Take a Bow
Page 35
But I have to admit what I love the most is that Sophie is not mentioned by name.
MOM: I thought once you didn’t have a publicist, we didn’t have to worry about things like this getting leaked. That Jill would have had a field day with you being single again. Remember her? The one you had before Sheila Marie? The one who leaked your audition to CPA?
I stare at Mom. I thought she leaked …
I’m adding this to the list of grave misunderstandings I’ve had about my mother. I can’t believe all these years I’ve assumed that any press leak was her fault. Or any disagreements she’s ever had with producers were because she was a control freak (when actually she was looking out for her child). Or, most importantly, the idea that I’m still an actor is her sole responsibility.
Still, I can’t get over how well she’s taking the fact that I’m leaving acting. I guess it’s not for another three months, but still. And she’s been really supportive of me looking into art schools.
ME: Is that why she was fired?
I remember thinking Jill being fired as my publicist had to do with the lack of press coverage my attending CPA was getting. Anytime there was a mention of it, Mom always commented on it. But I assumed she was unhappy with the placement or something. Not that she was upset that it was mentioned at all.
MOM: Yes. I made it very clear to her that your education is a private matter. If she wanted to promote the public shows you were in, that was fine, but your classes and personal life were off-limits.
I never even bothered to wonder what my publicist’s job was. Mom took care of all that stuff. I did what they told me to do.
Something starts to register with her.
MOM: Who did you think leaked the audition to the press?
I don’t say anything.
She picks up the paper and starts to read.
ME: Mom, when I was little, did I enjoy going on all those auditions?
MOM: Yes. Every morning, you’d come and sit on my lap and ask me who you were going to be that day. You really seemed to love it. I used to take you to McDonald’s after all your auditions because I wanted you to experience something normal — eating greasy food, playing with the other kids…. I didn’t really know what else to do. I was a single mother who wasn’t planning on having a son with such famous aspirations.
I’m just starting to come to terms with the fact that everything that has happened to me was my responsibility. I’d hate Mom to think that I’ve painted her as this typical stage mom, because she’s anything but.
MOM: Oh, honey, there’s a new art exhibit opening at the Guggenheim. Do you want to go next weekend?
Most kids would kill to have such an understanding and supportive parent. I’ve had one my entire life but have pushed her away. Because it was easier to put the blame on someone else.
But the second I realized that I was the one who was preventing myself from being happy, a whole new world has opened up for me.
I’m happier, more confident, and now, thankfully, single.
And I might be ready to become my truest self.
Since I’ve, as they say, seen the light, I figure I should pass along the gift of being able to finally see clearly.
Emme studies the menu with such pinpoint focus, you’d think she was memorizing a foreign language.
EMME: Are you sure you’re allowed to eat this stuff? I don’t see grilled chicken anywhere.
ME: Hey, I do this once a week. I’m letting you into my dirty little sugar underworld. Are you in or not?
EMME: Oh, I’m definitely in. I’m thinking vanilla ice cream —
ME: Boring!
EMME: Let me finish. With peanut butter sauce, hot fudge, caramel, marshmallow topping with whipped cream, almonds, and a cherry, of course.
ME: Of course.
Emme orders a ridiculous sundae from this ice cream shop I discovered a few years ago when I was walking home from the soap’s studios in Hell’s Kitchen. Now that Chase Proctor has come down with a fever (Spoiler alert! It turns into an incurable disease that leaves me in a coma … in case I ever decide to come back), I’ve been able to keep my shirt on.
We sit down in a corner and she dives in. Lately, she has seemed a little bit more self-assured. I think we all knew that she was special and I’m hoping that maybe she’s starting to realize it as well.
ME: So will I still have my arm if I try to get a bite?
Emme has been happily shoving the gooey sundae in her mouth.
EMME: Oops, sorry.
She takes a big spoonful and pushes the rest of the sundae — well, what’s left of it — to me. For a little thing, she certainly has a big appetite.
EMME: So, I’ve been working on my song for the showcase. I think I’m going to audition for it. Do you know what you’re going to do?
Senior Showcase audition invitations were issued earlier this week. I wasn’t even happy when I got mine.
ME: What do you think the audition board would do if I showed up with one of my paintings?
EMME: That would be wonderful. I really like the one you did of the view of Central Park with the dots.
She starts poking the air with her spoon.
ME: Pointillism.
EMME: Spoken like a true artist.
It’s so weird to hear anybody say that about me. An artist.
But this isn’t about me. There’s something I need to tell Emme. And I have a feeling — actually, I know for a fact — that this won’t be the first time someone’s tried to talk sense into her.
