Just practicing, Part 4

This fictional account contains adult language and themes.  If such language
and themes offend you, please do not read further.  The persons and events
described in this work are purely fictional.  Any similarity to actual
persons or events is strictly coincidental.  Copyright 2001 by SSTORYMAN.
All rights reserved.  Permission is hereby granted to reproduce this story in
any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no
financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person
reproducing it.

JUST PRACTICING

4.	The Play's The Thing.

   Megan sat fretting backstage.  She always felt nervous before walking out
on the stage.  No matter how many rehearsals they had, no matter how many
plays she was in, she always had butterflies in her stomach waiting for the
curtain to open.  "Tonight I have to be Harriet Ginsburg, feminist activist.
It's 1965 and I am Harriet Ginsburg," she silently repeated.  She looked out
onto the dark stage from the wings.  The curtain was till closed.  She sighed
and slightly changed her mantra.  "I'm Harriet Ginsburg," she repeated
silently.  "I'm a smoker."

   The curtain opened.  The lights came on.  She took a deep breath and
walked out onto the stage.

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   Opening night was a smashing success.  The audience laughed at the comedic
scenes, and the rest of the time quietly followed the dramatic unfolding of
Harriet Ginsburg's career.  There were a few minor missed cues and blown
lines, but nothing anyone in the theater seats noticed.

   Megan's on-stage smoking was flawless.  She was nervous about it, but
thanks to relentless practicing she was able to do it like smoking was
completely second nature.  In some ways, of course, it had grown to be second
nature to walk and talk and interact while smoking.

   The scene in act three between Harriet and her sister Linda, brilliantly
played by Chelsea, was particularly powerful.  The two actors screamed at
each on stage, after Linda accused Harriet of being too radical, too
feminist.  Only Megan knew her extra fire came from her real life fury
towards Chelsea.  Her sense of betrayal, feeling like she'd been used,
energized her stage persona and made sparks fly between them realistically.

   The characters began to march on stage for the curtain call.  Megan waited
backstage.  The audience was standing and applauding enthusiastically.  She
took several deep breaths.  She'd be the last to walk onstage; she was the
leading lady.  She felt pride and a sense of accomplishment as the other
characters paraded out and reveled in the applause.  Yes, she'd done it, she
told herself.  She'd become Harriet Ginsburg.  Now was time for her reward,
her moment of recognition.  She put on a big smile and took several
commanding, assertive steps, carrying her out onto the stage and into the
bright lights.  As she did, the applause intensified.  Everyone was standing.
She smiled, waved, and led the cast in a final closing bow until the curtain
closed.

   Minutes later, friends and family came backstage to congratulate the
actors.  Megan saw her parents and waved as she walked towards them.  Her mom
was the first to speak.  She hugged her daughter enthusiastically.

   "Honey, you were marvelous.  My God!  You _were_ Harriet Ginsburg.  I
remember seeing film clips of her on TV.  You looked, sounded and acted just
like her.  We're so proud!"

   Her father, too, gave her a big hug.  "Meg, you amaze me!  Every time I
see you on stage, you're a different person.  The way you played Harriet
tonight was marvelous.  And the smoking thing!  You made it look so
believable.  How did you do that?"

   Her ear-to-ear grin broke.  She did not want to get into that!  "Well,
Dad, just by practicing, I guess.  One of the girls in the cast helped.
Chelsea Cook, the girl who played my sister?  She smokes, and she worked with
me on it."

   Mr. Ware shook his head.  "Well, all I can say is, everything you did on
stage tonight turned to gold, honey.  Congratulations.  And to think you're
still only a freshman!  You have a great career ahead of you here at
college!"

   Chelsea was making her way to the exit nearby in the crowd.  Megan
intercepted her before she could get away.  "Dad, Mom, I want you to meet
Chelsea Cook."

   Chelsea stopped and politely greeted Megan's family.

   "You were wonderful, Chelsea," Mrs. Ware raved.  "You girls were _so_ good
on stage together.  That scene in the last act was something else!  You
really seemed like you hated each other.  It was so realistic!"

   "Thanks," Chelsea nodded.  "We had fun doing it," she added, with a look
at Megan.

