Falling Stars

  " Put out the light.' " he continued moving toward the bed and Desdemona. 'and then put out the light..." "

  On through the speech he went, never more dramatic, never more convincing until he reached his final lines...

  "This sorrow's heavenly. It strikes where it does love.' " Desdemona turned in the bed and Howard cried. 'She wakes..

  He turned and froze. like Lot's wife in the Bible. I thought he'd never move again.

  Gerta, in the correct costume and wig, cried back, " 'Who's there. Othello?' "

  Howard's mouth opened and closed, but nothing emerged. Panicked, he turned toward the audience and then back toward

  Gerta, who went on with. " 'Will you come to bed, my lord?' "

  "Madame Senetsky!" Howard screamed.

  "Bring down the curtain," we heard her shout back. And it fell like lead.

  16 The Final Scene

  Ironically, none of us truly appreciated the strength and the poise of Madame Senetsky as much as we did after the bedlam and confusion had begun. Without hesitation, she had Laura Fairchild sweep Gerta away, leading her back through the private residence and up to her apartment with a minimum of witnesses. We were told to report immediately to her office, and then she took the stage and addressed her guests calmly.

  "My performers are, after all," she began. "still amateurs. There's been an unfortunate mix-up. Please, follow my son Edmond and the faculty to the ballroom, where we will begin our reception. I'll join you all as soon as I can. Thank you."

  We heard the loud murmuring as the audience filed out. Behind the curtain, Howard was still sitting on Desdemona's bed, his head in his hands, no doubt moaning over the sabotaging of his great

  performance.

  Steven, the most confused. chanted. "What's going on? What's happening? Who was that? Huh? What's going on?"

  None of us spoke. We marched quietly to the office. Steven lingered to see what Howard was going to do and then finally caught up with us in the hallway just outside the office.

  "Hey," he cried. "What the hell is happening? Won't anyone tell me anything? Cinnamon, why weren't you out there to do the scene with Howard? Who was that?"

  Cinnamon turned to him, her face cold and stern.

  "Howard has been working with someone else in secret,' she said.

  "Huh?"

  He looked at the rest of us, who stared with one solid wall of silent wrath. It was enough to make him step back and calm down. We entered the office and sat on the nail-head red leather settee that was angled toward the large, dark oak desk. It was neatly organized with a gold framed picture of Madame Senetsky receiving a Tony award for her role of Katherine in The Taming of the Shrew.

  Steven waited in the hallway and then entered with Howard, whose face was still the color of a ripe apple. He stood there, looking at us.

  "Did someone here actually think that was a funny thing to do?' he asked in a very controlled voice of rage.

  "No." Cinnamon said. "Actually, we were expecting you to continue with your role-playing and start to call her Gerta Berta."

  Howard's crimson quickly paled to the color of cherry blossoms.

  "What?" he managed to ask in a throaty voice.

  "Can someone please tell me what this is all about?" Steven cried, his arms up.

  "It's about Madame Senetsky's daughter and how she was first abused by her father and then by a so-called budding thespian, who took disgusting advantage of her," Cinnamon told him, throwing a look full of darts at Howard,

  "Now, just a minute." Howard began.

  "The night Honey saw you coming down the stairs, she and I went up to see Gerta, Howard. We saw what you had done. She told us."

  "That's just her crazy imagination. You don't expect anyone is going to take her word against mine. Why..."

  "Never mind your bickering." we heard, and saw Madame Senetsky in the doorway. "Both of you, sit," she ordered Howard and Steven. They moved instantly to the two chairs across from us. She closed the office door.

  "I don't know how much of that you heard. Madame Senetsky,-. Howard began, "but I can assure you--"

  She raised her hand like a traffic cop. and Howard pressed his lips together so hard, someone would think they were glued shut. The door opened and Edmond stepped in. He closed it softly behind himself and stood there, leaning against it.

  "You should be with our guests. Edmond," Madame Senetsky said.

