Reliability

Posted on by gmfx

Doug marveled.

No one would have described Doug as artistic. Very few would have described him at all. The former mechanic was an oddity at the theater where he worked, if only because he was so mundane. But avant-garde dance and eclectic productions of Shakespeare still need someone to raise the curtain. Doug had strong arms, deft hands, and never missed a cue.

Reliability can be easy to overlook.

Doug was there for every show. From his post at the fly rail, far from the stage lights, Doug watched. Doug listened. Doug saw.

No one would have described Mazie as a star. Few would have described her either. But every night, Mazie found a fresh rose at her place in the dressing room. She was just the understudy. But soon she had more flowers than she knew what to do with.

Sometimes, reliability means everything.

When Mazie took a bow her first night in the lead role, Doug marveled at how the light danced around her face. From his spot off stage, he whispered, “Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek.”

Then Mazie turned to look at him and blew a kiss.

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox

Photo by Emily C. Fox

Stage

Posted on by gmfx

75

She had to take slow, careful steps to reach the center of the stage, but her pain disappeared as the applause reached a crescendo. This was why she kept performing; not for the applause, but for the audience. For a chance to create something meaningful.

50

A trophy, gleaming gold. Lights shining in her eyes. Faces turned toward her expectantly. “Thank you,” she began. They would think she meant for the award. How could she let them know it was for so much more.

35

The audience had been thin and the performance had been exhausting. Bad reviews had scared people off, and they had never managed to turn it around. Each night she asked herself if it was worth going on, not just with this show, but with the whole damn career.

When she left the dressing room that night, a wide-eyed girl lingered in the theatre lobby. “It’s you,” she said. There were tears in her eyes. “Thank you”

25

She stood in Times Square, dizzy and delirious, staring up at a her name on a marquis.

20

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“It won’t be easy.”
“I know. But maybe it will mean something.”

Bruise

Posted on by gmfx

“Oh Valerie!” Eddy’s sing-song voice called out.

“What, you still can’t manage to give yourself a black eye?” I grumbled.

Eddy leaned back with a smug grin. “Clumsy fingers. Besides, Valerie loves working with me. Don’t you, Val?”

And then she was in the dressing room with us. “I really don’t mind,” she said, moving briskly to arrange makeup supplies. I busied myself with tying my cravat so I wouldn’t end up staring at her.

“See?” Eddy teased. Even without looking, I knew he was grinning at me.
I had tied the cravat wrong. Frustrated, I undid the knot and started over. “You’re exploiting the poor girl,” I said.

“Nonsense,” Eddy declared, “I’m giving her life purpose, isn’t that right, Val?”

In spite of myself, I was staring and saw her shoulders shrug as she worked. “I really don’t mind,” she insisted.

Eddy suddenly grabbed her hand, lowered the makeup brush, and leaned forward to whisper. “Perhaps you could powder his nose so that he doesn’t feel left out.”

Her lips pressed together, mouth crinkled, but the laugh escaped anyway.

My face went hot. I rushed out of the dressing room, suddenly desperate for the refuge of being someone else.

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox