And us, what are we then?
Tech #1:
Support staff.
So Ballerina Mouse keeps on trying, and the years go by in a shower of mockery from her fellow dancers, who are, without exception, younger than she is. At recitals it becomes her job to hand out programs and staff the punch table, and although Mme. Suzette keeps promising Ballerina Mouse she will be cast in the very next recital, it never seems to happen.
Then one day, after a particularly hard practice session after which her fellow dancers squirt her with the sticky liquid left in the bottoms of their energy drink cups, pretending they are helping her cool off, Ballerina Mouse leaves the studio but instead of going home, walks straight to a gun store, where. .
Stop it, Heather. Absolutely not.
XII
Episode One, The Burrow, Scene Two
HEATHER is alone in the kitchen. We watch her put groceries away, a process that involves opening and shutting the cabinet doors many times over. Clearly this is a young woman who struggles to find the right places for things. Finally, she sits down with an arrowroot cracker, strawberry jam, and a mug of Earl Grey tea.
Heather:
I don’t know when it was I lost my nerve, exactly. Maybe it was going out on auditions at all hours of the night and day, every day of the week, including weekends, and, after each of them, hearing, “We’ll call you,” or “Hey, honey, I might have a part for you in the future, but meanwhile how’d you like to go out for a little drink.” Or “Sorry, too tall,” or “too short,” or “too young,” or “too thin.” And lately I’ve been thinking I should get out of this weird place because, honestly, it’s been forever since I saw the sun, but in point of fact, what good did the sun ever do me in the past? Anyway, no matter where I go, I’ll need somewhere to live, and a job, too, so in the end I’d just have to come back here or somewhere like it, and get back on the phone again. Am I having a breakdown? It’s certainly possible, but how can I tell? I’ve never had one, so I don’t know the signs, and that makes me anxious all by itself. I’m not stupid; I’ve read how things can slip away from people — I think it’s happening to Madeline, too, though she’d never admit it — little by little and then, like swimmers, before they know it, they’re too far out to get back to shore, back to the spot on the beach where they left their blanket that is so far away they can’t even make it out. Help (softly). Help.
MADELINE walks in, wearing a blue bathrobe, provocatively open, and, on seeing HEATHER, closes it.
Madeline:
Hey, honey. You don’t look so great. How are you doing?
Heather:
I don’t know. Maybe not so good, I think.
Madeline:
Gee, that’s too bad. Do you want to talk about it? Me, I can hardly get any sleep these days. Something’s keeping me up, I don’t know what, but I don’t suppose the same things that are bothering me are bothering you. Excuse me for interfering, but you’re pretty; why don’t you just get yourself a boyfriend? I know the pickings are pretty slim around here, except for Jeffery, that is. And as far as that goes. . well, I don’t know. I used to date him once, and there’s something about him that’s special in a way. If you don’t snap him up I may well change my mind and take him back again myself.
MADELINE walks over to the refrigerator and looks in.
Madeline:
Say, do you mind if I do a little cooking while we talk? It calms me down, and maybe it will help you, too.
Heather:
You go right ahead.
Madeline:
Hmm. . beets and hamburger [she smells it] — still good — and onions. What can I make from that?
Heather:
I don’t know.
Madeline:
Wait! I’m thinking, maybe. . red hamburger hash!
Heather:
I’ve never heard of that.
Madeline:
So let’s you and I live dangerously. Let’s see what happens.
She starts chopping up the onions and beets, and puts them in a frying pan with a little oil. HEATHER watches for a while, then loses interest.
Heather:
Well, I’ve got to go. I’m expecting a phone call any minute.
Madeline:
What? Oh, sure honey. Don’t forget what I said about Jeffery. He’s pretty special.
HEATHER leaves, MADELINE continues stirring. VIKTOR walks in and sniffs the air.
Viktor:
Hey! Is that food I smell?
I’m getting rich, Viktor thinks, but not quite rich enough just yet. Still, a little rich anyway, and a person has to measure his life against something, so why not make it money? There’s love, of course, but how can a person tell if he’s ahead or behind in love? There’s health and all that goes with it, but that’s a one-way street, he knows; a person can hold back the water of that particular dam only so long, and then the water is going to win, is going to pour over the top, and if that person doesn’t pick up his camping gear and get the hell out of there he’ll be buried in a wall of mud. As for Madeline, well, she’s okay enough, and sometimes she sings crazy stuff to him, which he likes, but — hello — when Viktor gets out of here he won’t be taking her. Sorry, kid. Tough break.
Madeline is a survivor though, so Viktor’s not worried about her. Really, the guy Viktor feels bad for is the Duck Man because he was the one who stole Madeline from the Duck Man. But when he lets her go, maybe Duck Man can get her back. Fair enough. And if she thinks Duck Man is so great, she can have him, Viktor thinks. And does Viktor care? Not much. The mystery, if there is one, is why she ever left Jeffery.
I am such a pig.
I am such a pig.
I am such a pig.
I am such a pig, Viktor says to himself.
And oddly it feels good to say this, like waving to himself from across the street, seeing a sort of familiar stranger, a mirror image, but one that reflects a truth that seems irrefutable, a truth that, once having been recognized, allows the recognizer some considerable latitude of behavior. Yes, thank you, Viktor, Viktor says. You are right. You are such a pig. And happy as a pig in mud.
Then Ballerina Mouse has an operation, one that’s done by little mouse doctors and mouse nurses, who take tiny X-ray pictures and move things this way and that, and pretty soon they turn her foot around so it faces a different direction and everything is better. But of course then Ballerina Mouse has to start practicing with her newly redirected foot, learning everything over again, in part because she’s had so much downtime, what with her stay in the hospital and all, but also because some of the muscles she’s now using aren’t used to working in that direction at all, but in fact the opposite one, so it’s like starting from scratch.