ME: I wanted to talk to you about Sophie.
MOM: I thought once you didn’t have a publicist, we didn’t have to worry about things like this getting leaked. That Jill would have had a field day with you being single again. Remember her? The one you had before Sheila Marie? The one who leaked your audition to CPA?
I stare at Mom. I thought she leaked …
I’m adding this to the list of grave misunderstandings I’ve had about my mother. I can’t believe all these years I’ve assumed that any press leak was her fault. Or any disagreements she’s ever had with producers were because she was a control freak (when actually she was looking out for her child). Or, most importantly, the idea that I’m still an actor is her sole responsibility.
Still, I can’t get over how well she’s taking the fact that I’m leaving acting. I guess it’s not for another three months, but still. And she’s been really supportive of me looking into art schools.
ME: Is that why she was fired?
I remember thinking Jill being fired as my publicist had to do with the lack of press coverage my attending CPA was getting. Anytime there was a mention of it, Mom always commented on it. But I assumed she was unhappy with the placement or something. Not that she was upset that it was mentioned at all.
MOM: Yes. I made it very clear to her that your education is a private matter. If she wanted to promote the public shows you were in, that was fine, but your classes and personal life were off-limits.
I never even bothered to wonder what my publicist’s job was. Mom took care of all that stuff. I did what they told me to do.
Something starts to register with her.
MOM: Who did you think leaked the audition to the press?
I don’t say anything.
She picks up the paper and starts to read.
ME: Mom, when I was little, did I enjoy going on all those auditions?
MOM: Yes. Every morning, you’d come and sit on my lap and ask me who you were going to be that day. You really seemed to love it. I used to take you to McDonald’s after all your auditions because I wanted you to experience something normal — eating greasy food, playing with the other kids…. I didn’t really know what else to do. I was a single mother who wasn’t planning on having a son with such famous aspirations.
I’m just starting to come to terms with the fact that everything that has happened to me was my responsibility. I’d hate Mom to think that I’ve painted her as this typical stage mom, because she’s anything but.
MOM: Oh, honey, there’s a new art exhibit opening at the Guggenheim. Do you want to go next weekend?
Most kids would kill to have such an understanding and supportive parent. I’ve had one my entire life but have pushed her away. Because it was easier to put the blame on someone else.
But the second I realized that I was the one who was preventing myself from being happy, a whole new world has opened up for me.
I’m happier, more confident, and now, thankfully, single.
And I might be ready to become my truest self.
Since I’ve, as they say, seen the light, I figure I should pass along the gift of being able to finally see clearly.
Emme studies the menu with such pinpoint focus, you’d think she was memorizing a foreign language.
EMME: Are you sure you’re allowed to eat this stuff? I don’t see grilled chicken anywhere.
ME: Hey, I do this once a week. I’m letting you into my dirty little sugar underworld. Are you in or not?
EMME: Oh, I’m definitely in. I’m thinking vanilla ice cream —
ME: Boring!
EMME: Let me finish. With peanut butter sauce, hot fudge, caramel, marshmallow topping with whipped cream, almonds, and a cherry, of course.
ME: Of course.
Emme orders a ridiculous sundae from this ice cream shop I discovered a few years ago when I was walking home from the soap’s studios in Hell’s Kitchen. Now that Chase Proctor has come down with a fever (Spoiler alert! It turns into an incurable disease that leaves me in a coma … in case I ever decide to come back), I’ve been able to keep my shirt on.
We sit down in a corner and she dives in. Lately, she has seemed a little bit more self-assured. I think we all knew that she was special and I’m hoping that maybe she’s starting to realize it as well.
ME: So will I still have my arm if I try to get a bite?
Emme has been happily shoving the gooey sundae in her mouth.
EMME: Oops, sorry.
She takes a big spoonful and pushes the rest of the sundae — well, what’s left of it — to me. For a little thing, she certainly has a big appetite.
EMME: So, I’ve been working on my song for the showcase. I think I’m going to audition for it. Do you know what you’re going to do?
Senior Showcase audition invitations were issued earlier this week. I wasn’t even happy when I got mine.
ME: What do you think the audition board would do if I showed up with one of my paintings?
EMME: That would be wonderful. I really like the one you did of the view of Central Park with the dots.
She starts poking the air with her spoon.
ME: Pointillism.
EMME: Spoken like a true artist.
It’s so weird to hear anybody say that about me. An artist.
But this isn’t about me. There’s something I need to tell Emme. And I have a feeling — actually, I know for a fact — that this won’t be the first time someone’s tried to talk sense into her.
ME: I wanted to talk to you about Sophie.
