The Fools Who Dream

[Laurels]

Annika tapped her foot against the cold tile floor of the hallway. She kept looking around the hallway, staring at all the other women sitting in rows of chairs against the walls. They all looked so beautiful. Each woman there had taken extra time to style their hair and apply their makeup today, with not even so much as a smudge of lipstick on their teeth. Some of them were looking over sheets of paper in their hands, while others were engrossed in their phones or just staring into empty space.

Annika clutched a sheet of paper, her gaze flicking back to it. She read over the words, quietly mouthing them to herself. This was her chance to really make a statement and to finally break into the world she had been dreaming of ever since she was a child. She had to make sure she was perfect.

A few steps down from Annika, a door swung open, and a stout woman stepped into the hall. A tall, redheaded woman accompanied her. The redhead passed by the stout woman and down the hall, reaching for a tissue in her pocket. As Annika watched her disappear, the stout woman glanced down at a clipboard, then looked out into the group of waiting women.

"Cleo Barstow."

A woman in the row across from Annika stood. Annika couldn't help but look over the woman named Cleo Barstow. She had black, curly hair that fell in waves down her back, perfectly perky breasts, and luscious, full lips. Suddenly, Annika considered that she should have curled her hair a bit, splurged on some more expensive makeup, or at least invested in some lip fillers. But then again, Annika preferred to have money to eat, so that was always going to win out in the end. Besides, lip fillers would be too much, even for her. She had spent enough money on that sort of commitment for one lifetime.

She watched as Cleo disappeared into the room with the casting agent. Annika had to wonder what it was like in there. This was the first time she had booked an audition since moving to New York City. After months of searching for casting opportunities and convincing herself she could survive in the city while she waited tables in Greenwich Village, she had finally received a call telling her she could audition for the new Karl Louis Lang play.

Part of her couldn't believe it. Karl Louis Lang was someone she admired even back in high school in rural Kentucky. He got his start doing one-man shows in Brooklyn, then started producing more and more daring works. These projects usually addressed difficult subjects like incest, abortion, and manslaughter, and usually in minimalist settings with few characters. Annika had cried when she read the part of Helena in his play Thus the Girl Died, a play that followed a young woman on the night she ended her life. It was the kind of role that made Annika want to leave Kentucky and be a star.

Of course, the weight of this audition was starting to make her shoulders feel sore. She didn't believe that Lang would be here today, but she knew she had to nail this part well. She'd read an interview Lang did with the New York Times where he stated that he wanted his actors to be raw, and to come to him knowing his parts were made for those who needed a voice. For someone like Annika, the idea of being able to speak as she wanted was something she'd yearned for since she was young, so she prayed she'd make an impression today.

She reviewed the paper in her hand. She had copied the text from home and printed it out. The page was covered in notes in the margin, pointing to where Annika should enunciate or place greater emphasis. After all, she couldn't just mimic what the original person said; she had to show that she could portray any material given to her.

When she got the news that she had booked an audition, Annika was given a letter by Lang's people. The women auditioning for the role should come in with a monologue of their choice. Apparently, the role was still in development, so Lang wanted to build it from the actress up. He wanted them to come in and bring something that meant something to them, and for them to portray it however they pleased. It was non-traditional, but it had resulted in Tony's for Lang and several of his actors, so Annika figured it was worth trying. For Annika, despite hours spent searching for monologues that would best work for her, it became obvious which one she would choose as soon as she found a clip of it online.

As she read over the lines again, the door to the room opened once more. Cleo Barstow walked out, her eyes slightly red and a tissue held to her mouth. The stout woman stepped out with her clipboard.

"Annika Reidy."

Annika's grip on the paper tightened, crumpling the side a bit. She quickly stood up, brushing her skirt over her knee, and walked towards the room, folding the paper up to put in her blouse pocket. She brushed her hair back behind her ears and entered the room, keeping her hands in front of her and clasped together. In her mind, she heard a cacophony of circus music and fireworks going off. This was finally the moment.

Looking around, Annika took in the room. To her right was a single wooden chair seated against a wall; the wall was draped with a black curtain. Directly across from the chair was a table with two men seated behind it. The stout woman took an empty seat on the left side. On the right, a younger man sat, a camera positioned near him on a tripod. He gave Annika a small smile as she walked in. At the center was a man with a salt-and-pepper beard and small glasses, writing on a notepad. He didn't look at Annika as she walked in, but Annika knew exactly who he was. He was Karl Louis Lang. Suddenly, she felt completely inappropriate for the setting.

