Page 98 of You Spin Me

Picturing inflated surgical gloves bopping in the air as we dove and swatted them with bandaged limbs, competing to keep them from touching the hospital floor, I shake my head. “I can’t believe it’s you.” Laughing as another memory hits me, I shake a finger at her. “I remember you starting a massive food fight. Do the Shriners know what a troublemaker you were?”

“Why do you think they hired me?”

As she draws me into shared memories, for the first time ever, I’m saddened that I wasn’t able to maintain the bonds forged in the burn treatment trenches. We played together and ate together, and as Sharon said, we heard each other cry. But when a kid left, you never saw them again unless their follow-up surgeries happened to overlap with yours. I never wanted to dwell on my time there, so I never sought anyone out, either.

“So, I guess there’s a reason they sent you to talk to me,” I finally say.

“Yes, there is. But believe it or not, I don’t mean to use childhood memories as leverage.”

“It’s not a part of my life that I have any desire to revisit, that’s for sure. And honestly, I don’t know why you’d want me as a poster boy.” I draw a line between her face and mine. “Why not you?”

“My range of experiences make me a strong advocate. But you have an audience. You literally have a megaphone in there,” she says, pointing in the direction of the studio. “You reach more people in one hour than I can in a month.”

“But if they want to trumpet their successes, wouldn’t they want someone who looks better? You barely notice the scars on your face. Mine are still a mess. And my back is worse.”

Sharon continues to make her case, doing her best to get me to see the other side of each of my arguments. Finally, she seems to sense that I’ve had enough. She extends an invitation to come and tour the hospital to see the improvements they’ve made as well as their plans for the future, which include creating a summer camp for burn survivors.

As I walk her to the exit, she makes one last plea. “I understand your reticence, believe me. But please think about it, not only for them—the kids who’ll benefit—but for you.” She hands me a videotape. “Watch this? I’ll think it’ll help you see how connecting with other survivors can change your life. I know it saved mine.”

Chapter29

I’ve got tickets for the third caller to see the Rolling Stones live at the Cape Cod Coliseum this Saturday, compliments of Boston’s best rock station, WBAR.

JESS

Saturday morning I have to be back in Boston for a ten o’clock audition appointment, which means I have to get up at six to get ready. Jack and Earl are driving down with me, which is nice, but it kills me that they literally roll out of bed fifteen minutes before we have to leave.

By the time we make it to the theater and park, my bladder feels like it’s going to explode, so I ask the guys to sign in for me while I run to the ladies’ room. By the time I make it to the waiting area, I’m late for my call.

Luckily, the directors are running late too. As I run my audition monologues in my head, I do my best to stretch out the kinks in my tired body. For the first time in years, I’m nervous for a Shakespeare Boston audition, so nervous that I’m downright nauseous. Since my reign as the company ingenue is over, this is my shot to convince the powers that be that I can do other things.

As I take slow, deep breaths to counter the fight-or-flight response churning in my belly, I remind myself that I’ve had successes away from the womb of this theater. This place may have been my first professional home, but it won’t be my last. No matter what happens this morning, I’ll find work. I’ve talked myself into not worrying about it when another wave of nausea hits. Along with the need to pee again.

Bella walks in the door as I’m running for the bathroom. “Hey, you’re still here; I?—”

“Hold that thought; I have to pee.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I grab her hand and pull her down the hall. “I don’t have much time.”

On the way back from the bathroom, Bella tells me she’s decided to read for Trinculo as well as Adriana, and I confess that I decided last minute to read for Luciana inComedy of Errors, instead of the lead role. Adriana is the kind of role I’m known for, but Luciana’s speeches are a better balance to Caliban’s.

The moment Bella and I settle down in a corner, I’m finally called in. I’m a little dizzy when I hop up from the floor, but Bella catches me from behind so I don’t land on my butt.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just lost my balance.”

She squeezes my hand. “Have fun in there. Break legs and all.”

I blow out a breath. “Thanks.”

Once I’m inside, Mira and Dave really put me through my paces. I figured I’d perform my pieces and that’d be it, but both directors give me direction and have me go at them again.

Dave asks me to add another layer to what I’m doing with Luciana. “What if she starts out berating her sister, but then gets caught up in a fantasy of the perfect man?”

Going for it, picturing Luciana as a corseted spinster who gets carried away, I’m dizzy with desire by the time I get to “Men, more divine, the masters of all these,” and I let that play all the way through “are masters to their females, and their lords” but then turn on a dime and wrestle it all back under control for the final line, “Then let your will attend on their accords.”

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