Things I Never Told My Wife
True confessions of a Shakespearean actor
Chapter 15
EL AND I SCREWED every chance we got—which wasn’t often. I learned quickly to carry duct tape so I could remove the white cat hair from my clothes. My suit coat that first night had been used as a bed by one of the cats and I didn’t discover it until I was in the garage. Fortunately, I had tape out there and managed a quick clean-up before I went into the house. Daphne was asleep and wouldn’t have seen it but I didn’t want to take any risks.
Three weeks after school was out, El’s friend returned from Europe and she left for Indiana. She had a summer gig at the Wagon Wheel Playhouse in Warsaw. We kept in touch but our emails were innocuous.
For my part, I was headed to California in a week for the Cal Shakes Festival. I was cast as Petruchio in The Taming of the Shrew. I’d already announced to Jon that was the show I planned to do next at PCAD. I had a lot of ideas about how I could use Traci. On stage. I was looking forward to being on stage and devoting as much time to it over the summer as I could.
Shakespeare often uses a “play within the play” as an artifice. That’s where Hamlet’s famous line “The play’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king” comes from. But nearly all of The Taming of the Shrew is a play within the play. A troupe of players come to town and convince a drunken tinker that he is a Lord and they are performing for him. It is a very minor part but he’s ‘on stage’ watching the play for the entire performance. And in the script, Shakespeare seems to forget about him because the play within the play ends and there is never a resolution to how Sly is informed that he is not the real Lord.
I had the notion that I would make Sly a large doll and have Traci operate him, wandering into the action, drinking, and being a bit in the way as the players act around him. I was certain Traci could handle it if we could get a doll that would obey her. Perhaps even another actor. Hmm.
Regardless, it would be a comic interpretation of a very funny, even if misogynistic, play.
I arrived in Berkeley in mid-June and drove out to Orinda where I went immediately into rehearsals. It was a good cast and I got along well with my fellow performers. We had three weeks before we went into dress rehearsals and opened. It was as intense as any production at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival but the plays did not run as long. As soon as ours went on stage, another would start rehearsal. But our job did not reduce to performance only when we went on stage. Many of the actors would begin rehearsing the next play and some of us, including me, would become instructors in a summer camp for young actors.
“Terry Reichert, as I live and breathe.” I turned toward the speaker and smiled.
“Claire! Don’t tell me you are part of this ragtag players’ troupe. I have to assume you are working here this summer.” Claire had been one of the actresses I’d worked with at Ashland a few years ago. She hadn’t been with the company the last two years I was there.
“I’ve been working in Stratford, Ontario the past few years but any gig gets old after a while. I had the opportunity to come here for the summer while I decide what to do next.”
“Any prospects?”
“I’ve been invited next season to the American Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford, Connecticut. Just moving from Stratford to Stratford. I’ve an interesting alternative, though. I’ve been solicited to direct a Shakespeare group in Minneapolis that’s been struggling along for a while and wants to go to a year-round schedule. Can I convince you to join me?”
I sighed. Even if I wasn’t married and wasn’t with PCAD, returning to Minneapolis would just be too painful. Every place I turned would remind me of CeeCee.
“I’m afraid I’m not available. I have accepted a teaching gig at the Pacific College of the Arts and Design. I’ve put one year in and they signed me to a second year contract as soon as the show I directed this spring was over. What are you playing here? Or are you directing?”
“We open The Merry Wives of Winsor this weekend. I’m playing Mistress Quickly. Small but satisfying role while I prep for Kate in The Taming of the Shrew. And since you are here, I suppose I’ll be seeing you in that show.”
“More than you hoped. I’m playing Petruchio.”
“Oh, God! Are you planning to get physical with the role?”
“It’s up to the director, but I don’t see any other way to play it.”
“Hmm. We might need to have extra private rehearsals so you can figure out exactly how hard to spank me.” She raised her eyebrows and after all this time, I still blushed. I’d get her back for that.
“The play is a powerful metaphor,” Rae Stevens, our director, said. “Katharina is Everywoman, reduced to diminutives and servitude, and Petruchio is the essence of masculine toxicity, vowing to marry a woman old as a crone or vile as a shrew as long as the money is right. We’ve cut all the initial byplay with Sly and the Lord of the Manor. It doesn’t advance the story and even Shakespeare forgot about him as soon as the players enter. As the play progresses, we’ll see that Katharina is never truly tamed, but learns how to control Petruchio through feigned subservience—just like modern women do to overbearing men.”
