and the
curtains.  She crumpled the paper, and her hand hovered over the waste
basket.  Instead, she shoved the scrap in her pocket.

 ***

The
address that Jeannie had written down for her lay in the console of her
car.  She picked it up.  It looked like it was by the school. 
Backing out of the parking lot she turned down Lake Lansing, towards the west
end of town. 

The
road was the link between two different worlds.  If you lived on the west
end you were most likely Mexican, and if you lived on the east end you were
most likely white.  Somewhere in the middle the houses became
smaller.  Yards started to contain Plastic Virgin Marys.  These were
placed in grottos with masses of fake roses or geraniums in bright blue
pots.  Children littered the unkempt yards.  Some toddled in diapers
with bare feet.  Young girls sat on the porches watching them.  Alice
became lost looking for the address that Jeannie had written down for
her.  She stopped by a yard containing small children chasing a
kitten.  A young girl sat on the porch steps with an older girl sitting
behind her.

“Do
you know where Maria Serna lives?” 

They
looked at each other, then at her.  The young girl giggled.  She had
on blue eye shadow and had a red ribbon tied at the end of her long braid.

“
No
lo se.”
  The young girl said.

“Oh,” 
The older girl appeared lost in thought.  “You mean Mimi?” 

Alice
didn’t know.  She nodded her head yes.

“She
lives on Baker.  Go up three streets, go left.  You’ll see it.” 

The
girls looked away, dismissing her. 

Alice
turned the way the girls had told her and went down the street.  There was
a corner grocer advertising Budweiser and chorizo but no Mimi.  She pulled
into the store parking lot and parked the car.  Running her hands through
her hair she decided what to do.  Robert Gomez came out of the store.

“Yo,
it’s Ms. Petrovka.”  Smiling, he walked over to her car.  “What you
doin’ here?”  He placed his arms in the window, leaning in.

“Oh,
I…am getting chorizo.  Only place I know that carries it.”

Roberto
nodded.  “You white people eat that boring food.”

Alice
nodded. “What are you doing here Roberto?” 

For
some reason Roberto didn’t think this was a dumb question.  “Getting some
tortillas for my mom.”  He held the bag up as evidence.  “We ran out
when Jimmy and Shay came over for dinner.”

“Oh. 
Well, I better get going.”  Alice started the car. 

“Okay
Ms P.  See ya at school.” 

Alice
pulled out, defeated.  She twisted and turned back to Lake Lansing and
drove east.

Chapter 16

Christopher
sat at a long wooden table.  It was late and he knew he should be getting
back to his room, but he was engrossed in the translation of the
The Amores.
 
He finally had the parchment and quills to do what he wanted.  In the
excitement and intensity of translating works from the Latin he often stayed up
way past his fellow students.  The candle sputtered and he brought it
closer to the book to see the printed words.  It was slow and tedious
work. 

The
hall was drafty and the books were chained to the tables.  Students would
often try to take the books back to their rooms so they could read in more
comfortable quarters.  Christopher notices that the chain on the
The
Amores
had gauge marks in it.  His fellow students had tried
unsuccessfully to remove the book from the table.  It was no surprise, the
book was full of erotic poetry, easily the most popular volume at the table.

But
although the poetry engrossed him, lately his thoughts had been turning towards
the plays of Seneca and Plautus, the Roman playwrights of antiquity.  When
he read the plays, he could vividly envision the actors, the movement, and the
rising and falling of their voices. 

Earlier
in the year the headmaster had caught him in the midst of his imagining and he
had become stone silent.  When Christopher broke from his fantasy he found
that everyone was staring at him.  They then began to laugh.  The
headmaster had banished him to his room with no dinner and with extra morning
prayer.

The
other day the students were expected to take part in a performance of one of
the English mystery plays,
Everyman.
  Christopher found himself
engrossed in the direction and the performance.  He was praised for his
efforts, and called upon to direct the next school performance of
The Second
Shepherds’ Play.

After
Everyman
Christopher had shut himself in his room during free time. 
He was gripped by a vision of something he wanted to write.  He had an
idea of a play of a hero that was bold and full of himself.  But
how?  He vaguely had an idea of something like Seneca or Plautus, where
the actors would speak normally, in blank verse, prose style.  Of course,
there would be poetry also, he thought.  It was beautiful, and would add
romance and allure to the stage.  But the blank verse – it would be like
bold brush strokes on the stage.  Yes, yes, that’s it, he thought. 
Too many plays were all in the rhyme of verse.  It became tedious and
boring and too hard to follow.  The audience often would lose interest
half way into the play.  Mine, he thought, will be different; it will be
exciting.

He
thought of his play and the main character.  This hero would rise to great
heights of glory and fame.  Christopher fanned himself with the quill,
thinking, then he brought it to his face, caressing his cheek.  He would
be a great lover also, and his wife would love him intensely, passionately…

“How
now, Kit?”

Christopher
jumped in his seat and quickly turned his head. “Ah!  Nick, what say you,
snekin’ up on me like that?”