The Mare

Ginger

I didn’t get what I auditioned for, but I did get several minor parts: solicitor for the poor, drunk, debtor, beggar, tortured soul. It didn’t matter; I loved it. I got to make faces, sing, and even dance in the crowd scenes. Danielle and Yandy ran the theater with their five kids; the whole family acted, sold tickets, ran the concession stand, and made costumes. Because they couldn’t come up with full costumes, Danielle decided we’d wear pajamas under our meager bonnets, skirts, top hats, and dressing jackets; then she decided we should all paint our faces blue. Rehearsals were like a cross between Dalí and Dr. Seuss: chaos, with sudden ecstatic bursts of order. Kids ran everywhere yelling their lines, waving props, having tickle fights, and slapping paint on each other while Danielle yelled about acting philosophy and Yandy played the piano. There were two other adult actors, an out-of-work female psychiatrist about my age and a male nurse in the middle of a divorce. We’d stand around together during the chaos and the psychiatrist would bitch that Danielle and Yandy were sloppy professionally, mentally ill, and probably drunks. I said, Oh, it’s just supposed to be fun. The nurse sucked on his cigarette and ogled my breasts.

But I took it seriously too. I really tried. It actually hurt when Danielle criticized me in front of everybody because she thought my debtor’s reaction to hearing of Scrooge’s death was too nice. “You think she’d be ambivalent to hear that the guy who’s been putting the screws to her is dead? Are you nuts? She’d be overjoyed and nothing else!”

“But wouldn’t you feel ashamed to think you’d come down so low on the food chain that you’d gloat over somebody else’s death?”

Both Danielle and her husband cracked up. “You are some Goody Two-shoes,” he said.

So I went back and tried to be more bitter for them. I tried to picture what Mrs. Vargas would feel if she heard about her landlord dying and not having to pay back rent. I thought she might cackle about it at first. I thought she might say pious things too, then laugh. But when she was alone, I thought she’d feel weird. I thought she might even pray for the person. I don’t know why, but I did.