Lesley Livingston: Wondrous Strange

Thoughts in a whirl, Kelley almost ran down the actor playing Puck as he swung himself gracefully off the set scaffolding, singing “Am I blue?” Funny, because he was actually green, a pale iridescent shade head to toe-hair, skin, eyes-right down to his leafy tunic. Kelley had been told by one of the other actors that his name was Bob but that he was something of an extreme Method actor and had demanded he be referred to only by his character name while in costume and makeup-on threat of quitting the production otherwise.

Lunatic actors .

Between him and the equally demanding and very English director Quentin St. John Smyth, Kelley was beginning to think she’d fallen in with a real asylumful at the Avalon Grande. She threw open the doors to the wardrobe storage and fumbled with the rack of rehearsal skirts, slipping one over her jeans and buttoning it as best she could with trembling fingers. “‘Fairies, skip hence,’” she muttered aloud. “No-that’s wrong…”

Oh, God-what’s my first line? Kelley thought frantically.

“‘These are the forgeries of jealousy.’ Aw, crap!” She was blanking. “That’s not even the right speech !” Her heart pounded in her chest, and she leaned her head on the door frame.

This is what you’ve wanted your whole life, she told herself sternly. All those years of putting on one-woman shows for the household pets, and all the months of begging Aunt Emma to let her move to Manhattan to try to make a go of it. This is it. Get out there and show them what you’ve got!

Feeling marginally more confident, Kelley took a deep breath and dashed down the hallway and through the backstage area-at the exact moment that “Puck” launched a handful of glitter into the air. Kelley gasped, startled, as the cloud of sparkles settled on her hair, face, and shoulders.

“Oh-thanks a lot, Bob ,” Kelley muttered, brushing at the shimmering dust as the eccentric actor laughed wickedly and darted toward the stage-left wings. It was futile-she was coated in glitter. “That’s just super. I look like a disco ball.” At least it matched her vintage My Little Pony Princess glitter T-shirt.

“Is she coming sometime today ?” Kelley heard Quentin’s irate tones echo through the theater and felt her nervousness come flooding back as she picked up her skirt and ran toward the stage.

Once there, Kelley discovered that under the lights the fairy dust was shiny to the point of blinding. Distracted, she found herself tripping over both the hem of her skirt and her lines. Her heart began to flutter in her chest as she heard the exaggerated groans and sighs of frustration coming from the darkened rows of seats, where the director sat watching her stumble around like an idiot.

After forty-five minutes they’d progressed only a little over a page into Titania’s first appearance. Kelley had already managed to butcher half her lines, trip over a bench, and step on Oberon’s foot. When she almost toppled off the stage and into the orchestra pit, Quentin called a merciful halt to the proceedings.

“Kelley. Your name is Kelley, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for her confirmation. “Yes. Well. Tell me…that bit just now…was that from Dante’s Inferno ?”

“Uh…no,” Kelley stammered. Her face felt hot.

“Really?”

I’m in for it .

“Are you sure ?” he continued. “Because it most certainly wasn’t from this play. And it bloody well sounded like hell .”

“I-”

“You know…as-well, let’s face it, shall we?-as completely incompetent as our former diva may have been in this part”-Quentin sauntered up onto the stage, where he circled Kelley like a shark-“she did still have one tiny advantage over you , luv.”

“She…she did?”

“Of course she did. She knew the bloody lines!”

The entire cast took a step back to avoid the leading edge of Quentin’s immediate blast radius.

“And, while I obviously appreciate all the effort you’ve put into making yourself sparkly …” Kelley shot a glance at Bob, who’d found something particularly fascinating to look at under one of his fingernails. Probably a sparkle. “What kind of crap -arse UN-DER-STUDY doesn’t know the bloody LINES?”

“But I do know them!” she protested. “I mean, I did. A second ago. Backstage…”

The Mighty Q’s sneer grew. “Well, that’s marvelous . Perhaps we’ll just invite the audience into your dressing room in twos and threes , and you can deliver your performance from there .”

“I…” Oh, God , Kelley thought, it’s just like theater school all over again . The blood roared in her ears, and she thought for a moment that she was going to faint. Or maybe barf. Right there in front of the whole cast. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“ Assuming your delightful predecessor doesn’t miraculously heal, then you have less than two weeks to learn the part. Less than two weeks. This production opens on the first of November come hell or high water . At this point, I’m betting on both .” He turned sharply on his heel and waved one hand in dismissal. “Right. We’re broken for lunch, minions. I can’t see the point of belaboring this any further. Be back here at two for ensemble work. You ”-he aimed a pointed glare at Kelley-“look at your damned script.”

The theater cleared out quickly. No one seemed to want to hang around much after that, and certainly not around her. Kelley stumbled blindly to the courtyard and collapsed onto the steps.

“Kelley?”

She turned at the sound of her name, spoken by Gentleman Jack Savage, the actor playing the fairy king, Oberon, in the show. He was a veteran of the boards-in his early fifties, with a solid presence and a voice that could melt ice or peel paint, depending on how he chose to employ it.

“Hi, Jack,” she said, wiping her eyes in embarrassment.

“Gadzooks, my dear,” he chided her gently. “I know the Mighty Q howls like a banshee, but really, you mustn’t let the old fart get to you.” He sat down beside her on the steps and unscrewed the top of his battered old thermos, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The scent of dark-roast Colombian was comforting.

Kelley gave him a watery smile. “Jack…you know that people- most people-don’t actually use the word gadzooks in everyday conversation anymore, right?”

“I’m on a one-man crusade to bring it back into fashion. Along with odds my bodkins , ’ sblood , and, let us not forget, yoicks .” He took a sip of his coffee and patted her knee with fatherly affection. “Everyone has to have a purpose in life, my dear. That is mine-quixotic as it may be.”

“What if I don’t?” Kelley stared fiercely at her sneakers, willing away the prick of tears from behind her eyes. She felt-she knew -she’d just blown her big chance. “Have a purpose, I mean? A destiny.”

“Impossible.”

“Why do you say that?” She looked up at him, desperate for his honest opinion.

Jack raised an elegant gray eyebrow. “I’m the king of Fairyland, my dear,” he said, and winked at her. “All of that pixie dust has given me extremely potent powers of observation.”

“Jack, I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.” Jack held her gaze, his face serious. “Kelley…you are seventeen. You are on your own in New York City. And you are chasing a dream that most reasonable people consider either unattainable or a damned-fool waste of time. Believe me, I know. All of which tells me that you are either fearless or just a little bit foolish. I suspect both. I also suspect that you are one of those precious few with enough natural talent to make a go of it.”