Chapter 8- How Do You Start A Fire When There's Nothing To Burn?
No reviews this time cries oh well, we're all busy so whatever. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I woke up for the second morning in a row with unfamiliar arms around me. This time, however, there were no feelings of satisfaction or warmth. In fact, there were no feelings whatsoever. There was emptiness and hollowness. There was a distinct sense of unfeeling, uncaring. I turned my head to the side. Henry and I were both still naked, and his body was clasped around mine. I sighed, knowing that I didn't care. The part of my life where I cared, where I felt-it was over.
"And she awakens," said Henry.
"Yeah, I awaken alright." I said, not recognizing the sound of my own voice.
"I really enjoyed last night Maureen," he purred, "I know you weren't entirely receptive at first, but I knew you'd come around."
I lay there mutely. Words would not come, and I didn't trust myself to speak. Henry fell silent and that gave me the silence I needed to collect my thoughts. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing left to me. I was nothing; I had nothing. Little did I know that it would sooner lead to problems bigger than I expected and a life devoid of anything except lies and drama. Suddenly, Henry snored loudly, and I realized he had fallen asleep again. Slowly, I detached myself from him, and I got up. I went to the living room where my bags still sat where they were last night-on the chair. I grabbed my robe, put it on and then quickly left the apartment. I ran up the two flights of stairs to my apartment, and let myself in. it was eleven-thirty, and I knew I should probably get down to the Eleventh Street Lot soon. I showered, did my hair and makeup, and put on a pair of jeans and a tube top. Then, I grabbed a monologue book, my purse, and left the apartment.
I walked down to the Eleventh Street Lot where the auditions were in full swing. There were about two hundred people there and I took a number from a woman standing by the entrance. I sat down on one of the plastic chairs that had been set up around the lot.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" asked a tall, not-so-good-looking man standing over me.
"Oh, no, not at all." I said, taking my purse off the chair in question.
The man sat down next to me and stuck out his hand.
"Benjamin Coffin."
I shook his hand and replied, "Maureen Johnson."
"Well, Maureen, are you here for the audition?"
"Isn't everyone?"
"Not me. I'm here looking for someone. See, not everyone who auditions gets in, and there are bound to be plenty of talented people here who won't make it. I give these people work."
"Are you a casting agent?"
"Well, no, but my friend and roomie, Mark Cohen, is looking for someone to be in an independent film he's trying to sell. No one has been interested so far because there's no guarantee that the film will go anywhere."
"Number two hundred and one!" someone called.
"Oops," I said, "That's me! Good luck finding someone for your friend!"
"Good luck, or, break a leg rather, with your audition." Benjamin replied sincerely.
"Thanks." I said, and then approached the raised platform that served as a stage in the front of the lot. I went up to the director sitting at a table there and started to talk, but got cut off by his abrupt, no-nonsense attitude.
"Name?" he asked.
"Maureen Johnson."
"Experience?"
"Well, I was the star of the drama club in high school, and."
"So was everyone else, hon. Age?"
"Twenty-one."
'Go ahead and do your monologue."
I got on the platform and did my best. I did a monologue about a woman whose husband had just died and was dealing with her grief. After I was done, the director looked at me.
"Do you have a job, Miss Johnson?"
"No," I answered.
"First rehearsal is Friday at six o'clock in the evening. Be there or you're considered out of the troupe," he said.
"Oh my God? Really? Thank you so." I started.
"Next!" barked the director.
I walked away triumphant and glowing, feeling better than I ever had. If there was one thing I could feel good about myself, it was my talent as an actress. I was practically skipping on my way home.that was, until, I reached my apartment. There was a note taped to my door, and flowers lying on the ground near my mail slot. The flowers were roses and there was a note inside of them. I read the note on the door. It said:
"You paid it all off. See you next month, same time, same place." ~Henry
I wasn't sure how to react to that. I wasn't happy about it, but what else was there? What kind of existence was there besides the one I had decided to live? On top of that, Henry expected me back next month. It was his way of control, his way of domination. And me, being the whore that I was, had no way to counter it. I bent over and picked up the flowers. They were the most beautiful roses I had ever seen. I picked the note out of it and opened it. It read:
"Maureen-
Hopefully, I didn't freak you out last night. These are for the audition- break a leg! I'll come by later on tonight to see you" ~Roger
I smiled at this-he was so sweet!