I disliked the director already and glanced over at Claire in time to see her turn her head and roll her eyes. Well, we weren’t paid to argue with the director, but I put it out of my mind that I’d learn anything helpful for my spring production. She was completely cutting the character I was subtly turning into a lead.
The first read-through went pretty well. Most of us had the parts fully memorized—at least those of us with leading roles. As she started to coach us on our parts, I could see her interpretation come to life. While it didn’t compare to mine—nor to Shakespeare’s, for that matter—the play could certainly be bent to her interpretation. Especially since she was playing it in modern dress in which Petruchio would be dressed in blue jeans and a wife beater. Much of the physical humor was replaced by more restrained action with an emphasis on the psychological battle of wills that Kate ‘lets Petruchio believe he has won.’
Our anticipated private sessions to see how hard I should spank Claire became sessions moaning over a beer about our lost careers once this production was mounted. Well, I hadn’t come here to screw my costar. We’d never really had that kind of relationship despite the teasing we sometimes did to each other. I secretly suspected Claire was a lesbian but was not out.
“Are you heading back to Seattle as soon as the show is over? I’ll be prepping to reprise my role as Mistress Quickly, only this time in Henry V.”
“When the show is over, yes. But I’ll be spending our production weeks coaching in the young actors camp.”
“Ah. I’m going to be so worn out at the end of this show, I don’t know if I could tolerate coaching teens. And you do it for a living now. How do you stand it?”
“It has its benefits,” I said. I looked down at my beer trying to decide if I should say anything more to Claire. I was too late.
“You sly dog. You’re screwing a bunch of college age actress wannabes. Do you promise them stardom? Better grades?”
“Claire, you know me better than that. I’d never coerce a woman in any way. But some of them…”
“Don’t tell me you are going to use the tired old excuse that ‘she made you do it.’ Perhaps Rae is correct in her interpretation of this play after all.”
“No! Don’t be silly. No one made me do anything. She just made it easy to do. And she was every bit as much a participant in initiating things as I was.”
“Mutual.” Oh, God! The most suggestive one-word line in all of Shakespeare. I’d watched Claire deliver the line in such a coy and seductive way in Measure for Measure that the entire audience lost it. In that one word, she showed why the play was considered a comedy. I’d played Angelo, the duplicitous deputy of the duke who was eventually sentenced to marry Mariana.
“Yeah. Very much so. And short-lived. I didn’t do anything until she was no longer a student.”
“Where is the shy reserved guy who was too brokenhearted to date after the loss of his one true love?”
“Married with two kids, both in their terrible twos.”
“You have twins?”
“Irish. Billy will have his second birthday while I’m still down here. Michelle will turn three in August.”
“Pull yourself together, Terry. You aren’t that kind of guy.”
I looked myself in the eye as I stood in front of the mirror that night. Sadly, I discovered that I actually was that kind of guy.
Shrew opened with the typical fanfare for the Cal Shakes. It just didn’t seem to have the snap that this play usually has. Only one reviewer wrote it up. He seemed to have missed the subtle message Rae was trying to get across and called the show ‘a respectable mounting’ of Shrew. At least he hadn’t called it ‘adequate.’
I’d attended a show back in college years ago that was an absolute horror. One of my friends was in it and I have to admit it’s not as easy to see the overall effect of a show from on stage. You can think you are doing a stellar job and still really stink at it. So, of course, you seek validation from your friends.
“Terry! What did you think? How did I do?” How can I be supportive and still let him know it stank?
“John! Your stage presence! My God! You were right there on stage!”
Monday after we opened, the campers arrived. They were checked in and gathered at lunch so the camp director could introduce the staff and get things started. We each got to say a few words about what we’d be teaching them.
“Our first week together will be focused on stage movement. The blurb in the camp brochure focused on blocking. Yes, you’ll learn how to take direction and move from one place to another. But that isn’t all. Theatre is physical. You can have a talking head with a good voice read the evening news on television. On stage, if the head is not attached to a body that moves smoothly and naturally, people will go to sleep. Class is usually mid-morning. Since we’re getting to each of the classes this afternoon, I’ll have you about an hour after lunch. Please show up in clothes that will be comfortable for a workout. And don’t overeat.”