  "No, Mother, I believe I should be here," he replied. He was so firm in his reply, she did not disagree. Instead, she turned to us.

  "How long have you known about Gerta?" she asked. From the way her eyes fixed on me, it looked as if she was directing herself solely to me.

  "Some time now. Madame Senetsky. Weeks," I replied. I glanced at Edmond, who didn't look as angry at us as he did troubled and sad. "It began when we realized someone was on our fire escape landing in the evening, looking into our rooms. Rose's and min e, especially. We didn't know who it could be," I said.

  "It wasn't me," Steven said quickly, somehow thinking that was the most important issue.

  Howard smirked and looked away.

  "You thought it might have been me?" Edmond said, reaching his own conclusion from the way my eves shifted to him and then quickly away. "Because of how she was dressed:" he added. "correct?"

  "Edmond," Madame Senetsky chided.

  "Correct?" he pursued, raising his voice like a prosecutor.

  "Yes," Cinnamon said. "Especially after we found what we believed was your ascot."

  He nodded and looked at Madame Senetsky.

  "Apparently, taking advantage of her identity problem and having her play me worked. Mother, but not the way you expected it to work."

  "Edmond, return to our guests," she ordered gently. "It's too late. Mother. Let's just finish all this."

  Madame Senetsky raised her eyes toward the ceiling and then looked back at us.

  "Go on," she said. "What happened next?" Once again. she centered her gaze on me.

  "We watched for whoever it was one night and saw a figure go up the fire escape to the landing above. Shortly after that. I was missing some clothing."

  "yes, the clothing. Why didn't you report it?" "I... we..." I turned to Cinnamon.

  "We weren't ready to make any accusations yet. Rose and Ice were missing some things as well. For a while, they doubted they had brought them," she explained.

  "Go on."

  "One night we went up the ladder and we saw... saw Gerta dressed in man's clothing, but we also saw she wasn't a man. It frightened us, and we retreated. We didn't know what to think and we didn't want to make a scene. We were afraid," I added. "Afraid of you."

  "Not that afraid apparently," she muttered. "So?"

  "Rose's brother is an expert on the computer and he found out some things about your family."

  "That article about my husband.," Madame Senetsky recalled. She turned to Cinnamon. "The one you claimed you found in your closet. That was something this brother dug up?"

  "Yes," Cinnamon said.

  She nodded.

  "I didn't mean to leave it behind," Rose cried. "I--"

  "That's not important now. What else did your brother dig up, as you say?" she asked Rose.

  "He found out you had a daughter named Gerta in a clinic in Switzerland and he found out she had died. Which," she added looking to me. "you had told Honey."

  Madame Senetsky gazed at me. Suddenly, the sternness and the anger drained from her face. She sat back, looking more like an exhausted elderly woman. It was an instant metamorphosis, as if she had removed a mask.

  "It was bound to happen someday. Mother. I told you this years ago," Edmond said.

  She nodded.

  "I've never had nor expected to have a group of determined little detectives living in my midst," she said.

  "We didn't mean to pry," Cinnamon said. "We were naturally very curious and we went back and met Gerta. We felt very sorry for her, and for a while we thought we might give her so
me companionship."

  "How did that include putting her on stage to be seen by all these people?" she demanded, the fury rushing back into her face.

  "That came about for another reason," Cinnamon said, looking to Howard.

  His face exploded in a panic.

  "Whatever they say isn't true," he cried. "It was them. They were toying with her, making her play silly games, humoring her in those costumes, reciting lines to let her to repeat speeches from plays. I saw it myself, firsthand."

  "So you were up there, too, then?" she asked him. "That's not a lie then, is it?"

  "What? Well. I saw that they were up to something, and I made them take me up there one night to see for myself"

  "Why didn't you come to me to tell me about it if you say they were toying with her?" Madame Senetsky asked almost calmly.

  "Well. I was... I was going to, but... we had this Performance Night..."

  "He went up there without us afterward," Cinnamon said boldly. "More than once. And we are sure he took advantage of her. We went up after him and found her crying, claiming she had been bad again.'