   "I understand you showed Megan how to smoke," Mr. Ware went on.  "I have
to say, Chelsea, I couldn't imagine how that would work.  But it was _so_
believable!  I mean, after watching the play, I almost would think that my
daughter smokes all the time!"  He laughed.

   Chelsea looked at Megan with a knowing smile.  "That's what acting is
about, Mr. Ware.  It's all about illusion.  Megan and I have grown quite
close.  We have lots in common now."  Her voice dripped with irony, but
neither of Megan's parents caught it.

   "We're glad, Chelsea.  It's _so_ nice to meet Megan's friends," Mrs. Ware
effused.

   The Wares wanted to go eat, but Megan begged off.  "I'm so tired.  Opening
night's a killer, you know.  I'm glad you came, though.  I know it was a long
drive for you today."

   "Honey, we wouldn't have missed it," her mom said.  "Can we take you to
breakfast tomorrow morning before we leave?  We want to be on the road by
nine."

   Megan thought.  "Okay.  I'll meet you at the Denny's restaurant on Front
Street at eight."

   "We'll come to your dorm and pick you up," her father nodded.  "We'd like
to see your room, and see Christi again, too."

   "No, that's okay," Megan retorted quickly.  "Christi sleeps late.  And
honest, you _don't_ want to see our dorm early on Saturday morning.  Friday
night's party night, you know.  It gets pretty gross on the floors, if you
know what I mean."

   Mrs. Ware nodded knowingly.  "Ah, yes.  We were in college once, too.
Okay, that's fine.  We'll see your room another time.  Tell Christi we're
sorry we won't get to see her again.  She did great in the play, too.  Walt,
let's get back to the motel.  Let Megan go get some rest."

   "Thanks, Mom.  Thanks, Dad.  Thanks for coming.  I'll see you in the
morning."

   As soon as they left, she sighed in relief.  She hated to admit it, but
she had a more important commitment.  The official cast party at Dr.
Lowdermilk's followed Saturday's performance, but Friday night the cast and
crew were having an unofficial get together after the show.  There'd be
laughing, talking, drinking and, undoubtedly, smoking.  She momentarily felt
post-performance let down.  It made her realize she felt like having another
cigarette at that moment.  It'd been only thirty minutes since her last one
on stage.  She sighed.  The cravings had become almost incessant.  But she
rationalized that _this_ was no time to deny herself.  After all, it was time
to celebrate!  There was nothing she'd rather do to celebrate than sit around
and talk and laugh and smoke with her friends in the cast and stage crew,
especially Mick.

   Congratulations kept pouring in from well-wishers, but Megan excused
herself to change her clothes, remove her makeup, and return her hair to its
normal condition.  Adrenaline had energized her all day long, but now it'd
completely evaporated.  She suddenly felt very tired.

   Christi appeared, ready to party.  "Let's go.  Almost everyone's left
already."

   "I'm nearly ready, Christi."  Only her bra covered her torso.  She pulled
a light blue sweater over her head and looked at herself in the mirror.  She
looked good.  She wanted to look good, since Mick would be at the party.
"There.  Let's go."

   The roommates walked outside into a cool, spring evening.  It was past
eleven o'clock, but the campus was far from quiet.  After all, it was Friday
night.  Lots of parties were in progress.  Christi paused.

   "Hey, Megan, can you wait for me to light up a cigarette?" she asked
slyly.

   "Oh yeah, sure," she nodded and then paused.  That sounded good to her,
too.  "Hey, Christi!  Do you mind?  I think I'd like one as well."

   With a smug look, Christi gave her roommate a Marlboro Light 100.  They
both lit up, and in the process looked like women who, after a long wait,
truly enjoyed being able to smoke again.  Christi hadn't smoked since before
the show, so she was ready.  Megan had smoked on stage at the end of Act
Three.  But she, too, felt quite relieved to light up.

   Christi exhaled a thick plume of smoke after a hard, first drag.  "So,
Megan, tell me.  How was it smoking on stage in front of your parents?"

   Megan laughed, releasing bits of smoke from her lips.  "Well, it was weird
at first.  But then, almost right away, it felt natural; normal, really."
She tipped her head to release the rest of her inhale, in thick, blue-gray
smoke, into the night air.  "Yeah, it seemed completely normal."