At two o’clock, I had thirty kids lined up in front of me in the studio. I led them through a number of stretches while I mentally evaluated the group. A holdover from the days of Shakespeare, the vast majority of plays have casts that are predominantly male. He cast boys to play the roles of women—no women allowed on stage. But in modern times, girls in acting classes, camps, college theatre programs, and auditions outnumber boys two to one. You’d think guys would wise up. But this camp was no exception.
“Anyone in the group trained in martial arts?” I asked when stretching was finished. One girl raised a hand. “Don’t confuse what we’re about to do with your martial arts experience. This next exercise is about connecting your head and your body, not about self-defense. We’ve got a big space, so spread out in rows so you have a personal bubble of six feet. Six feet left and right before the next person in line. Six feet front and back before the next row.”
They scrambled into position and I strolled between the rows making sure each had plenty of room. I took note that most of the guys were in the third and fourth rows. Turning around to face forward, I couldn’t blame them. Twenty girls in leotard and tights. Twenty firm, tight, teenage asses. I sighed a little and returned to the front of the class.
“We’re going to do lunges but in a different way than you might have used them in gym. I want you to stride out on your right foot and strike forward with your right fist. I think boxers call the motion a jab. Hold the stretch to a count of three and then bring your left foot up even with the right, dropping the jab. When we are all upright and balanced, we’ll lunge downstage on the left foot and jab with the left fist. We’ll do that until I’m pinned against the wall here and then about face and do it upstage. Ready? Lunge right.”
They all had a look of determination on their faces. I walked through the ranks and made corrections to form. The corrections were mostly in getting them to extend better. I wasn’t worried about fighting form. I’d just introduced the terms upstage and downstage to them for the first time.
When they reversed direction, I stayed behind them, just to enjoy the view. During the rest of the week, I’d have them in three groups for an hour each. The master class was for first day introductions only, so instead of having three twenty-minute sessions, the instructors all got an hour the first afternoon. I didn’t control who was in each group but there was sure to be a sexy teen girl in each one.
“Mr. Reichert?”
“Hi, Sarah. Didn’t you get the memo that I’m just Terry?” The girl who had stopped me after class was one of the older girls at camp. She was also the first who had shed her tights and came to class in just her leotard. Reminded me of El. The girl was just about as beautiful as El, too. She had one of the asses I’d been watching in my class the first week. Give her a couple more years to mature and Wow!
“Sorry, Terry. I was raised in a very strict home. All adults were always Mr. or Mrs. or Miss.”
“No Ms.?”
“That’s the devil’s word. Women fit in one of the traditional categories.”
“With that strict an upbringing, I’m surprised you were allowed to come to camp.”
“My parents think I’m at church camp.”
“That will be hard to explain when you get home.”
“I’m never going home again. I turned eighteen in May and this was my way out.”
“Sarah, this is an expensive camp. How did you manage…?”
“I got a scholarship. Now I’m trying to figure out what to do when camp is over.”
“College? I’m sure you could continue to get a scholarship.”
Sarah snorted at me. “I’ve never taken any of the required tests or anything. The soonest I could get into a college program would be next year. I didn’t even graduate officially. I turned eighteen the week before graduation and my parents took me out of school. A teacher in my high school was really nice and helped me get out and get this scholarship. And it didn’t hurt much.”
“What didn’t hurt?”
“Um… The sex. You know. It was my first time. That’s why I came to you. I thought maybe you could help me if I let you put your… um… thing in me.”
“No!”
“You won’t help me?”
“I won’t fuck you in order to help you.”
“Don’t you like pretty teens? There was a lottery back home to see who would get to marry me.”
“Oh, I like pretty teens plenty, but I don’t fuck girls as payment for helping them. And you shouldn’t offer that.”
“It’s all I have. Guys will pay a hundred dollars to get me naked and sex me. I learned to make them use a condom, though.”
This beautiful, sweet, and naïve girl had been selling herself in order to live? Christ Almighty! I needed to do something fast.