But so pathetic, I tried to convince myself. He's practically drooling.
YOU'RE pathetic, you whore, I practically screamed inside my head.
I steeled my will, determined not to give in to myself. I just didn't care. I went inside the apartment, taking the flowers and the notes with me. I tossed the notes in the trash and the flowers on my dressing table, and then sat down. Last night.had been crazy, to say the very least. It was like a demon had taken me over. It seemed, however, that I didn't care of this demon stayed. Sighing, I decided that a nap would be helpful. I needed sleep badly. So, I turned over and slept. I woke up three hours later to the sounds of someone pounding on the door. I rolled over and called out groggily,
"Who is it?"
"It's Roger."
"Come in," I called.
Roger opened the door and sat down at the edge of my bed. I sat up and said excitedly,
"I got a spot in the troupe!"
Roger reached over and hugged warmly and replied, "Maureen, that's fantastic! I told you it'd be fine!"
"No, you didn't!" I contradicted.
He laughed and said, "No, my little drama queen, you're right-damn you!"
I mentally froze at the word "my". I was his drama queen?
"Your drama queen?' I stammered.
Roger was silent, then said, and "Well.here's hoping- you know how I feel about you."
"After less than a week," I countered.
"I know, I know. Listen, if you don't want me around, that's fine, but at least have the balls to."
I looked at him and listened to him talk without really hearing. I knew I liked him, no matter how much I lied to myself. But could I really risk it? Could I risk having him find out about the lifestyle I led? The whoring, the drama, the self deprecation-was it worth it? But as I looked into his eyes and saw there everything I had waited forever to see, it all became my undoing.
I put a gentle finger on his lips and shushed him. Then, I pulled gently on the silver chain he was wearing, pulling him toward me. Our lips hovered above each other and I whispered,
"Shush, my aspiring rock star."
Then I kissed him.
And where I should have felt passion and fire, I felt nothing-for how can you start a fire when there's nothing to burn?
No reviews this time cries oh well, we're all busy so whatever. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I woke up for the second morning in a row with unfamiliar arms around me. This time, however, there were no feelings of satisfaction or warmth. In fact, there were no feelings whatsoever. There was emptiness and hollowness. There was a distinct sense of unfeeling, uncaring. I turned my head to the side. Henry and I were both still naked, and his body was clasped around mine. I sighed, knowing that I didn't care. The part of my life where I cared, where I felt-it was over.
"And she awakens," said Henry.
"Yeah, I awaken alright." I said, not recognizing the sound of my own voice.
"I really enjoyed last night Maureen," he purred, "I know you weren't entirely receptive at first, but I knew you'd come around."
I lay there mutely. Words would not come, and I didn't trust myself to speak. Henry fell silent and that gave me the silence I needed to collect my thoughts. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing left to me. I was nothing; I had nothing. Little did I know that it would sooner lead to problems bigger than I expected and a life devoid of anything except lies and drama. Suddenly, Henry snored loudly, and I realized he had fallen asleep again. Slowly, I detached myself from him, and I got up. I went to the living room where my bags still sat where they were last night-on the chair. I grabbed my robe, put it on and then quickly left the apartment. I ran up the two flights of stairs to my apartment, and let myself in. it was eleven-thirty, and I knew I should probably get down to the Eleventh Street Lot soon. I showered, did my hair and makeup, and put on a pair of jeans and a tube top. Then, I grabbed a monologue book, my purse, and left the apartment.
I walked down to the Eleventh Street Lot where the auditions were in full swing. There were about two hundred people there and I took a number from a woman standing by the entrance. I sat down on one of the plastic chairs that had been set up around the lot.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" asked a tall, not-so-good-looking man standing over me.
"Oh, no, not at all." I said, taking my purse off the chair in question.
The man sat down next to me and stuck out his hand.
"Benjamin Coffin."
I shook his hand and replied, "Maureen Johnson."
"Well, Maureen, are you here for the audition?"
"Isn't everyone?"
