Thank You for Ten: Short Fiction About a Little Theater Page 9

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  With only 15 minutes left before curtain, Jeannette told herself it was probably time for her to put on the rest of her make up. She didn't make her first appearance on stage until about a half an hour after the show started, but she'd had to rush the last time. By now, she'd pinned her hair up, and had gotten into her ghost costume before planting herself once again in the dilapidated easy chair in the green room she'd claimed as her own each night. Her claims were easily won, as nobody else wanted anything to do with the chair.

  It was a horrid thing. Peeling. Taped in a few places. It creaked a bit whenever she moved in it. A few people theorized the noise meant the chair would break at any moment. She was inclined to agree, but couldn't bring herself to care; it was without a doubt the most comfortable place to sit in the entire green room. It may have even be more comfortable than anything at the Prescott.

  "Can somebody help me with this thing, please? I can't get my arm around far enough."

  A teen actress, attempting to zip her own clumsy faux-Victorian dress was working herself into a bit of a panic. Jeanette pulled herself out of her chair. "Over here, babe, let me take a look."

  The teen scooted over to her, and turned her back to Jeannette.

  "That's a weird clasp, isn't it?" she asked the teen.

  "I know right?" the teen said. "I wasn't even sure how it worked when it was hanging on the rack."

  Jeannette fiddled with the small apparatus until she finally got things going. "Looks to me like it was a lazy repair at some point that nobody corrected. There," Jeannette stepped back. "you're set. Might see if the costume lady can do something about that. If not, look for me each night. I'll be in that chair probably. Love that chair."

  The teen smiled, thanked her and went off.

  "Ten minutes until curtain everyone," the stage manager called out to the crowded green room. "That's ten."

  Jeannette, like all of the other self-respecting actors in the green room thanked the stage manager for the warning with "Thank you for ten." Afterwards, many people began moving around a bit faster. Jeannette merely looked over at her chair and sighed. She made her way to the back of the green room and through a swinging door that led to the dressing rooms. She hummed Jingle Bells and dodged people in a greater hurry than herself as she did so.

  She found the ladies dressing room almost full, with one seat available in front of the mirrors. She thought about waiting a few more minutes, but decided she'd probably frittered away more time than she should have already. She sat down, reached for her make-up, and smiled at the nice woman who played Mrs. Cratchit. Then she began her transformation.

  Gradually, as Jeanette's face became whiter through each application, the dressing room became less crowded. One by one the people needed in the first few scenes flew out of the room. By the time Jeannette had painted her nose, the stage manager had given the five-minute warning. By the time the stage-manager called for places, Jeannette was fully made up, and wearing her long, blonde Ghost of Christmas Past wig.

  She had half an hour or so before she entered. She regretted getting ready as early as she had. She sat for a few minutes listening to the actors on stage through the tiny speaker above the door of the dressing room. (She wished Prescott had those things.) She yawned and stood up to leave. As she did, something caught her eye under all of the make up, water bottles, candy and other items crammed onto the dressing room counter. She thought it was just a phone at first, but it looked too big. She moved a few papers and saw it was a video game. One of the old time video games. Self contained, pocket sized. Not connected with a phone at all.

  "Football Fury," she said out loud. She pressed the button, and smiled at the archaic beeping and music that issued forth from the device. She fumbled with the buttons on the small control pad for a few moments. By the time Scrooge had told his nephew to go away, Jeannette was completing a pass up the middle, and found herself on the 30 yard line. She thought about taking the game out to her chair in the green room, but it didn't feel right to take someone else's stuff out of the dressing room. It didn't even feel right to be playing it. But she did, and rather enjoyed doing so. Carefully so as not to damage her costume, she stretched her legs across an empty chair next to her, and decided to go with a running play on third and two.

  She wouldn't get a whole game in before she had to be on stage. Maybe a half. She decided that if she was leading at halftime, that would count as a win under these conditions.