“What is she doing?” Michelle asked.
“She's looking for an engagement ring,” I said. “Grandmama's been pushing me to get married since I was about thirteen.” I turned back to my grandmother. “Michelle's just a client, Grandmama,” I said. “But you'll be happy to know I have a nice girlfriend now. Very nice.”
“She's a little like me,” Michelle said, to my grandmother.
“I'll bring her down next time,” I said. “Okay?”
Grandmama nodded in agreement, and then patted Michelle's hand, as if to say,
I'm sure you're a very nice girl, anyway.
“Michelle, would you close the door?” I said.
Michelle went to close the door; then she came back over.
“
Now
will you tell me what we're doing here?” she asked.
“My grandmother wasn't born here in the U.S.,” I said. “She was born and lived the first part of her life in Germany. She was a teenager when Hitler came to power. She was a newlywed when she and most of her family were sent to the camps.”
“My God,” Michelle said. “I'm terribly sorry.”
“Grandmama came to the U.S. after the war, married again, and had a child late in life,” I said. “My mother. And now we've come to the end of what I know of the story,” I looked over to Michelle. “Grandmama would never talk much about
her life before the U.S. to my mother, and of course my mother never did talk about it much with me. I'm hoping I can get her to share her experiences with you.”
“Now I see,” Michelle said.
My grandmother looked over to me, confused.
“Grandmama,” I said. “I haven't gone over the bend. I know you can't talk. This is hard to explain, but Michelle has a way of talking without talking. I know your memories are painful, and that you don't share about them for a reason. But Michelle wants to know what your memories are, if you'll share them. It will help her understand many things about our lives, and our history. It would mean a lot to me if you would share your memories with her.”
Michelle got down on her knee and took Grandmama's other hand again. “See what I'm doing now?” Michelle said, holding grandmama's hand lightly. “This is all I'd have to do. Just sit with you for a little while. You wouldn't even have to think about those things, if you didn't want to, Sarah. All we'd have to do is sit together.”
My grandmother looked at Michelle, and then at me. She smiled, gently slid her hand out of mine, put it to her temple, and made a corkscrew motion.
I laughed. “I know. We both sound nuts. They're going to be hauling us both off sometime soon. But in the meantime, will you help us?”
My grandmother looked me and at Michelle. Michelle she patted on hand. Then she lightly tapped my shoulder, and pointed at the door. I looked at her quizzically.
“I think she's saying she's willing to do it, but she doesn't want you around,” Michelle said. “Maybe she had a reason for
not telling the story to your mother or you, Tom. She doesn't want to run the risk of you hearing it.”
Grandmama nodded her head vigorously and patted Michelle's hand again.
“Out you go,” Michelle said.
I stood up. “How long will you need?” I asked Michelle. “An hour, maybe two,” she said. “If you can manage it, I'd prefer that we weren't disturbed. I want to get this all at one time.”
“I'll do what I can.”
“Thanks, Tom,” Michelle looked up at me briefly, and then back to Grandmama. “Now, shoo. Sarah and I are going to have a conversation.”
Â
Twice
a nurse came by to check on things. Twice I sent her away, the second time bribing her with the promise of an autograph by Michelle. The nurse left behind her clipboard and her pen as insurance. I hoped it didn't contain serious information about any of the other folks in the retirement home.
Three hours after she began, Michelle opened the door to my grandmother's room and came out. She touched my arm distractedly, and then propped herself against the corridor wall. She looked exhausted.
“Here,” I said, handing her the clipboard. “I promised the nurse an autograph if she would go away.”
Michelle took the clipboard and stared at it like it was some sort of strange animal.
“Michelle,” I said. “You okay?”
“I'm fine,” she said, taking the pen from the top of the clipboard and scratching her name on the piece of paper it contained. “I'm just very tired.”
“How is Grandmama?” I asked.
“She's nodded off in her chair,” Michelle said, handing the clipboard back to me. “You should have the nurse put her to bed.”
“I will,” I said. “Did you get what you need?”
For the first time, Michelle looked directly at me. Her eyes were startling; they were the eyes of someone who had walked through the coals of Hell and came through them, but not unscathed, not without wounds.
“Your grandmother is a remarkable woman, Tom,” she said. “Remember that. Don't ever forget it.”
Then she lapsed into silence. We didn't talk again that day.
Â
“
What
the hell is
she
doing here?” Avika Spiegelman said, referring to Michelle.
Roland had taken my advice and surprised Avika, saying only that he found an “interesting” actress that he thought might pull off the role. The withering glare she was now carpet bombing Roland with made me understand why he had been reluctant to go along with my scheme to begin with.
“We never got a full reading the first time,” Roland said, holding his ground with aplomb. “I felt Miss Beck deserved that much before we rejected her out of hand.”
“Roland, she
fainted
at the last reading,” Avika seethed. “And a good thing too, since she was clearly incapable of the reading to begin with. I can't believe you would be wasting your time with her now, considering how little time you have left with this property.”
Michelle, who sat in front of the video camera, just as she had at the last reading, had a smirk on her face that did not indicate she was taking Avika's insults seriously. Positioned as I
was on the couch, I was getting the full panoramic view: Michelle's smirk, Roland's aplomb, Avika's seething. This was going to be a fun reading.
