Someday, Someday, Maybe (20 page)

So when the phone rings at eleven thirty that morning I lunge for it, grabbing it on the second ring. I’ll pretend to Jane I’m in good spirits. I’ll act peppy, as if I’ve been up for hours.

“Psychic Friends Network, Dionne Warwick speaking,” I trill.

“Uh, hello? This is Richard calling from Absolute Artists. Is Franny there?”

I sit up, as if he might be able to see through the telephone that I was lying down at an undignified hour, still in the shorts and tank top I slept in. I clear my throat and try to make my voice sound more awake.

“It’s me. It’s her.” That doesn’t sound right. “It is I.”

“Hello, I. Did I wake you up?”

“No. I’m awake. I, um, have a cold.”

“Oh, shoot. Is it a really bad one? Joe has an audition for you.”

“I’ve just made an extremely speedy recovery.”

“Great!”

“Great!”

“So, it’s today …”

“Today?”

“In about two hours.”

“Today?”

Oh no
. I’ve done nothing for two weeks but sleep late, and drag myself to class and the odd shift at the club. I haven’t worked out. I’ve barely
been
out. I’m unprepared. I’m doughy.

“Sounds great!”

“Sorry it’s so last minute. They need to replace someone on
Pinetree Lodge
.”

“On what?”

“
Pinetree Lodge
, the soap? Excuse me, the daytime drama? Do you know it?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Uh, no. Are you a fan?”

My heart is pounding out of my chest. I can’t believe it.
Pinetree Lodge!
Am I a fan? I’m more than a fan. I’m a student, a devotee. I could write a thesis on my knowledge of
Pinetree Lodge
. What luck! Maybe this is going to be okay. Maybe I’m not repulsive and mushy after all. I’m a genius who has been in studious self-imposed exile whilst honing my craft, waiting for this day to come, with patience and nobility. It was meant to be!

“Yes! I know it. I know it a little too well, actually.”

“Great. Then just get over there as quickly as you can. They’re closing the session at two
P.M.
I’ll fax you the sides and the appointment info. Just call us with any questions, and break a leg.”

“Thanks.”

I’ve got to hurry. But for a moment I stand there in the middle of my room, still holding the receiver, strangely frozen. I should shower. Should I shower? I should. But my hair. If I wash my hair, then I’ll have to dry it. I’ll shower but not wash my hair. I’ll put a towel on my head to keep my hair dry while I take a shower. Where’s my slutty outfit? Most of the girls on
Pinetree Lodge
are slutty, except the older star, Angela Bart, who’s slutty but in a classy, older way. Is that shirt clean? I’ll wear my Wonderbra.
Where’s my Wonderbra?

I’m in and out of the shower in record time. I use the towel that was on my head to dry off. The moisture from the shower has done something helpful to my hair, for once. I can hear the fax machine whirring, the paper falling onto the floor. I’m curious to see the material. I’ll skim it before I get dressed to make sure I’m picking the right thing to wear.

I go to the machine and uncurl the first page.

ABSOLUTE ARTISTS–APPOINTMENT

SUBJECT:      
Franny Banks/
Pinetree Lodge
reading

     
WHEN:      
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 12, 1995

        
TIME:      
2:30 P.M.

   
WHERE:      
ABC Studios, 49 West 66th St, 5th floor

      
WITH:      
Jeff Ross and Jeff Bernbaum, Casting

CHARACTER BREAKDOWN:

{ARKADIA SLOANE} 23–25 years old. Arkadia is the long-lost daughter of millionaire patriarch ELLIS SLOANE. Arkadia was believed to have been drowned by millionaire playboy Peter Livingston’s third wife, millionairess real estate maven ANGELA BART, who hoped to be named sole heir to his fortune, but is discovered to have survived the assassination attempt by making it to shore, although she was only eight months old. Exhibiting the pluck and sass that enabled her to survive as an infant, Arkadia arrives in Pinetree, ready to settle the score and break some hearts. MUST BE COMFORTABLE IN LINGERIE, MUST BE EXCEPTIONALLY BEAUTIFUL/PLEASE SUBMIT ALL ETHNICITIES.

INT. PINETREE LODGE LOBBY–DAY

ANGELA BART gives instructions to a bellhop as other hotel workers assist a few guests. Breathtakingly beautiful ARKADIA SLOANE enters, carrying a suitcase. She stops short in the lobby, spying Angela. One by one the workers and guests notice Arkadia. They stop what they are doing, paralyzed by her awe-inspiring beauty. Finally Angela also looks up.

ANGELA

Yes? Can I help you?

ARKADIA

(Giggles nervously.)

Yes! (regains composure) No. I’m sorry.

That’s just funny, coming from you.

ANGELA

I’m sorry, I’m Angela Bart. Do we know each other?

ARKADIA

I’m sorry to say we do.

ANGELA

If we’ve met before, I don’t remember. I’m sorry. You’re very beautiful, you know.

(Arkadia begins to sob uncontrollably.)

ARKADIA

Beautiful? Do I know I’m beautiful? No, I don’t know! My name is Arkadia Sloane, I know that! You tried to drown me when I was eight months old, I know that! Am I beautiful? That’s the ONLY thing I don’t know, Angela. I DO know that I was found on the banks of a stream by a kindly family of apple-pickers, in southern Vermont, whose crops were regularly the victim of blight and vermin, whose children had long since grown up and moved away, who didn’t need nor want another child, but who took me in, who—although kindly, as I said—believed that mirrors were the Devil’s handiwork. They believed in being honest and hardworking, but plain, as plain as possible! So I grew up without mirrors, without lipstick, without brushes or combs, without proper undergarments! But I made my way to New York City, and I scraped and I struggled, and I made a name for myself! In lingerie! Perhaps you’ve heard of my lingerie line, Arkadia’s Lament?

