An account

I am playing Witch #1 and <PERSON> (cross-gender casting) in a big amphitheater. Places is called and I am not even in costume. I miss my entrance and the stage manager takes over my role, reading from the script. Everyone gives me the freeze-out and I am mad at myself and everybody else. Next night, closing night, I have had so many fights with everybody that I lose my temper and refuse to perform. They pick someone who is younger, better trained, and brilliant. Serves me right. After the play ends, I send a text message to the screen where the final credits are rolling. I forget what it was, but it makes the audience laugh. I get onstage and do a brilliant monologue, feeing my way through the blocking and using all the aisles and balconies, fired up, beautifully. I get applause and I know I have earned it. I have felt the magic. Too late, though. I am leaving the theatre. Someone congratulates me and says, "Great job!" I reply, "Yeah - eventually," and smile faintly. She reassures me that I can act. I go home, exhausted, and see a rerun of Friends on TV. I remember why I love that show. Because I want to make people laugh. The great Shakespearean dramatic roles speak to my depths and purge me. But if I were <PERSON>, I could be a part of a cohesive, symmetrical and perfectly bonded cast - a family. And a pretty one. Sometimes that is just what I want. It feels restful.