“Boy, it's swell to see you again too, Ms. Spiegelman,” Michelle said.
Avika regarded Michelle coolly. “Aren't you supposed to be in a coma?” she said.
“I got over it,” Michelle said. “Which, apparently, is more than you can say.”
“You planning to faint again?” Avika said.
“I won't if you won't,” Michelle said. “Do we have a deal?”
“Fat chance,” Avika said, and turned to Roland. “I'm leaving now, Roland.” She turned to leave.
“Bitch,” Michelle said.
Avika froze. Very slowly, she turned around.
“
What
did you just say?” She spat at Michelle.
“You heard me perfectly well,” Michelle said, leaning back in her chair with an air of supreme relaxation. “I called you a bitch. I was going to call you a raging bitch, but then I thought, why give you the courtesy of a modifier? You're just a bitch, plain and simple.”
Avika looked like the top of her head was going to pop off. She turned to me. “Tom, do you always let your clients insult the people who can give them the roles they want?”
“Hey,” I said. “I'm just here for the show.”
“I'm not calling anyone who will give me a role a bitch,” Michelle said. “Clearly, you have no intention of giving me the role. As far as I can see, the only reason I'm calling you a bitch is because that is what you so obviously are.”
“I don't need to be insulted by you,” Avika said.
“Well, you need to be insulted by
someone
,” Michelle said. “And it looks like I'm the only one here with enough interest in you to do it. Sort of sad, really.”
“Listen, you little shit,” Avika said. “You don't even deserve to
read
for this part, much less play it.”
“Well then, we're equal,” Michelle said, “since you don't deserve to make that decision.”
“I'm her
niece
,” Avika said.
“You're her third cousin, twice removed,” Michelle said. “I checked. And your only qualification is that you're tangentially related. All you're interested in is appearances. I don't fit your notion of who your sainted aunt was, so I'm out.”
“You're nothing like my aunt,” Avika said.
“I'd say I'm a lot like your aunt. Your aunt spent a lot of her time flying in the face of ignorant morons who decided the world was one way and there was no other way the world could be. As far as I can tell, I'm doing the same right now. I'm more like your aunt than
you
are.”
“How dare you say that?” Avika hissed. “You can't even
act
.”
Michelle smiled. “Neither could your aunt, bitch.”
Roland, who had been observing the exchange between Michelle and Avika with an increasing expression of horror, glanced over at me with an expression that loosely translated to
Get me out of here
. I shrugged. There was nothing to do now but to ride this one out.
Michelle got up, grabbed a script, and walked over to Avika. “I'll tell you what, Avika,” Michelle said. “I'll admit I could be wrong about you being a bitch. I'm entirely convinced you are, but it is within the realm of possibility that I'm wrong. But the only way you can prove it is to admit
you
might be wrong about me not being able to do the part.”
Michelle slapped the script on Avika's chest. “The only way you're going to do
that
is to let me read. Come on, Avika. It can't hurt.”
“I don't have to prove anything to you,” Avika said, grabbing the script.
“Sure you do,” Michelle said, turning around and heading back to her seat. “Because there's one difference between you and me, Avika. You see, I couldn't give a shit that you think I can't act. But it's clear that it bothers you that I think you're a bitch.”
“Hardly,” Avika said.
“Really?” Michelle said, sitting down. “Then why are you still here?”
Avika's mouth dropped open. Roland, a strapping man, looked like he wanted to curl up into a fetal ball.
“Come on, people,” Michelle said. “Let's shit or get off the pot. Read me or don't, but let's make a decision.”
Roland snapped out of it before Avika could utter another word. “What scene would you like, Miss Beck?”
“Your choice,” Michelle said. “I really did memorize the script this time.”
“The whole script?” Roland said.
“Sure, why not?” Michelle said, and glanced over to me mischievously. “Elvis did it.”
Avika flipped the script open and read. “âHow dare you tell me what I can and cannot do?'” Avika said. “âYou are my wife, not my master.'”
“âI am your master's instrument, Josef,'” Michelle said, the words ripping out of her with an intensity that took us all by surprise. “âGo on the
Judenrat
and you turn your back on your people and your God. And you turn your back on me. For I
am
your wife, Josef. But cooperate with the Germans and
we are not married.
You will be as dead to me now as you will be soon enough by the hands of the Germans.'”
There was dead silence. We all stared in disbelief. Even me.
Michelle smiled sweetly. “Got your attention, didn't I?” she said.
Avika opened the script at random and quoted line after line. Line after line was responded to with the sort of stunning display of acting that you get to see one or twice in a lifetime. It was flabbergasting. It was impossible. It was the most incredible acting experience I'd ever seen. And it was just a line reading. We were all beginning to wonder what was going to happen once Michelle actually started acting for the record.
After an hour, Avika dropped the script at her feet. “I wouldn't have believed it,” she said, simply.
“I know you wouldn't,” Michelle said, as simply. “And I thank you, Avika, my friend, for finally letting me show you.”
Avika burst into tears and headed towards Michelle. Michelle burst into her own tears and met Avika halfway. They stood in the middle of the room, crying hysterically. Roland and I looked over at each other. Both of us had these incredibly smug smiles on our face.