Marian

      So cold,so cold today! Jeez!  What goin' on? It's that global warrin' stuff they're talkin' about on the news alla time at the Center. That's what it is! That global warrin' stuff, Marian mumbled to her self as she placed her large light blue straw hat on her head, just so.  She had a date to meet at the Center for the $1.50  lunch, and wanted to look the best she could.  So she took all the time she needed to make sure the favorite hat was at just the right angle to frame her face, and cover the bare spot in the wig she had chosen for this special occasion.
      Manny may not be much, she thought to herself, but beggars cannot be choosers! And she laughed loudly out loud to no one in particular, since she was alone in her SRO little cubby of an apartment.  It was that same laugh that so startled passersby whenever her internal dialogs got a little too much to contain, as she strolled along the streets of San Francisco, from one appointment to another.  She knew exactly why she was laughing - there was, after all, so much to laugh about - but no one else would have a clue, so the sharp and loud laughter would often startle people walking near her.  Sometimes, she noticed their feet even slightly left the ground, they were so surprised.  This made her laugh even more, though she'd try to tone it down, so they wouldn't know that she knew. That she saw what fools they were.  Marian had little patience for fools.
      Marian lived in that comfortable world of her own pretty much all the time now, though she would every so often peek out of it and engage in the world around her when something interesting caught her eye or her ear. In the case of Manny , however, it was his smell that caught her nose.  He had doused himself heavily with a mens cologne that had piqued her memory and her curiosity, so she opened the rest of her solitary senses to him, just long enough to chat, make a date for today and give her the energy to plan for it it.  She was hoping that by spending more time with him, she'd be able to remember what his fragrance reminded her of, and she hoped he would wear the same cologne today.  It was just at the tip of her memory, but just wouldn't come clear. Today she hoped it would. It's why she allowed herself the rare indulgence of making the lunch date with Manny in the first place. She needed to remember.
      Marian looked at herself in the spotty, freckled mirror and gave herself tacit approval: the hat was just right. Wrong season, this light blue straw, she assessed, but winter in San Francisco is like Spring anyway, so what the hell? She gave a fleeting thought to the hundreds of homeless out there on there on the streets who came to San Francisco for the weather, and for a moment felt the age-old resentment she'd always felt about people taking advantage. Damn fools oughtta get jobs, that's what they need to do! But then she reminded herself of her need to have compassion for those less fortunate, and her resentment faded away. Marian was once upon a time an ardent follower of the Dharma Path, and even at this time in her disheveled life, her practice could penetrate her usual fog and influence her thinking.  She added an extra dab of lip color from the tube she'd found in the trash can outside her back door the day before, blessed her good fortune having found it, and picked up her bags. Don't want to be late! For my very important date!  For a moment, Marian totally forgot what she was doing, where she was going and why - this happened often to her, many times a day - but suddenly clicked back into knowing, and with a sigh of relief left her apartment, carefully locking the poor excuse for a lock behind her. Never can be too careful!


      She'd counted out her two dollars for the bus the night before, from her plastic Tupperware container under her bed, and vowing to replenish the eight quarters as soon as she could, she tied them in one of her mother's pretty hankies and slept with them under her pillow. They were now sitting securely in the corner of her large shopping bag, so she knew exactly how to find them when the bus rolled up. She could walk to the Center, but on this windy cold day did not want her wig to look bad , so she decided to take the bus instead.  It would also be easier on her legs. Not doin' too good these days these old pins. Hell of a city to end up in, with bad feet and legs. Marian had stopped climbing the hills of the city a while back.  And made sure her routes to the various food kitchens she frequented were on as much of the flat part of this city famous for its hills as she possibly could.  Hell of a thing, she thought.

