The Audition

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THE AUDITION
By Elizabeth Gay

     Normi shifted once more from the right side to the left.  Sleep eluded her.  Tomorrow was the big day.  She was sure that the two scenes she had chosen would show her off to best advantage, but what other questions would he ask?  She hated being asked about her life.  How could she avoid these questions?  Improvisations had always been her undoing.  Suddenly she was out like a light.  When she woke, her mother stood beside her:” Darling, don’t you have a date for a picnic with Lottie?” “Yes, Mutti, what time is it?” “10 o’clock.” Lottie had promised to cover for her. She was out of bed. “Thanks Mutti.”  Bathed, dressed in jeans and a blouse, with a carefully packed satchel containing her clothes and her make-up.  “Why are you taking a satchel?” “Oh, I am the one to bring the picnic.”  “I made vanilli kipferl this morning, would you like some?” “Gee, Mutti, that would be nice of you-but just a few please.” She escaped with a big kiss and a say hi to daddy for me.  She went to Grand Central, changed clothes in the washroom, put on make-up skillfully and took a bus to Tribecca.  At 11.30 she knocked on the studio door of Mr. Goode.  Knocked hard when there  was no answer.  Finally a young girl answered the door. It was unmistakable that she had cried.  The girl showed her into the studio and left, closing the door with a bang.  The man, sitting be hind the desk, yelled:”  Alright, Sylvia, I know you are mad, but believe me, it’s for your own good!” He was tall, old-but handsome old-with a shock of silver hair and the beautifully trained voice of an actor.  To Normi he said in a voice that had lost every trace of annoyance: “You are the 11.30?”  Normi nodded yes.  “Please give me a few minutes.  Sit down or you can look around.”  Normi, too restless to sit, looked around.  The walls were plastered with letters.  She started to read and suddenly she burst out laughing.  That was Mr. Goode’s cue.  “You like them?”, he asked.  Normi nodded.  “Can you talk?  Or do you only use body language?” “I can talk, Mr. Goode, and I know this is no laughing matter for the girls you interviewed-but what a good idea.”  “Yes, I always write a letter to the parents, when I reject someone-and they are all grateful that their little chicks come back to them.  My favorite reply is on the other side of the room, red that one out loud.”  “Dear Mr. Goode, I can’t thank you enough for telling Clarice that she is not cut out to go on the stage and sent her home to her loving and very Frustrated father.  She is getting over her depression and will soon be right as rain, because a young man has come courting.  Thanks for asking about her.  To show you how grateful I am, I am sending you by separate mail an example of my roasted pig.  I’ll bet that Clarice never told you that I have the best and biggest piggery in Iowa.  You will get one every Christmas from now on until one of us kicks the dust. Until then your friend, Home Trotter."

    “Well, now to you, young lady.  What are you doing as your first monologue?” “Viola from Twelfth Night.”  Normi quickly slipped out of her heels, and put on a pair of boys’ shoes, which she extracted from her satchel.  She then started, walking with a boy’s gait and  with a boy’s voice said: “I left no ring with her.” When she had finished she knew she had done fairly well, because she realized that she was not afraid anymore, but exhilarated, by being able to bring Viola to life.  “Yes”, said Mr. Goode. “And what about a modern monologue”  “Well, I have a piece from one of the scene books, but the guy who wrote it is not famous.  I liked it, because it reminded me of my dog, Zeus, who was killed before we left Austria.  But I can also do something more traditional if you’d rather.” No, go ahead with the dog story.”  It was a story about a young woman who had lost  her husband in the war.  She had loved him with all the fervor of a first love and now, three years later, she still did.  She had a little boy, two years old, already a spitting image of her husband.  After her husband’s death she had gotten a German shepherd from her parents, a watchdog, to protect her and the child.  The dog had become part of the family, but now he was failing. An exam proved that he had cancer.  After getting two opinions assuring herself that the dog had only pain ahead, she had the vet put him away. She had taken him to the doctor and stroked his head while the needle went in.  He licked her face one moment, the next moment he was dead.  She had never been able to express her mourning for her husband  but now, when she came home, she cried for the losses in her life.  Her neighbor, a nice elderly lady, who had watched her son, while she was gone, sat next to her and hugged her.  Finally the younger woman says:”I’m sorry, I don’t want people to be sorry for me and look what a mess I made!  Normi cried after hugging the imaginary neighbor. She had cried her heart out and was limp. 

    “Alright, young lady.” “I’m sorry, Mr. Goode, I guess I lost control and I know an actor should never do that. It made me Think of Zeus, whom I’d lived with for 10 years and then those bastards, the Nazis, shot him dead for target practice.  We were walking in the Stadtpark, Zeus and I, and they tried to pick me up, but I pretended that I did not hear them and started running with Zeus and they shot him!  “Well, I liked everything you did so far-but I have something in mind for you,  Let’s do an improv. I’ll be a gent who picks you up in Central Park-you’ll be the proverbial hooker with a heart of gold. But please-no sob story about a sick mother or anything else soppy.  Otherwise do as you please.” 

    Normi had no experience with the ladies of the night, but of course she had seen them.  Lately she has also watched the movie La Ronde.  She immediately adjusted her blouse to show off her décolleté, then sauntered on the path where she saw Mr. Goode.  “Hallo, good looking, want some company?’ “Yes, I could do with someone young and cheerful.” “Well, you found someone!” “Now tell me, why would a pretty girl like you become a girl for hire?”  “Well, what do you think? Why do we do it?” Then, perfectly imitating Mr. Goode she said: “Now I want no fake sob story,  want the real reason." 

    "Alright; if you can’t figure it out, I’ll be happy to tell you.  For MONEY-MONEY! And that gets me to my leading question:  How much will you pay for my company?” “ $ 50.00” Fifty Dollars! Normi’s eyes had grown huge.  And in that second she lost it.  From a lady of the night she  changed to Normi. “So much?” Normi asked.  Mr. Goode was laughing.  “Enough!  I’m not going to let you embrace that profession and I’ll be honest with you-I simply don’t know the going rate.  You did well, Normi. I want you to join my summer theatre. How are you set for money?”  “I have none”. “How about your parents?  “Well, yes, they’ve got it, but they won’t give it to me for anything connected with acting.  They want me to get married.  I’m hungry, would you mind if I had an apple? Would you like to try some of my mother’s Vanilli Kipferln?” They sat, companiably eating, when from under the desk a huge dog emerged. “Aha, here is Odysseus;  he smells food and he comes out of hiding.”  “Oh, he’s beautiful!”  She offered Odysseus a Vanilli Kipferl, which he took daintily.  “I have an idea”, said Mr. Goode.  “Are you willing to do some grocery shopping and cooking? And taking Odysseus for walks?  “Of course, Mr. Goode.”  “I’ll give you some good parts, but you’ll also have to play small ones when I need you.” “Of course, Mr. Goode.” “In Exchange you’ll get food and lodging.  It’s good.. The kids pay $l.500.00 for it.  Do we have a deal?” “You sure do, Mr. Goode.” Odysseus sat, picked up his right paw, grabbed Normi’s hand and shook it. “Oh,” said Normi, "Odysseus has a deal with me too!”   

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