"Please have a seat," Lang said, without looking up from the paper.

Annika quietly moved to the wooden chair and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. She placed her hands on her lap and sat up straight. Her mother always told her that her posture needed to be improved, but considering Annika was always somewhat dainty as a child, that wasn't so hard for her.

"This is Jeanie, my casting director," Lang said, clearly referring to the woman. "And this is Cooper, my personal assistant."

Lang looked up from his notepad. He gestured to Cooper, who pressed a button on the camera.

"Okay, we're recording," Cooper said.

"Please state your name for the camera," Jeanie said.

Annika quickly swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Annika Reidy."

"Now, Miss Reidy," Jeanie continued. "You have been asked to bring a monologue in for this audition. You are free to remain seated or to stand up if you prefer. When you are finished, please let us know."

"Alright," Annika said.

Lang folded his arms and held his fist under his chin.

"Miss Reidy, are you scared?" he asked.

Annika quickly snapped her head towards him.

"Pardon?"

"Are you scared for what you are about to do today?"

"Well, everyone has those nerves and-"

"Good. I'm going to tell you what I've told everyone who has walked in here today," Lang began. "I want you to be scared. I want you to be small. I want you to feel weak, at your lowest point. The play I'm putting together is all about the absolute lowest depths anyone has ever reached in their lives, and the attempts to move out of that pit. Today, I want to see you in that pit, and I want you to give me a reason to pull you out of it. Please give me a reason to save you."

Annika quietly nodded. She'd known Lang was an intense director, but now she was quite certain this man would make her piss herself if she wasn't careful.

"Now then. May I please ask what you will be performing today?" he asked.

Annika bobbed a bit in her seat. Her throat already felt a bit dry, but she quickly swallowed and spoke.

"Today, I have chosen a monologue made famous by an artist I admire and idolize," she said. "I'll be performing for you 'The Cedric Speech' from Season Fifty-One of Survival of the Fittest."

"Ah, Clara Hoffman," Lang said, slightly intrigued.

"Yes, the speech she gave back when she was Cedric Hoffman."

"I recently met Miss Hoffman at the MoMa," Lang said. "She's quite a fascinating woman, one who has been through such incredible darkness, only to emerge with such beauty and light. I assume you'll convince me you can escape a story like she did."

"I believe I can," Annika said.

"Good. You may begin when you are ready."

Annika closed her eyes. She took a deep breath in through her nose and then back out. Annika had faced many moments in her life when she made a choice she knew would change her forever: when she decided to be an actress, when she ran away from home, when she finally and truly became who she wanted to be. Now she had to give the performance of a lifetime. She had to be Clara Hoffman.

Annika opened her eyes, her gaze piercing directly into Lang's.

"Are you surprised?" she began. "Was this what you thought you'd wake up to, Frank? I bet it surprises you. I mean, of course I'd be able to tie you up like this. I know a low-class, backwoods, inbred hick like you would think you'd be able to beat anyone and do whatever you wanted as long as you swung your prick in the right direction and convinced yourself it was the road to Valhalla. But you really should have considered this: what if Cedric grew up on boats? Maybe they had a relative who took them on a sailboat every summer. Maybe they learned to tie knots, and maybe they knew how to escape them.

"Of course, you'd never think that. You'd never think anything of anyone who wasn't a straight, white male like you. After all, I'm just Cedric fucking Hoffman. I'm that person who prances the halls with perfectly flat hair and slim jeans. I'm the person who's dating outside my race, someone with the same genitals as me. I'm the person who'd rather pick up a paintbrush than pick up a shotgun. It must have been so easy to identify me as 'Other.' As 'Odd.' As 'Different.'

"Someone unlike you. Someone with a life different from yours. Someone born differently and who made different choices. I can't imagine just how scared that made you, Frank. To know someone could be happy being different. But then again, isn't that what all bigots like you are afraid of? You think you understand the world. You think your experience is the universal one. Anything or anyone who is different is something that needs to be destroyed. You use your words, your fists, your texts, your laws, and your vitriol to try and shape and change people like me.

"But guess what, Frank? I'm still here. You cut my hair, you tore my clothes, you scarred my body, but I'm still here. It must surprise you that someone like me can take control like I have. Well, I'm sorry, Frank, but you were wrong.