   "It sure looked normal on stage.  So, I take it you're not quitting
tonight?"

   "No, Christi, I'm _not_ quitting tonight," she grinned.  "Maybe Sunday
afternoon, but definitely not tonight!"  She raised her cigarette for another
hit.  "God, that tastes good!  Since I'm having breakfast with my folks, I
can't smoke tomorrow morning till after breakfast.  But tonight, I'm
smoking."  She laughed and exhaled an endless stream in several successive
bursts.

   "Yeah, well, I'll say this.  You don't look like a girl who wants to
quit," Christi noted with obvious approval.  "Come on, Harriet Ginsburg,
let's get to that party!"

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   It was nine thirty Saturday morning.  Megan waved goodbye to her parents
as they drove out of the Denny's parking lot and headed back to their
hometown.

   The car turned the corner down the street.  As soon as it was out of
sight, Megan opened her purse to get her pack of Marlboro Lights 100's.
She'd been up since seven and still hadn't had her first cigarette.  But God,
she wanted it!  Mick's prediction was coming true.  It wouldn't be easy to
stop.  She was _so_ used to smoking first thing every morning, and she wanted
this one real bad!  It was as if she couldn't stop herself; but maybe she
didn't want to.  Either way, she had to satisfy her nicotine craving as fast
as possible.

   She stuck a cigarette in her mouth and lit up, still standing in front of
the Denny's.  She double-pumped to get that wonderful smoke, and the nicotine
it contained, into her famished body.  Smoke gushed from her nostrils as she
pulled on her cigarette a second time.

   "It's damned important, that first cigarette of the day, isn't it?
Nothing like it, is there?"

   She turned.  Standing in the doorway was Chelsea Cook!

   "Oh, hi, Chelsea."  She was surprised, but couldn't help smiling upon
seeing her nemesis.  Smoke cascaded from her mouth.  "What are _you_ doing
here at Denny's?"

   "Watching you," the blond girl smugly snorted.  "Brenda and I often come
here for breakfast on Saturdays.  We saw you in non-smoking with your folks.
You didn't notice us, I guess.  We were in smoking."  There was a devilish
grin on her lips as she said the last word.

   Brenda appeared.  She, too, smiled, seeing the freshman smoking.  "Hi,
Megan.  God, it's the pits when you can't smoke at breakfast, isn't it?"

   Megan cleared her throat.  "I know all about your despicable plan.  Mick
told me that you made me smoke too much for revenge, because I got Harriet's
role instead of you.  I suppose you were also the one who first suggested to
Dr. Lowdermilk that I should smoke in the play?"

   Chelsea grinned.  "I wish I'd been that smart.  No, Doc came up with that
one on his own.  But it was his idea that Brenda and I coach you.  So we
simply made sure that you did it good and properly.  And you smoked like a
champ last night, Megan.  It was damned impressive!"

   "And it sure does look like you enjoy smoking," Brenda sneered arrogantly.
"Or, are you still just practicing?"

   "Look, you should know, it won't work.  Sure, I am smoking right now.  But
I'll quit once the play's over tomorrow afternoon.  You think you're smart.
But don't underestimate me."

   "Oh, we'd never underestimate you, Megan," Chelsea laughed.  "But don't
_you_ underestimate the power of nicotine.  Let's see what happens.  I
predict you'll still be smoking next week, next month, and next year, too.
You want to be in the theater department?  Well, congrats, Megan.  Most of us
theater majors smoke.  We're just helping you fit in."

   Despite her anger, Megan lifted the cigarette to her lips for a hit.  "If
I do decide to keep smoking, it'll only be because _I_ want to."  Smoke mixed
with her words.  "But the fact that you two want me to do it might give me
just enough determination to quit!"

   Brenda laughed and got out her cigarettes.  "Oh come on, Megan.  Don't be
a hard-ass!  You know you like it.  It's obvious.  Look at how you're smoking
right now!  We did you a favor.  You wanted to be in the theater group, and
we helped you."  She lit up.  "By the way, good luck explaining all this to
your non-smoking parents.  They'll be thrilled to learn that their sweet
little freshman daughter is now hopelessly addicted to nicotine!"

