A Facade of Love

Everything happens for certain reasons but some make you cry with excruciating pain. This was Corrine's pain. Vigorously, Corrine wiped the heavily applied makeup off her face with her laced sleeves and loosened the Victorian corset she had on, but the tight grip of failure remained. She stared hard at the dressing mirror in front of her, wondering if she would ever wipe away the mounting disappointments clouding her hopes. “I’ll never make it, will I?” she said in a stern tone— a tear racing down her fire-flushed cheeks, dropping to further scattered droplets on the dressing table. She reached for her family photograph behind the dressing mirror, which she had initially hidden there three years ago when she first arrived in New York City to begin working as an actress in Lucian’s Theater. “I’d bet they’d think I have made it big by now,” she thought, gently rubbing their faces in the photo with her fingertips and bursting into tears, sobbing. To her greatest shock, a roach flew across from the ceiling into her costume. Still in tears, she staggered all over the room in confusion trying to get the silly roach off her. She faltered clumsily out of the room, tripping against the door sill which completely ripped the dress she had on from bottom to top. “Get off me!” Corrine yelled, brushing the found roach off her bosoms. “Wait a minute! Where is the photograph? She recalled, bulging her eyeballs out in search of it. “Corinne! Corinne!” A familiar voice called out from the end of the passageway. “Oh! It’s her.” She muttered, sopping up her tears with the hem of her dress. A lanky silhouetted shadow approached Corinne, still calling out her name in a familiar voice. “Come on, get up," the familiar honeyed-voice said, pulling up Corinne to her feet. “Have you been crying? What’s the matter?” With her head down, she confessed, "I’m tired, Ophelia—I just want all these to stop. I…I don’t know how long I’ll continue like this.” She paused. “Things aren’t going so well as they should.” Ophelia’s expression turned sympathetic. “Come here,” she said, opening her arms for a hug. Corinne fell into the embrace, teary-eyed. “It’s been three years full of going for unreasonably tough auditions, being given the worst roles known to mankind to act, and here I am working in this dying old theater as an underpaid actress whose paycheck can barely pay off her rent!” she paused. “Reality is dawning on me, Ophelia. I just want to be a star actress. That’s why I moved from my hometown to New York. I can’t take any more of this nonsense.” “It’s gonna be okay. We’re in this together… and look, I don’t want to compete with your story but we all have our backstories and what drives us to be where we are or where we ought to be. It’s okay if you can’t take it anymore but remember how far you’ve come. You don’t want to sweep what you love so much under the rug, right?” “I’m simply tired of running in an endless circle.” Corinne said, pulling away from the hug. “I can’t find the photograph I had with me just now.” She said, realizing. “What photo?” Ophelia inquired with squinting eyes. “My family photograph.” “Ohh…,” She said browsing around to find it. “There it is. The photo!” “Where?” “On the door escutcheon,” Ophelia pinpointed, pulling it out from the fissure behind it. “Wow, you’ve got a nice-looking family,” She said, handing over the photo to Corinne after glancing at it. “Yeah. Thanks.” She accepted, blushing. “It’s just my mom and my little sister, you know.” “Mhm. That’s cute,” Ophelia remarked. “Aha! I just recalled why I came to see you—I’ve got good news!” Corinne’s eyes narrowed. “That is rare but go on.” Ophelia peered around suspiciously before she whispered the news, " I overheard the theater manager earlier today on a phone call with someone about an important guest arriving tonight. I couldn’t get the full memo but I heard it was an organization called “Renaissance” or something like that. They’re going to help revive this theater and give us roles that pay really well. Isn’t that awesome?! “Oh my! That’s exciting. Finally, a ray of hope!" Her high-pitched, excited voice echoed through the passageway as she felt a tingling sensation of purpose over her body in her chaotic-looking costume. “I wonder what their impression will be of this theater at first glance?” “As curious as we both are, we obviously don’t know. But they’re here to help—That’s what matters.” Ophelia assured. A squealing feedback from the amplifier on stage made a dramatic echo through the confinements of the theater, interrupting the discourse between both friends and indirectly calling them back to duty. "Corinne! Ophelia!” The manager called, aggressively stomping towards them with one of the other casts, Josh, following him. "You two! You have the guts to be loitering with intent. Are the roles going to play themselves? Huh?!” He barked as his bulbous eyes ripened, looking as if it was about to explode like an already ticking bomb. His petite stature compared to those around him could make one mistake him as one of Santa’s runaway elf or maybe a gardener’s gnome. Nevertheless, his arrogance exceeded his stunted physique. “You heard him?! Run along now! " said the cast whom the manager came with. He sounded and gesticulated effeminately. Perhaps, Josh is gay. His voice even sounds gay. "I don’t have that luxury of time to further this banter but in the next few minutes, you both must be on that stage rehearsing for tonight’s play! Because we are expecting someone of prestige, prominence, and of help!” the manager spoke rapidly under his breath. In disdain, Josh scowls at the girls, “You heard him? Girl, go fix yourself up. You are in tatters. And you better not bring that gloominess to the stage," he said, referring to Corinne. This left both friends speechless as the manager walked out on them, followed by Josh. “They are unbelievable.” Corrine snarled. Come on. Let’s go rehearse the play. We don’t want to give them any more reasons to yell at us.”Ophelia said. As they began to prepare for the rehearsal, Corrine's mind wandered back to the mysterious guest and the promise of change the organization might bring. Maybe, just maybe, this was the turning point she had been waiting for.