Pacific Avenue (14 page)

ASWAPATI: Oh, goddess, thank
you! My daughter shall be named Savitri, after you!

Richard’s voice was a soft
monotone, stumbling on the foreign name. It was obvious he was reading the
lines. Martin made another note in his script as the curtain closed.

NARRATOR: Savitri grew to be a
mirror for the beauty and wisdom of the goddess.

The curtain opened again on what I knew would be a
garden scene. I wondered how I was going to design scenery to change from
indoors to outdoors that quickly. I made another note in my script.

A young woman puppet
entered from stage right, and Aswapati again from the left.

ASWAPATI: Daughter, you are
of age to marry.

SAVITRI: But, Father, no man
has asked for my hand.

ASWAPATI: They do not dare.
They turn away from your radiance. Still, you must have a husband.

SAVITRI: How shall we find
him?

ASWAPATI: You must go out into
the world, Savitri. You must find the man who is worthy of you.

Aswapati stood stiffly at attention, facing the
audience. Richard’s voice had been louder as he delivered the last line of the
scene, but he still spoke in a self-conscious monotone.

Martin broke in before Richard and Thu began the next
scene. “Richard, bring Aswapati downstage and make him look more troubled. This
isn’t just heroics.”

“Heroics?” Richard’s head appeared around one side of
the stage, his face wrinkled in confusion. “I didn’t know he was being heroic
at all.”

Thu peered around the other side. They looked like
marionettes themselves—the Indian puppets were controlled partly with strings from
metal bands around the puppeteers’ heads.

Martin looked up from his script. “Heroism isn’t conflict,”
he said. “It’s going to meet your fate.”

“Without fear,” Richard put in.

“Good God, no!
With
fear. But going anyway,” said Martin.

Richard considered that a moment. “How do I make a
marionette look troubled?” he asked.

“Hold the gestures close to the body at first. A person
who’s sad or pressured pulls in. Then when he sends her to find a husband, show
the thought in an outward movement of his arm as you turn the head. Make it
slow at first and then more confident,” said Martin.

“If the body and head are right,” Thu added, “the audience
will imagine the facial expressions.” Richard bobbed back behind the curtains.

The next scene showed
Savitri and her retinue. Several attendants, strung as a group, followed her.

SAVITRI: I have traveled so
far, and yet I have found no suitable husband. I will stop and rest at this
hermitage.

SAVITRI:
(aside)
Perhaps the teacher here will guide me in my quest.

TEACHER: Welcome!

SAVITRI:
(bows her head in
reverence)
I thank you.
(gesturing
offstage)
Teacher, who are these men
approaching?

TEACHER: That is Prince
Satyavan and his father, a king with no kingdom, for he was conquered and blinded.
Satyavan is well-named “Son of Truth”—he is a man of great virtue.

“Take a break,” called Martin. After a moment, Richard
and Thu emerged from backstage. Thu eased into the kitchen, and I heard the
kettle scrape onto the stove. Richard slumped on the couch.

“You can’t expect to get everything at once,” said
Martin. “Actually, you’re doing well with the puppets. I can tell you’re
practicing a lot.”

Richard nodded. It was true—he’d worked hard. Every
couple of days, he traded the puppets he’d taken home for new ones of a
different type. He’d work on his own for a while, then with me, then go back to
Thu or Martin with questions. I loved the puppets, but Richard went far beyond
that. Even now, taking a break, he was unconscious of me, immersed in the
Savitri
script. His expression was like Martin’s, intense
and absorbed. He’d forgotten me.

I rubbed my eyes so hard I saw blue fireworks.

Thu brought in a tray with a teapot and steaming cups
of tea, a welcome distraction. She passed the cups around.

Martin turned to Richard. “Why don’t you concentrate on
the marionettes for a while, instead of trying to get all the different puppets
at once?”

“Okay.”

“When you practice, do you do the lines or only the motions?”

“Just the motions.”

