Chapter Eighteen

“When the sky is lit with starry light, I kiss the moon and say goodnight.” Angeline spoke her line wistfully. She twirled in the moonlight, and the ribbons sewn into her costume created a magnificent satin cage around her. “I must go to see the temptress that we all know. And if by morning I shall die, at least I would have bid my last goodbye.”

She stepped daintily across the stage lighted by torchlight, constructed in the local park. The whir of applause sent a chill through her body. The stage was the only place where she felt comfortable: wearing someone else’s clothes, speaking someone else’s words, losing herself in someone else’s life. It was the place where she was freed of everything “Angeline”—all of her thoughts, her problems and her so-called gifts.

She loved to play pretend.

But it wasn’t just pretend. When she acted, she was making a wish with all of her body to be somebody, anybody, but her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the production assistant staring at her with critical distain. She knew from previous experience what would come once the curtain was drawn.

“Angeline. I need to talk to you.”

“Of course. How can I help you?”

“You missed three shows last week. We have decided to go in another direction. Tonight will be your last performance with the company. We hope that you understand.”

“Of course. I’m sorry to have put you in this position. I am sure that it was difficult to replace me on those nights. Again, I’m truly sorry and please thank the director for the opportunity.”

Then she collects her things and disappears into the night. This was a script that she had enacted too many times in the past. She wished for a new script.

***

“Well, that’s a disappointment, darling,” her mother cooed disingenuously through the telephone line. “But you’re too good for them anyway. It was just a local theatre production.”

“Mom,” Angeline said. “It wasn’t just a local production in a park. I loved the character, I loved the lines and I loved the show. It was magical,” she said, scooping another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“But, darling, you have been on television,” her mother said, as if this held some great importance. “You need to focus on taking steps forward, not backward.”

“A guest spot on a pilot hardly makes me a television star. Besides, I need the work.”

What she really meant was that she needed the money.

“You just need some rest, sweetie. Do you have any valium?” her mother asked.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m trying.”

“Thanks.”

They both paused awkwardly. The more years they spent living their separate lives, the more difficulty they had making a solid connection. But they still tried, out of respect for the institution of the mother/daughter relationship.

“Have you talked to your father recently?”

“He’s doing pretty well,” Angeline said, thinking to add, “He misses you.”

“Well, that’s nice, sweetie,” her mother replied, obviously distracted by something other than their conversation. Angeline heard the deep murmur of a man’s voice in the background, followed by the sound of lips kissing. She could only imagine what her mother was up to.

“Mom, it sounds like you’re busy.”

“What?” Her mother clicked back into the conversation. “No, David just got home.”

“David?” Angeline yawned. Another month, another man. Her mother had relationship ADHD.

“Yes, darling, I’m sure I told you about him,” she laughed airily.

“I’m sure you did,” Angeline replied, already bored with this line of conversation.

She wondered what it would be like to have a mother who was more mature than hers was. Her mother’s life was spent pursuing flights of fancy. She espoused niceties that didn’t mean anything. She offered advice that only a five-year-old would find useful. They had never been able to have a meaningful conversation because her mother never allowed herself to go more than cellophane deep. She wanted her mother to rise to the occasion, but she never did.

“You know what you need?” her mother giggled.

“A break.”

Angeline heard the male murmur in the backgr-

ound again.

“David thinks that since you are, you know, spiritual . . . Sedona would be exciting for you.”

“Please don’t discuss my problems with David,” Angeline said, beginning to fume.

“Oh, honey, don’t be so private. You’re my daughter, and that means that from time to time you will come up in conversation.”

“Just, Mom,” Angeline stuttered. “Just . . .”

Angeline heard the line click followed by a dial tone.

“Mom?” She checked her phone and discovered that she had full service. “Figures.” She threw her phone on the couch and ate another handful of popcorn.

Sedona.

Sedona.

Sedona.

The word resounded through her head repeatedly. She had never heard of Sedona before, yet the familiar sound of its name strummed her heartstrings. She was utterly resistant to the idea of following the advice of one of her mother’s random boyfriends, yet she was also curious. She picked up her phone and typed the word Sedona into the Internet browser.