      Standing at the bus stop on Van Ness, Marian was grateful when one of those little folding seats became vacant , and though she felt her large rear end overflowing the small seat, and her dress being too tight into the bargain, she was glad for the chance to sit.  Kids in San Francisco are so nice here, she thought, and once again blessed her good fortune at making this city her home. Back in the Apple I'd be standin' til I dropped dead!  Yeah, the kids are nice here. Actually, the young woman who left  the seat free was trying to get as far away from Marian as she could, as if the "bag-lady look" Marian sported was a communicable disease.  But, Marian, looking through her customary rose-colored glasses, saw only the up side: this thoughtful young person was offering her a chance to rest.  Something about "the kindness of strangers" passed through Marian's mind. A retired actress, Marian had played all the great Tennessee Williams roles, among others, and the many scripts she'd memorized were as much a part of her mental landscape as anything else.
      Marian's bright orange lips were sticky with the old make-up, and her eyebrows, thickly drawn in, were slightly above where any normal brows would be. Her light blue polyester straw hat , with its extremely large curvy brim was perched atop her wigged head like a bird in flight, but nonetheless secure there. Her handsome face, with its large brown eyes, was pink with a favorite rouge, and her false teeth, a bit too large for her mouth, were clean and sparkling. She always saw to that.  The blue flowered rayon dress, tight across her breasts and stomach, encased her thickening legs and hips in far too little cloth to keep the wind out, but her full slip and two pairs of panty hose helped keep her warm. She'd been able to find two pairs of hose that had runs in different places, so she was grateful for that too. So much to be grateful for, really, Marian thought, as the bus pulled up to the stop. Oh, that's the nice lady driver! Oh goody! And Marian knew her two dollars were safe for another day: this driver never made her pay.  She flashed the woman at the wheel a large smile with her clean bright plastic teeth. And received a smile in return, as the driver place her small dark hand over the cash box, letting Marian sit for free.  This really is the best place to live!  I am so lucky! And she placed herself carefully in the one empty seat remaining between two elderly passengers.

      Suddenly, Marina felt a slight pinch in her toes. Aw, hell! Damned flip-flops! I knew I should 'a worn real shoes!  Marian considered her feet and toes one of her best features, despite the pain they brought her, so for this special date, she'd opted to wear her favorite summertime flip-flops, the ones with the sparkly blue thongs that went between her toes.  She loved wearing these in the summer time, and they matched her dress perfectly. The problem of course were the two pairs of panty hose she'd had to wear for warmth: cramming the sparkly thongs between her big toe and her second toe on each foot,  against the very resistant netting of two pairs of pantyhose was difficult, but by letting the panty part of the rigging come down perilously low on her hips, she managed to get the flip-flops on firmly between the toes, at last!  Now, however, not only were the toes protesting (she probably should have cut her toenails first), but her panty hose were in grave danger of falling all the way down below her ankles when she finally had to stand up.
      Damn! Aw well, I'll worry about that when we get there. Right now, I've got a seat, and I'll ignore the pinching. I've felt worse, God knows!  And she gave a little chuckle. Marian had the marvelous ability to be in the moments of her life, and ignore whatever unpleasantness tried to push its way in. So, she placed a pleasant smile on her painted face, tilted her head back so her fine profile was framed well against the pale blue straw, and looked forward through the wide front windows of the city bus.  Her lunch date awaited, come falling panty hose or no, and she looked forward to remembering what his cologne reminded her of:  a mystery, and a good warm meal lay ahead.