“So, you’re not practicing the lines at all.”

“Well, I would feel foolish, talking to myself.”

“Better to feel foolish when you’re practicing than to
sound foolish when we’re performing.”

I was afraid Martin’s candor would hurt Richard’s feelings.
But Richard smiled. “I’ll need a script, then,” was all he said.

“Don’t stick to the script too tightly, though, or
you’ll sound theatrical.” Martin grabbed the nearest puppet, which was a glove
puppet depicting a dog. “Here, let me show you.”

“I am so
angry
!”
the dog said, as Martin worked its head and front paws. “My people
shut
me out of the house.
I can’t get
in
! I have a right to lie in my own bed, not out here
in the mud! It’s ‘pretty puppy’ this and ‘baby’ that, but what happens when I’m
inconvenient? ‘Out you go, good dog.’ Who in
hell
do they think they are?” His voice vibrated with
fury.

Once again, I had the illusion that the puppet’s face
moved, and every gesture was completely canine. I thought of every dog I’d ever
seen, and I felt an echo of all the anger I’d ever felt. Martin stripped the
dog off his hand and laid it back on the table.

“Take any one of the puppets and go through the catalog
of emotions with it,” he said. “There are only a few. The basic ones are fear,
anger, shame, love, and joy. Get those down, and then you can go on to
variations and subtleties. You feel a lot less foolish after you’ve done it a
few times. In fact, awkwardness is probably nine-tenths of what’s wrong to
begin with. Do the verbal practice with one that’s easy to move, so you’re not trying
to get too much down at once.” Martin smiled at Richard to soften his
criticism.

Richard sipped his tea. Steam from the cup curled
around his face like dragon breath. He didn’t look upset by Martin’s remarks.
He looked interested, professional.

I picked up a carved wooden fish from the coffee table.
“You made this?” I asked Thu.

“Oh, yes. It isn’t difficult.” She poured more of the
fragrant tea into her cup, and gestured slightly toward mine. I held it out,
and Thu refilled it.

“Do you think you could teach me?” I sipped carefully,
afraid of burning my tongue.

“Of course. I’ll be glad to show you. Remind me next
time we get together to work on the sets, and I’ll get you started. It would be
wonderful if you learned to carve—you could help with the puppet heads and
hands.”

“I never tried it before. I don’t know if I’d be able
to do it. . . .” I left the thought dangling.

Thu smiled. “I never did it before the first time
either,” she said. “I’m sure you can do it. You’re very talented. You can use
my tools at first, and then I’ll help you find some of your own.”

The idea of carving was exciting. Drawing was
recording, but carving an animal would be almost like creating a live one. I
looked at the fish again, wondering if I could make something like that.

Or when I’d even have time to try. I didn’t practice
with the puppets as much as Richard did, but I did spend a good bit of time on
it. And somehow I always ended up doing most of the housework, although Richard
kept saying he was going to help. And I’d decided to take Tex up on the modeling
offer, if he still wanted me.

“The Baby”—I was starting to think about it a lot now.
I needed a name. Richard wouldn’t discuss it, so I started turning over names
in my mind. I didn’t want to think up boys’ names and girls’ both, so I thought
of all the ones that would be good for either. Chris was one, but I knew a
Chris I didn’t like. Robin, Jackie, Kelly, Lee . . . .

Richard and I gathered the day’s load of puppets and carried
them home. We looked like parents already, and the thought made me smile—today
we were parents of Prince Satyavan, a dancing girl, a boy hand puppet, and a
horse. Tomorrow’s children might be a frog, a warrior, or a god.

I made chili and corn bread for dinner. Eating the
spicy food, I watched the sky darken behind the misted-up windows. While
Richard washed the dishes, I called Tex. He asked me to model Tuesday nights,
and I made a note on the kitchen calendar.