"You thought I'd give up the minute I saw Marcus die? Hell no. You thought someone like me can't possibly be strong enough to beat you? I am. And you most certainly couldn't imagine that someone like me would offer the same punishment to you as you did to me. But here I am, Cedric motherfucking Hoffman, and I survived you.

"I don't know if I'll survive this game, but I know people like me will survive. They'll grow, create, love, and cherish. They'll empathize, they'll share, they'll nurture, and they'll respect others. People like you can't do that. You can't grow, create, love, cherish, empathize, share, nurture, nor respect. Someone like you, someone who lives to hate and hates to live, you can't survive. And, I'm afraid, you won't survive. Ideas and morals like yours, they're burdened by so much anger and irrationality, all they can do is sink when they try to float.

"And that's what you'll do. Sink, Frank."

Annika continued to stare directly at Lang. Her face had turned slightly red, her eyes started to water, and her mouth felt dry. She had remained seated the whole time, occasionally gesturing with her hands in a controlled and direct manner. In the show, after Clara said "Sink, Frank," she pushed the anchor over the edge of the dock, causing Frank to be dragged into the water and drown. She said nothing more, and left the boathouse where Frank had killed her beloved Marcus and tortured her.

Lang kept his hand to his chin and matched Annika's stare. Annika broke the stare and adjusted herself back into her starting position. Lang moved his hand from his chin onto the table.

"Thank you, Miss Reidy," Lang said. "We'll be sure to let you know if you'll receive a callback."

Annika nodded. "Thank you for your time."

She stood up from her seat, brushing her skirt down. As she did, Lang stood up from his chair and held out his hand. Annika froze and stared at the hand. After a moment of shock, she walked over and shook it. She looked Lang directly in his eyes. It was hard to tell because of his age and his glasses, but his eyes were actually a deep blue color. The two broke the handshake, and Jeanie stood up to lead Annika to the door.

Annika stepped into the hallway as Jeanie called for the next actress. Annika quickly walked away from the rest of the women. She couldn't believe what she just did there. She had never given so much of herself in a performance, and she didn't know if she did enough.

However, she did feel a wave of emotion suddenly come over her, so she quickly stepped into the nearest ladies room. She sniffled as she walked over to the sink, grabbing a paper towel and wiping her nose. As she did, she suddenly closed her eyes tight and began to cry. She let out a whimper and leaned a hand against the counter.

As she did, one of the stalls opened, and a figure appeared. Annika turned and saw Cleo Barstow walk out. Cleo's eyes were red and puffy, and she clutched some toilet paper in her hands to use as tissues.

"Man, I never cry at auditions," Cleo said. "Well, unless they want me to cry."

Annika was silent. Cleo looked over Annika, and patted her on the back.

"Must have been a rough one," Cleo said. "I did the taxi scene from Before Sunset when Julie Delpy talks about how hurt she's been since she last saw Ethan Hawke. I went through a breakup like that and it seemed right for Lang. What about you?"

Annika sniffled. "I did the 'Cedric Speech' from SOTF."

"Oh, that was the New England season, right?"

"Yes."

"That was one of my favorites. I was so upset when Sasha died. She had been one of my favorites from the beginning and I really thought she'd beat Ilana and-"

"I'm trans."

Cleo fell silent.

"Pardon?"

"When I saw what happened to Clara Hoffman, I spent a whole night crying," Annika explained. "I was like her. I was a boy who wanted to be Ophelia and Blanche Dubois and Maria in West Side Story. Everyone around me thought I was crazy and tried to destroy me, just like Frank tried to destroy Clara. So I finally just let all that sink and moved to New York.

"I just… I never really felt what happened to Clara until I had to be her."

Cleo nodded.

"Well, do you think it went well?"

Annika shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, Mr. Lang just thanked me, shook my hand, and let me leave. He seems really hard to read."

"He didn't shake my hand," Cleo said.

"He didn't?"

"Nope. Maybe that's a sign in your favor."

She smiled at Annika and patted her on the back. "Knock 'em dead, girl."

Cleo walked past Annika and out of the bathroom. Annika looked at herself in the mirror. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? She had long hair, she wore makeup, she wore colorful blouses, skirts, and heels. She performed for her theater idols, and she may have done well. It'd be some time before she knew if she got a callback, but maybe it would be closer than she thought.

Annika took some time to calm herself down.

"Sink, Frank," she muttered to herself, a mantra she often told herself when she needed bad feelings to just disappear.

She walked out of the bathroom, and just like that, all the worries and fears she had sank into the abyss. All that remained was the feeling of joy flooding through her.