(Angela gasps.)

ANGELA

That’s YOU?

(Tears stream down Arkadia’s cheeks.)

ARKADIA

Yes Angela, that’s me. Now are you “sorry”? Are you “sorry” now?

ANGELA

Yes. I am. I told you I was, before knowing how truly sorry I was.

(Angela opens her arms wide, welcoming Arkadia.)

ANGELA (CONT’D)

But you’re wrong. You’re wrong about me. I’m so happy you’re here. Your father will be so happy, too, my darling. Please let me welcome you. Join me, everyone!

Patrons and hotel workers gather around Arkadia, AND IN UNISON …

EVERYONE

Welcome to Pinetree Lodge!

ANGLE on:
Arkadia—surprised, happy, tired, and maybe even a bit defiant …

I lower the page and blink a few times.

Holy shit
. I can’t do this.

15
 

Before I know exactly what I’m doing, I’ve dialed Richard back at the agency.

“Did the fax come through?” he asks.

“Um. Yes. Um …”

“The speech is a little heavy-handed I know, but you’ll be great!”

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Huh?”

“This—with the lingerie—everyone stops, because she’s so beautiful, I mean, please—and then at the end, I’m supposed to look both tired
and
defiant, how could anyone possibly—I’m
sobbing
, on top of everything? I don’t even understand …”

“Franny, you’re nervous. You haven’t had an audition in a while. Jeff and Jeff are good casting people, though, and they’re nice guys, too. They’ll know you haven’t had a ton of time with the material. They do other projects besides
Pinetree Lodge
. We just want to get you out there, to be seen. Of course, if you really aren’t comfortable with the material, I can tell Joe …”

“No, no,” I say, quickly backpedaling. “I’m just, uh, having a moment of … um … I’m sure I’m just nervous, like you said. Never mind. I’ll be going now.”

“Have fun with it, Franny, really. It’s just one audition.”

I
’m on the D train heading over the Manhattan Bridge, going over my lines in my head. At least, I thought I was doing them in my head until I heard myself. “Oh!” I say, too loudly, and a girl across the subway car looks up from her book and stares at me, hungrily, as if she enjoys entertainment of the deranged subway-rider kind and is hoping I might say more.

I read the pages over and over again, trying to make them sound more real. But the script is so awkward. All those “sorrys,” and that speech with all the information about the character’s past. No one talks that way. I try to think of what Stavros would say: be truthful, say what you mean and mean what you say, don’t ignore the given circumstances. I just have to use what I’ve learned in class and I’ll be fine.

The given circumstances: abandoned child turns up to see her father. She’s become a success but has stayed away all this time. Why?

Stavros always tells us when we’re analyzing a script to ask, “Why is this day different from any other?” Why did she pick today to show up?

I don’t know; I don’t have enough information. In class we would have had the whole play, not just a single scene, and we’d have studied it for weeks. We would read what other people wrote about it; we would talk about how other directors and actors interpreted the material. How am I supposed to do that with four pages and a twenty-five-minute subway ride?

In a way, I’ve watched enough of the show in the past few weeks to have accidentally done this research already. I know the character she’s speaking to; I know the world they live in. Arkadia is brand-new in town, though. No one on the show has ever spoken about her before. Angela Bart recently had a cancer scare that turned out to be acid reflux, and has also been given a key to the city of Pinetree for all the humanitarian work she did, which she did only because she plans to run for mayor and siphon the campaign funds to pay for the special “youth pills” she gets from an illegal source in Guam. I know a lot about her world, but none of that helps me know how to play Arkadia.

Also, there’s the crying. I’ve never had to cry in an audition before, let alone “sob” like the stage directions say. In class I’ve been able to eke out a tear or two now and then, but I can’t imagine just bursting into tears in an audition room. I’ll have to be so otherwise riveting and compelling that the casting directors won’t notice.
Make it your own
, Stavros always says. That’s right! That’s all I have to do. I’ll show them who
my
Arkadia is. I will be the Arkadia who’s coming home for the first time, who’s been hurt and angry and discarded, who for some reason has bravely chosen this day to stand up for herself, and who does it all without crying.

By the time I sign in with the guard in the lobby (name, who I’m seeing, floor, time) and get my name tag (Frances Banks—Visitor, Jeff and Jeff Casting, 34th floor), I’m flying high. I’ve convinced myself that I know Arkadia Sloane as well as if she’s a real person. I have pushed to the back of my mind such annoying issues of reality as how she possibly found out who her real father was while isolated on a farm in Vermont, the likelihood of an eight-month-old infant swimming to safety, and why anyone would buy underwear that has “Lament” in the name. None of that matters now. I
am
Arkadia. I’m feeling pretty confident.

I realize on my way up that I forgot to change out of my lace-up Doc Martens. The elevator is almost full, so I have to scrunch myself into the corner to avoid hitting anyone while I switch into my heels. When I look up, we’re already at the thirtieth floor, next stop thirty-four. I jam my left heel onto my foot and stuff my chunky boot into my bag just as the doors open. I spill out of the elevator, almost losing my balance. I should have put my heels on outside and practiced for a block or so to get used to them, but it’s too late to worry about that now.