   "Fuck you," Megan muttered, and she turned to walk away.

   "Hey, that can be arranged, too," Brenda called out with a last, rude
laugh.

   Megan stormed back to the dorm, mad at Chelsea and Brenda, and mad at
herself for smoking in front of them.  Distraught, she smoked furiously all
the way, lighting up a second cigarette before she reached the dormitory.

   Ordinarily Saturday was her study day.  Finals were looming.  The end of
the semester was almost upon her.  She'd neglected her classes because of
rehearsals every night.  She had to make some headway to get ready for exams.

   Fall term she studied for finals in the library.  It had fewer
distractions away than the dorm.  But now she decided to study in her room.
She told herself it was only because she felt more comfortable there.  But
the real reason was, she wanted to keep smoking!

   Settling in at her desk, she lit another cigarette and opened her Econ
book.  She paused.  Damn!  Chelsea and Brenda were right.  She _did_ like
smoking too much!  They knew this would happen to her; and it had.  She took
a long drag.  The problem was, she didn't have the willpower to stop.  All
morning she lit up every twenty minutes, smoking while she read her Econ
book.  It did relax her.  She seemed better able to concentrate on her
studying.

   Christi came back at noon, and they went to the dining hall for lunch.
They sat in the smoking section, their new custom, and talked and smoked,
conversing about the last night's performance.  Then it was time to get back
to books.  They returned to the dorm and studied together.  Megan lit up more
often with Christi smoking in the room.  For that matter, Christi seemed to
be smoking more, too.

   By four o'clock Megan's pack was empty.  She'd opened it at the party the
night before, right before leaving.  Now it was empty.  It meant she smoked a
whole pack in less than twenty-four hours.  And the afternoon was far from
over.  She wasn't cutting back; she was accelerating!  But she didn't have
the willpower to stop now.  She went to the cupboard where they kept their
carton, to get a new pack.

   "Hey, Christi, there's only two packs left," she announced, taking one.
"Didn't we just buy this carton?"

   "Uh, yeah, we did, on Tuesday," her roommate confirmed.  "What did you
expect?  We've both been smoking a pack a day.  At that rate a carton doesn't
last long, Megan."

   "God!  I guess not."  She shrugged and tore off the cellophane.  She
tapped it on her wrist, forcing several all-white filters to peek out from
inside.  She got a solitary cigarette between her fingertips and slowly
extracted it.  She put it in her lips.  "Last night at the party I opened a
fresh pack," she explained, clicking her lighter.  She touched the flame to
the tobacco end of her cigarette.  "I guess I've been smoking today a lot
more than usual."

   Christi looked up.  "No shit!  That ashtray on your desk is spilling over.
All afternoon, all you've done is smoke.  You're not doing a very good job of
preparing to quit!"

   The frizzy brunette lifted her chin to exhale toward the ceiling.  "Oh
shut up," she pretended to complain.  "Smoking just seems to help me study
better for some reason."

   "Yeah.  Or maybe studying helps you smoke more," Christi retorted.
"Megan, give up this illusion about quitting after the last performance
tomorrow.  Look at you!  You just opened your second pack of the day.  No
one's making you do this.  You're smoking because you want to, for God's
sake.  You're not going to quit.  I told you I'm not quitting.  At this rate,
how long do you think you'll last if you try to give it up?  Thirty minutes?
An hour, tops?  Get real!"

   "I don't know," she whined.  "But it pisses me off that Chelsea tricked
me.  I don't want her to have the satisfaction of winning.  It'll be tough,
but I still think I can do it.  I'll quit."

   "Oh, I agree you _could_ quit," Christi nodded.  "I just don't think
you'll want to."

   "Well, we'll see," Megan sighed, raising the cigarette to her lips again.
"We'll see."

   The second performance that evening went even better than opening night.
With first night jitters out of the way, the cast cruised effortlessly
through the show without losing the energy that made it work the first night.
And Megan's smoking was flawless.  She _felt_ like Harriet Ginsburg on stage.
Apparently the audience also thought so.  Another standing ovation awaited
her when she returned to the stage for her curtain call at the end of the
performance.