  "That's a lie. This whole thing about Gerta Berta is just..."

  Madame Senetsky's eyes blazed. She leaned forward, looking at us first.

  "She told you all of that?"

  "Yes, Madame," I said.

  She turned to Cinnamon.

  "Are you saying he pretended to be my husband?" Cinnamon could only nod.

  We all looked down. but I could see Howard's eyes shifting from side to side like a trapped rodent.

  "Steven apparently knows nothing about all this." Madame Senetsky concluded, looking at him. He had never looked more stunned and confused.

  "No, ma'am," he said. She nodded.

  "I would like to speak privately with the young ladies, first, Edmond, would you please take Howard to the parlor, and then take Steven and please look in on the reception and tell everyone I'll be there as soon as possible. Please," she begged him.

  "All right. Mother. but I'll be right back,"

  "I understand," she said.

  Edmond looked down at Howard.

  "Come with me immediately," he ordered. Steven was already up and to the door. He couldn't get away fast enough. Howard glanced back at us.

  "They're just going to tell you a bunch of lies about me," he threw back and walked out.

  Edmond closed the door.

  The silence was heavy. Everyone looked like she was holding her breath.

  "It seems so very, very long ago," she began. "when I was as young as you all are now. I was one of those people who are described as having the theater in her blood. I suppose. I was putting on shows for my own parents when I was barely old enough to speak," she said, smiling at the memories.

  "For me, there was never anything more exciting than an audience. I suppose it is no

  exaggeration to say I was and still remain obsessed,"

  Again she looked mostly at me.

  "Marriage, a family, a loving husband, were never as important. I have often lectured you about dedication and I have even been hard on you to keep you determined. Maybe that's wrong. Maybe that's a certain sort of madness. I don't know. I just do what I think I must do to turn my rough-cut precious stones into jewels. I've had many successes.

  "If you have all the research you claim you have, you know that I didn't get married until I was in my thirties, and reluctantly. My husband wanted a trophy more than a wife, and I wanted to rid myself of the nagging obligation to marry and have a family. I didn't want anything to hinder my career, even if it meant doing something I had half a heart for. My husband was sympathetic, cooperative. I should say, in the beginning. He tolerated my loving the theater far more than I would ever love him. But in time, he drifted into his world and left me to mine.

  "We had Edmond because he demanded he have an heir and that was part of our bargain, and then. I had an affair with a leading man in a production I was in. and I became pregnant with Gerta. My husband found out and insisted I give birth to her despite this. He was more concerned about his reputation, and wanted the world to believe the child was his.

  "I was a fool to believe he would not harbor any resentment about it, but his resentment. I thought, was tempered when we found out that Gerta had certain disabilities, and yet a remarkable ability to memorize facts, information she couldn't use. The plays you heard her quote, the parts, most of them I played and I think she was motivated to learn them because of that, but she has other facts stored in her mind that astound me.

  "She was always a very sensitive child. She seemed unable to go beyond a certain age. although I have always hated the term retarded. I refuse to accept such a word for her. I have had some specialists tell me she is akin to an idiot savant. At times. as I suspect you have come to realize, she is truly amazing.

  "Like any child, she longed to be loved and cherished and I'm afraid Marshall, my husband, took advantage of that. It had a devastating effect on Gerta and she, as you know, had to be institutionalized. I kept it all as quiet as I could. It reached a terrible climax when she attempted to commit suicide. Marshall was living in New York and I was in a production of Moliere's The Misanthrope in Paris I had to rush back to Switzerland.

  "There were a number of rag newspaper reporters hot on the story. Someone I trusted very much came up with the idea to pretend Gerta was indeed gone. Our hope was she would never be pursued or abused again."

  She paused to take a breath. None of us dared.