“Are you all right now or have you been selling sex in camp?”
“I still have the hundred dollars I had when I got off the bus here. A nice guy took me to the back seat and I didn’t even need to get all undressed. It didn’t take long. So, I haven’t let anyone here but you know I’d do that.”
“I’d like to help you, but I still won’t take sex as a payment. And if you need money, let me know. I’ll do what I can. You don’t have to have sex with anyone you don’t want sexually. Let me make a couple of calls and see what I can do for you. Do you care about what part of the country you go to for college?”
“No. I came here to California from Kansas. I’d still have sex with you. I chose you to talk to because I like you like that.”
“Thank you, Sarah. You are a beautiful and talented girl. Let me see what I can do.”
I got assessments from the other teachers at the camp. We met over a beer one evening to talk about who we thought had long-term potential in theatre. I casually brought Sarah’s name up.
“Good, talented girl,” Moe said. “She’s a bit shy but I could see her going places. She’d be good in your program.”
“My program?” I asked. I really did not want to take Sarah to Seattle.
“Yeah. Didn’t you graduate from Ohio University? They’ve been doing some really good experimental stuff. Won the American College Theatre Festival last year.” I hadn’t been keeping up with my alma mater. Shame on me.
“I didn’t even think of that.”
“How about that guy with the deep mellow voice?” Reese asked. “He sings and has good stage presence.”
“A little gawky. Do you think he really wants to act or is he only interested in singing?”
Fortunately, Ohio is three hours ahead of California so I could make a lot of phone calls before I had to teach my first class in the morning. I talked to Julian in the theatre department and after general chit chat about how I was doing, we got down to business.
“I’m working with a vulnerable girl. She’s eighteen but lived in one of those religious ‘neighborhoods’ that had already determined who she was going to marry. She ran away and is flat broke. But she’s great. On stage she opens up like a flower. Crystal voice, good movement, follows direction, and is beautiful. I’m trying to find a scholarship for her to attend OU.”
“Hmm. You’re sure she could cut it here? Grades?”
“Her high school gave her a transcript before she ran away. I’m willing to provide a stipend for her personal expenses, but I can’t cover tuition and housing.”
“Why don’t you take her to PCAD?”
“I think she’d feel obligated to me in a personal way. I don’t think I should risk those repercussions. You wouldn’t take advantage of her, would you?”
“Those days are long past, Terry. I need Viagra to even get a piss hard-on. And this is my last year here. I’m retiring. So, no one would even know she was a scholarship student. If you think she’s that good, I’ll find a grant. But she should have a family and in-state address. Your family?”
“Once again, I don’t think she should be that close to me. I’ll call CeeCee’s parents.”
“I was really sorry to hear about her. You have my sympathy.”
“It’s been nine years. I have a wife and two kids and there still isn’t a day that goes by without me thinking of her. Let me make some more calls. I have a class to teach in an hour. Thank you, Julian.”
“Good morning, Mark. It’s Terry Reichert.”
“Terry! How are you, son? We got your card for Solstice. That’s very kind of you to remember us.”
“I think about CeeCee every day. But part of what I remember is what wonderful parents she had. That’s what brings me to this call.”
“How can I help you, Terry?”
“I’m mentoring a young woman with incredible theatre talent. I’ve managed to get her a spot at OU this fall but she needs residency with a family in Ohio. Mark, she’s a damaged girl. She came from a homelife that was a strict religious sect and had already decided who she’d marry. She needs someone who can be there for her and accept her. I can help with the expenses, but I can’t bring her to Seattle. Is there any way you could find it in your heart to take her in when she’s not in school?”
“I’ll talk to Frankie. I’m sure she’d be delighted. It would be lovely to have a young woman around again. I can’t tell you how much we miss Cheryl. And you. I’ll call back.”
My show closed on the twenty-sixth of July. Camp continued until August first. I talked to the program director and explained the situation. On Thursday before the camp closed officially, Sarah and I boarded a plane to Ohio. Mark and Frankie fell in love with her in less than a minute. Sarah had a new home and would have a new life as a student at Ohio University. I headed back to Seattle.
It was all I could do. I’d turned down the sexual favors of a desperate girl and helped her start over.
Of course, I never told my wife about that.
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