Richard sponged off the
table, whistling the music from one of the clown routines. The prince’s gold
robes glittered on the chair in the corner. Richard took out the garbage, and I
opened a library book about how to be a good mother. It was pretty dog-eared,
and I imagined the city being full of wonderful mothers who had read every word.
Richard bustled back, letting the screen door slap shut behind him, and took up
a puppet.

TEACHER: That is Prince
Satyavan and his father, a king with no kingdom, for he was conquered and
blinded. Satyavan is well-named “Son of Truth”—he is a man of great virtue.

SAVITRI: Satyavan is the one I
will marry.

I blinked. I hadn’t
expected Richard to do the women’s voices. And the falsetto reminded me of the
man at the cemetery.

ASWAPATI: Daughter, you must
choose a different husband. I have learned from a holy man that Satyavan will
die a year from today.

SAVITRI: Even so, I will marry
Satyavan.

* * *

“Why don’t you get married?” asked Sharon.

“I don’t think Richard wants to,” I said. I had picked
a time when he was away to make this phone call, knowing how it was likely to
go.

“He
does
know
he’s going to be a father?”

“It would be kind of hard to hide it at this point.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to you. Don’t you mind?”

I felt like crying, but I didn’t want Sharon to hear
that. When we were kids, the only time she ever got in a real fight was when I
got picked on at school. “Yes,” I said. “But I’m afraid to push it.”

“Dad and Mom are upset.”

“I knew about Mom. She wants me to get an abortion. I
guess she doesn’t realize it’s too late for that.”

“Well, Dad thinks you should get married. It’s
certainly not too late for
that.
”

“Maybe we will someday. I don’t think this is a good
time to mention it.”
Don’t cry. Don’t let her know how much it hurts that he
doesn’t want me that way.
“It’s the war,
Sharon. He went through some awful stuff. Let it be.”

“Well, can Sam and I still visit?”

“Sure you can. When?”

“Let’s see, it’s April third. Not this month. Sam’s got
a conference and a million other things. Early May?”

I thought about our rehearsal schedule. “May is fine.
Do you still want to stay at the Monteleone?”

“Let me talk to Sam. He might not want to stay in the
Quarter. Especially now that you’re out in Gretna.”

“When are
you
getting married, by the way? Speaking of marriage.” I felt a twist of jealousy.
Why can Sharon get married and not me?

“Probably after Christmas. Mom wanted us to wait a
while longer so she’d have time to organize a big wedding, but we don’t care
about that.”

“Poor Mom. One daughter too fast, one too slow.”

“She should have had a third one. Then one could be
j-u-u-u-s-t right.” Sharon laughed at her mimicry of a record of “Goldilocks”
we’d had when we were little.

“If Mom had a hundred daughters, none of them would
ever
be right. I gotta go now. Doing some
portrait modeling over in the Quarter.”

“Love you, Sis. Don’t let it get you down—it’ll work
out.” Sharon had been in the middle of quarrels between Mom and me more than
once.

“Eventually. Love you.” I hung up.

I drove across the bridge and found a parking spot in
the Quarter. Tex’s apartment on Dumaine was in a quiet, run-down building with
a dry fountain in the courtyard. The class was starting as I got there. Waving
me to the only comfortable-looking chair in the place, Tex draped a black
Spanish shawl around my shoulders and adjusted a light.

It was hard to keep still
for so long. At first I wanted to squirm. My nose itched, but I knew I wasn’t
supposed to move. Then, in the light’s halo, I fell into a near-trance. The
fidgets dropped away, and my mind drifted back to Richard and the puppets, to the
tale of Savitri.

NARRATOR: Savitri and
Satyavan lived in married bliss for one year. And the time approached that
Savitri knew was appointed for Satyavan’s death. For three days and three
nights, she knelt at the altar in prayer.

SATYAVAN: My love, it is good
to fast and pray, but you must not forget to rest. Are you troubled over
something?

SAVITRI:
(rising to her
feet)
Yes, but I may not speak of it.

SATYAVAN: Then I will leave
you to your prayers and go to the forest for the day.