"Not me. I'm here looking for someone. See, not everyone who auditions gets in, and there are bound to be plenty of talented people here who won't make it. I give these people work."
"Are you a casting agent?"
"Well, no, but my friend and roomie, Mark Cohen, is looking for someone to be in an independent film he's trying to sell. No one has been interested so far because there's no guarantee that the film will go anywhere."
"Number two hundred and one!" someone called.
"Oops," I said, "That's me! Good luck finding someone for your friend!"
"Good luck, or, break a leg rather, with your audition." Benjamin replied sincerely.
"Thanks." I said, and then approached the raised platform that served as a stage in the front of the lot. I went up to the director sitting at a table there and started to talk, but got cut off by his abrupt, no-nonsense attitude.
"Name?" he asked.
"Maureen Johnson."
"Experience?"
"Well, I was the star of the drama club in high school, and."
"So was everyone else, hon. Age?"
"Twenty-one."
'Go ahead and do your monologue."
I got on the platform and did my best. I did a monologue about a woman whose husband had just died and was dealing with her grief. After I was done, the director looked at me.
"Do you have a job, Miss Johnson?"
"No," I answered.
"First rehearsal is Friday at six o'clock in the evening. Be there or you're considered out of the troupe," he said.
"Oh my God? Really? Thank you so." I started.
"Next!" barked the director.
I walked away triumphant and glowing, feeling better than I ever had. If there was one thing I could feel good about myself, it was my talent as an actress. I was practically skipping on my way home.that was, until, I reached my apartment. There was a note taped to my door, and flowers lying on the ground near my mail slot. The flowers were roses and there was a note inside of them. I read the note on the door. It said:
"You paid it all off. See you next month, same time, same place." ~Henry
I wasn't sure how to react to that. I wasn't happy about it, but what else was there? What kind of existence was there besides the one I had decided to live? On top of that, Henry expected me back next month. It was his way of control, his way of domination. And me, being the whore that I was, had no way to counter it. I bent over and picked up the flowers. They were the most beautiful roses I had ever seen. I picked the note out of it and opened it. It read:
"Maureen-
Hopefully, I didn't freak you out last night. These are for the audition- break a leg! I'll come by later on tonight to see you" ~Roger
I smiled at this-he was so sweet!
But so pathetic, I tried to convince myself. He's practically drooling.
YOU'RE pathetic, you whore, I practically screamed inside my head.
I steeled my will, determined not to give in to myself. I just didn't care. I went inside the apartment, taking the flowers and the notes with me. I tossed the notes in the trash and the flowers on my dressing table, and then sat down. Last night.had been crazy, to say the very least. It was like a demon had taken me over. It seemed, however, that I didn't care of this demon stayed. Sighing, I decided that a nap would be helpful. I needed sleep badly. So, I turned over and slept. I woke up three hours later to the sounds of someone pounding on the door. I rolled over and called out groggily,
"Who is it?"
"It's Roger."
"Come in," I called.
Roger opened the door and sat down at the edge of my bed. I sat up and said excitedly,
"I got a spot in the troupe!"
Roger reached over and hugged warmly and replied, "Maureen, that's fantastic! I told you it'd be fine!"
"No, you didn't!" I contradicted.
He laughed and said, "No, my little drama queen, you're right-damn you!"
I mentally froze at the word "my". I was his drama queen?
"Your drama queen?' I stammered.
Roger was silent, then said, and "Well.here's hoping- you know how I feel about you."
"After less than a week," I countered.
"I know, I know. Listen, if you don't want me around, that's fine, but at least have the balls to."
I looked at him and listened to him talk without really hearing. I knew I liked him, no matter how much I lied to myself. But could I really risk it? Could I risk having him find out about the lifestyle I led? The whoring, the drama, the self deprecation-was it worth it? But as I looked into his eyes and saw there everything I had waited forever to see, it all became my undoing.
I put a gentle finger on his lips and shushed him. Then, I pulled gently on the silver chain he was wearing, pulling him toward me. Our lips hovered above each other and I whispered,
"Shush, my aspiring rock star."
Then I kissed him.
And where I should have felt passion and fire, I felt nothing-for how can you start a fire when there's nothing to burn?