Marietta

     "So, now we begin!", continued Leonard, our producer. "After the required Actors Equity business meeting, rehearsals will get underway with a full company read-through, Sam playing his music, and Carl, in his own special way, singing the words." The company laughed warmly, knowing what notoriously bad singers lyricists always were. " But first, let me introduce you to the person who will captain our ship across Oceans - more laughter from the company at his clever use of the show's name - a woman whose work on special movies like Around the Corner and Avenue A , proved her to be , in our view,  the perfect and necessary director for our show. A woman of vision and sensitivity, our directress, Marietta Braceley!" And in she strode, from the hallway, where she had obviously been awaiting her entrance.
      Why she had not been in the room with the company, as part of the show's earliest "family building" moments? Was the grand entrance her idea or Lionel's? What purpose did it serve?  To "up her ante" with us? To make her seem more powerful, more important?
      As the company broke into applause, I looked over at Stanley, our stage manager, who was also looking at me with a slight grimace, as he lifted his eyebrows and subtly pointed his thumb in Marietta's direction, raising his eyes upward as if to say "get a load of her". I silently agreed and knew at once where Stanley stood. No one gets on Stanley's bad side until proven absolutely guilty, and clearly, the jury was already in on Marietta Braceley. Her entrance certainly made me feel uncomfortable. I thought "What a dumb thing for her to do."
       But , there she was, our leader, hopefully fearless, and our primary collaborator, the person whose concept of the show and ability to inspire would mold us all, willingly, into one sensitive communicating performance unit. Her place in the scheme of things was more important than anyone else's now that the show was in rehearsal, and I could sense the roomful of performers leaning forward, as flowers lean toward the sun. We were in her hands now.
     Marietta Braceley, tall and slender in a bony way, but somewhat thick around the hips, at least in the gray polyester slacks she wore, seemed a woman who would never wear a dress or skirt. She'd feel her ankles would be too exposed, too vulnerable.  At least that is the odd thought that crossed my mind as I got my first look at her.  Her hair was a black-gray frizzy halo of '60's vintage, and her face was long, strong-jawed and pale. Her photochromic aviator glasses grew darker in the brightly sunlit rehearsal room, and I made a silent bet with myself that she would never be without them, and that we would never see her eyes. Turns out I was right. Meanwhile, her blouse was in no way stylish or up to date, with its rounded little collar and small short puffy sleeves, and her too-short pants legs were met at the ankle by frilly-topped white anklets, which seemed to be inching down into her spanking brand new white Reboks. Her pierced ears had what looked like little bears dangling from them, and we were soon to learn that her earrings always kept fashion pace with her socks . I remember thinking she must have had a young daughter who shopped for all her clothes.
      This tall, angular woman seemed uncomfortable in front of us, uncomfortable in those pants, that blouse, those earrings, but who could blame her? With a five million dollar Broadway musical on my hands, no matter what I was wearing, I would have felt uncomfortable too. She took a very deep breath, and opened her mouth to speak.

Miranda

      She was short, fat, with rolls of flesh that jiggled when she laughed and a jowly face that was broad and greasy with summer sweat. Her light brown face was made even shinier by the huge splashes of garish red make-up she'd unskillfully applied. I couldn't tell where her real eyebrows were because she had plucked them to total bareness and had drawn a thin ,dark pencil line hight above the eye sockets. The sweat had smeared one of the pencil lines into an upward expression of smudged surprise.

      Her neck was bulging with two rolls of fat and dark creases of dirt separated them, even when she threw her head back in a gale of laughter, spreading her large magenta lips into a wide smile. Her teeth were not good. Yellow, bits of whatever she had been eating stuck between them.

      This grotesque, uncomfortable looking Puerto Rican woman, who was maybe forty-five years old, might once have been an actress on one of those Spanish-language stations that abound on cable networks in New York City. Every gesture, as she spoke to her companion on the humid subway platform, was too large, every laugh too pointed and loud. It was that laugh, and her companion's loud "Oh, Miranda!!" in response,  that had attracted my attention , and then I couldn't tear my eyes away from her grandiose and dramatic movements. Miranda was utterly fascinating in her ugliness and seeming discomfort, with her too-tight flowered dress, its stained underarms and the sandals she wore that cut into her chubby feet. Even her toenails seemed painfully painted, with a screamingly bright orange polish that looked like it had been on those toenails too long.

      I marveled that she could have even reached her toes to paint them, her stomach was so big, but the polish looked so old, it occurred to me she may have applied it before she got fat. And then she looked in my direction, and her small , sparkling eyes fixed directly onto mine, and I knew she knew I was staring at her. I managed a weak smile, which she greeted with a small smirk of disdain, and I knew she also knew how harshly I was judging her. Grateful that the subway arrived at that moment, I stepped onto it and felt the relief of its coolness, reminding myself of where I was going: downtown to an important rehearsal studio where I knew I'd be meeting and working with "my kind" of people. When an actor begins a new show, I believe he also begins a new family and, at the very least, a new place for his soul to live begins to be built and furnished. If all goes well, a new home is created for both actor and audience,and I felt confident that this would occur on this new project.  

     The doors opened at my 14th Street stop, and gathering my things, I made my way to the opening doors, dreading the heat that would slap me the moment i left the car, but excited to get to rehearsal. Rushing toward the stairs, the Puerto Rican woman was all but gone from my mind, until I heard, behind me, her loud laugh , and her friend's "Oh, Miranda!" And I was thinking about her toenails, as I pushed open the rehearsal hall doors.