  "Perhaps it was my anger, my utter disgust, but I let Marshall believe the story about Gerta's death was true. I even had a quick funeral before he could return, and there is actually a grave with a tombstone that bears her name. One of my greatest performances occurred at that gravesite," she added, with a look on her face that suggested to me she was proud of it. "Especially when I stood there with Marshall. I enjoyed his suffering."

  She was silent a moment, and then, after a deep breath, continued.

  "Marshall, as you already know from that article, took his own life soon afterward. I have my moments of regret, but they are short-lived. Some people can't live with the evil in themselves and what they do is what they need to do. So it was with my husband.

  "I brought Gerta back, hoping to give her some comfort. The rest you now know."

  "But it seems very cruel to keep her locked up like that," I said.

  "And Ms. Fairchild is not exactly a warm companion for her," Cinnamon added bitterly.

  "She does what she thinks I want her to do."

  "Chop off her hair and threaten to do it again and again!" Ice snapped.

  Madame Senetsky widened her eyes, "Gerta did that to herself."

  "No, she didn't, Madame. We were upstairs in Gerta's bedroom when Ms. Fairchild threatened her."

  She stared at us and then nodded softly, following that with a deep sigh.

  "Laura can be overly exuberant when she is asked to carry out an order. I suppose."

  "Like a Nazi," Rose muttered. Edmond stepped back into the office.

  "It's all right out there," he said softly. He looked at us and then his mother. "Well?'

  "I've told them everything and they have told me some things as well. You've been right about all this, Edmond. Changes will be made immediately."

  He smiled.

  "That's good, Mother."

  Madame Senetsky rose.

  "We have to attend to our guests," she said.

  "The show must go on," Cinnamon muttered loud enough for all to hear.

  "Yes," Madame Senetsky said in the tone of one who had to admit the inevitable. "It must if we are to go on. Edmond?'

  "Actually," he said. "despite the disaster of the final act, there are people chafing at the bit to meet you all. I have a record company producer who is very interested in you. Ice. Rose, there's a casting director out there who's looking for dancers for a Broadway show. It will be just as part of the chorus, but it's a very nice opportunity. Jack Ferante was apparentl
y more impressed with Cinnamon than he was with Howard, and he passed her name on to Mark Coleman. Mother."

  "I didn't see Mark there tonight."

  "He was there and was disappointed not to see you, but he came up to me immediately when I brought Steven to the reception and asked to have Cinnamon come to an audition for his new film. The Runaways. It could be a star-maker."

  "That's very interesting. Edmond, but I don't want to rush these people."

  "Mother," he warned. "Are we going to get into the same old argument?"

  He turned to us and smiled.

  "Mother and I disagree about when and where talented people should be exposed to the public at large. She forgets how she was pushed out on stage at the age of fourteen."

  "That's different."

  "Why? Because it was you?" She stiffened,

  "We'll talk about it later, when it is appropriate to talk about it," she said firmly.

  He smiled.

  "I have some interesting prospects for you as well. Honey. but I do believe the more you work with Mr. Bergman, the better you're going to be, Before this year ends, you'll have a position in a significant orchestra. I'm sure."

  "What about Steven?" I asked.

  Edmond looked at Madame Senetsky.

  "There's a manager who is very interested in taking him on," he replied.

  "Not that Hungarian horse thief. Mazdar," she said.

  "He gets it done. Mother."

  "He ruins them." she countered.

  "We'll talk," Edmond said softly.

  "That, my son, we will do," she assured him with her characteristic regal control.

  She started out and then turned to us.

  "Well? Why are you all still sitting there? You have responsibilities. I've spent hours and hours, days and days preparing you for meeting people in events such as these. I don't expect anyone will let me down. Ice, fix your hair. Cinnamon, straighten out that ridiculous skirt. Rose, didn't I tell you to use less lipstick? Wipe it off and put it on lightly, lightly. Honey..."

  "Yes, Madame Senetsky."

  "Come along. I have someone I want to introduce you to myself. Quickly," she ordered. and I jumped up, looked at the others and they followed her and Edmond. Just outside the door. I paused and turned back to face my three sisters. No one spoke.