   Backstage she was again besieged by well-wishers.  Faculty and students
crowded around, offering their congratulations.  She soaked up the praise.
This was why she loved the theater.  She loved doing a great job and basking
in the glory!

   As the crowd began to thin out, Dr. Lowdermilk approached.  She was still
in costume, getting ready to go and remove her makeup.

   "Wait, Megan, there's someone here I want you to meet."

   She looked up and almost fainted.  A tall, slender, graying woman stood
beside her professor.  "Oh my God," Megan gasped.  "Oh my God!"

   "Yes, Megan, I'd like you to meet Harriet Ginsburg.  The _real_ Harriet
Ginsburg."

   The older woman graciously held out her hand.  "It's a pleasure to meet
you, Megan.  You did a marvelous job portraying me tonight.  I mean it."

   "Oh my God," she said a third time.  "Ms. Ginsburg!  I can't believe it.
What are you doing here?  I mean, this is great!"

   Dr. Lowdermilk smiled.  "I didn't tell you Harriet was coming.  A couple
months ago I emailed her to tell her we were doing 'Reckless' for our spring
play.  At the last minute she rearranged her schedule to join us.  If you'd
known she was coming, I feared you'd be scared shitless.  So I kept it quiet
from you and the rest of the cast.  But isn't this great?"

   Megan's hands were trembling violently.  "Yeah, no kidding, Doc.  Oh my
God, Ms. Ginsburg, this is such an honor.  You have no idea!  I've read your
books.  It was an honor to play one of the leading feminists of our time.
But it's a greater honor to meet you in person!"

   Harriet laughed.  "Cut the bullshit, dear.  I'm not comfortable being an
icon.  Lowdermilk here knows that.  Please, call me Harriet.  But I'd love to
talk with you about your performance tonight.  Would you mind going out for
coffee with me right now?"

   Megan gasped.  "Oh my God, I 'd love to.  Yeah, sure."  She paused.  "But
we have the cast party at Dr. Lowdermilk's house in a little while."

   "That's okay," he cut in.  "If Harriet wants to talk, by all means, go
with her.  We'll be partying for awhile.  You can stop by after you two are
done talking."

   The older woman beamed.  "Hey, Ken, I'd love to stop by your cast party
and spend some time with the students.  Would that be okay?"

   "Oh, Harriet, that'd be great, but I'm sure you have other things to do,"
protested Dr. Lowdermilk.  "You don't need to come."

   "Nonsense.  Ever since this play was first published, I've seen it
performed dozens of times on college campuses, including at NYU where I now
teach.  But I tell you this, and I mean it.  I've never seen 'Reckless' done
better."  She smiled at Megan.  "And I've never seen anyone play me more
effectively than you did tonight, my dear."

   Megan felt weak in the knees.  She feared she'd pass out.  She managed to
steady herself on the edge of a table.  "God, thanks," she muttered.
"Really.  Thanks so much!  You have no idea how much that means, coming from
you."

   Dr. Lowdermilk looked at his watch.  "If you're going out for coffee,
Megan, you should change.  But before you do, let me get a picture of you and
Harriet."  He took a 35 mm camera from his coat pocket.  "Stand on the stage.
This picture will go into the theater department archives, Harriet!"

   He took several shots of them together on stage.  Then Harriet excused
herself.  She asked Megan to meet her by the back door of the theater
building in ten minutes.  Megan hurried to the dressing room to change.

   Christi was the first to intercept her.  "Shit, Megan!  Do you believe
it?"

   "No," the dazed actress breathlessly confessed.  "My God!  I just met
Harriet Ginsburg!  I even had my picture taken with her.  And now I'm going
out with her for coffee, all by myself!"

   "It is _so_ cool," Christi sighed.  "I shook her hand.  She introduced
herself to everyone in the cast.  She seems so ... so normal, so ordinary."

   "I guess she _is_ normal," Megan smiled, unbuttoning her blouse and
shedding her slacks.  "She's just a college professor. Of course, she's also
one of the leading feminists of the last thirty years."

   "Tell me everything she says," Christi urged.  "I mean, everything!  I
want to hear it all."

   Megan grinned.  "Oh, don't worry.  You won't be able to stop me from
talking about this for the entire rest of the semester; maybe for the rest of
my life!"

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