Audition of a Lifetime
Jean blinked and the stars she saw were the kind that appeared if you squeezed your eyes real tight for too long or the kind you saw if you took a right hook to the side of your head. She didn’t remember being punched so it must have been the other one.
As the stars began to clear she noticed that wherever she was it was dark or more aptly dimly lit. As she began to orientate herself, she did a self-check. This was something Jean did whenever she was in a stressful or emotional situation. It calmed her and helped her focus on the problem at hand. Her therapist had told her about doing self-checks when she was going through her divorce. It had been a long and bitter battle and had almost broken her, but the self-checks helped, and she got through it.
“Am I physically hurt?”, She said aloud,” No, everything felt normal.”
“Is my breathing regulated? In, out. Yes, breathing is normal.”
“How are my cognitive skills? It’s Tuesday and I’m 52 years old, uno, dos, tres, cuatro. Check, check, check.”
Aside from the clearing stars in her eyes, everything else seemed normal. She gave herself an all-clear on her self-check and as she did, she wondered if any of her ex-husband’s girlfriends or his new teen bride had to do any self-checks to avoid drowning in his bullshit.
Now, she began to focus on her surroundings. She could see large curtains just ahead. Black or a dark red from what she could tell. There were ropes above her head, big ropes that seemed to disappear into the rafters. She could see….
“Ms. Goodspring, you’re next,” said the person who was suddenly standing right next to Jean.
“Holy shit!” said Jean completely surprised by the person suddenly standing right next to her. “I’m what?” she asked.
“You’re up next,” they said.
“Up next for what?” Jean asked utterly confused. She was having a hard time seeing the face of this person. She saw their face, but it just seemed to…. shift? Maybe. She felt like she wasn’t wearing her glasses even though she didn’t wear glasses. She was going to have to reevaluate her self-check process.
“Just stand right here for a second,” the shifting-faced stranger said. Jean stood still waiting for further instructions. Jean was usually not one to ask questions, it was one of the issues her ex-husband brought up often. He always said that she was too docile and never stood up for herself or questioned things she didn’t understand. She had vowed to be more assertive in her life.
“Excuse me but what exactly is going on?” Jean said with authority.
“Hush,” replied Shifty.
“Sorry,” Jean said meekly.
They stood silently for what seemed like hours but was no more than a minute or two. Jean trying to catch glimpses of Shifty’s face as she tried to piece together what exactly happened. She couldn’t remember how she had wound up in this theater. Had she been drugged? Had she finally snapped and just wandered in? What was the last thing she remembered? She remembered getting a non-fat mocha latte from Starbucks. She remembered leaving the Starbucks and that it had been snowing hard. She remembered the homeless guy who had come up to her asking for change and she remembered stepping off the curb to cross the street and she remembered now. What had happened from then till now though?
“Ok, Ms. Goodspring, you’re up,” Shifty said as they gave her a push towards the stage.
“Up for what? I still don’t understand why I’m here!” Jean said.
“Just go! Your time is precious,” Said Shifty almost with a touch of sympathy in their voice.
Jean squinted at Shifty one last time to try and focus their face but gave up and proceeded to walk on stage. It was an enormous theater. Grand in scale and detail. It was beautiful in a very classic sense. The kind of theater that every city would have had in the days before movies and television when live performances dominated the scene. Jean was in awe. It was stunning in its opulence. The stage itself was massive as well. She could imagine huge ensemble dance numbers being performed up here. There was one small spotlight center stage, so Jean began to walk towards it. Each step would echo throughout the chamber and with each step, Jean became increasingly nervous. She saw no one in the audience and still had no idea why she was here.
As she centered herself in the spotlight she saw, for the first time, a dim light about a third of the way up the rows of seats. Jean put her hand above her eyes and called out towards the light.
“Hello?”
There was no response. How long was she supposed to stand there? Was Shifty going to come back and get her? Jean called out again.
“Hello? Is anyone out there?”
The voice that answered seemed to be inside her head.
“Ah, yes, Jean Goodspring. Welcome, you may begin whenever you’re ready,” said the voice.
“I’m sorry. Ready for what?”
“You’re audition. Please, begin. We have a lot of these to get through today.”
“Again, I’m sorry but I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” Jean said perplexed.
“Your monologue. Ready? And go,” said the voice.
“What monologue?” Jean asked sincerely.
“Do you not have a monologue prepared?” Asked the voice with growing annoyance.
“N…no”, Jean stammered.
“Well, then go with a short soliloquy. We’ll work with it. Proceed.”
Jean stood there frozen in place. Her anxiety was beginning to rise. This was reminding her of that recurring nightmare she would have all during college about having to give a speech she wasn’t prepared for. She quickly and discreetly touched her hands to her leg and torso. She wasn’t naked so it wasn’t exactly like the nightmare, but it was damn close.
“I don’t have one of those prepared either,” Jean said with bile beginning to rise in her throat.
The voice was becoming annoyed.
“Just do something. Anything. Do you remember an old commercial? Maybe you’re a singer? Do you know a song? A children’s fairy tale? Anything. Please, work with us here.”
“I’m sorry I can’t remember anything right now.”
Jean could hear the voice, but it was low and mumbled as if the voice was whispering to someone else. The pause was uncomfortable.
“Hello?” Jean called out.
“One second, please,” replied the voice.
Jean first heard the footsteps. Softly at first and then louder as they got closer. Plodding, heavy determined steps. Jean began to see a form take shape from the audience. With each step, the image took a more defined shape until standing before her was a man no more than 5 feet tall with the most gorgeous head of red hair she had ever seen before. It seemed to flow as he stood there though Jean could not feel a breeze.
“So, you have no monologue, no soliloquy, no song, poem, quote, nothing,” said Red.
“No, I’m very sorry. Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m auditioning for,” said Jean sincerely.
“WHAT?!”, Red said with shock. “You have no idea why you’re here?”
“No, I’m sorry. The last thing I remember was standing backstage and some funny looking person telling me that I’m next. Is this some kind of community theater program?” asked Jean.
Red just stood there silently but his demeanor had changed. He was no longer annoyed, he almost seemed sympathetic. He turned back towards the audience and said, “Charles, bring a couple of chairs and a glass of the good stuff. We’ve got a situation.” He turned back to Jean and said,” Ms. Goodspring, um, well, let’s just wait for Charles to get back before we continue our conversation. Okay?”
“Okay.”
There was more of the awkward silence as Red looked at his fingernails and Jean continued to be mesmerized by Red’s wondrous hair.
“Do you mind if I ask a question?” said Jean.
“I’d prefer if we waited for Charles to arrive before diving into any questions,” replied Red.
“Oh, it’s not about the audition,” said Jean.
Red paused and studied Jean before answering as if to see if she was lying to him. “Okay then. Ask away.”
“What kind of shampoo do you use? Your hair is amazing.” Jean gushed.
Red just smiled and said,” Oh, thank you but I don’t use shampoo.”
Jean was confused. “But your hair is so full of body. What do you wash it with then?”
“I don’t wash my…,” Red turned his head towards the audience, “Oh good! Here comes Charles now,” Red said.
Jean immediately heard the same heavy, plodding, determined footsteps coming towards her but instead of another short red-headed man, Charles was 7 feet tall if he was an inch. They were stark in their differences, where Red’s features were hard, Charles had the softest features she had ever seen on a human. Short cropped brown hair and the face of a baby. He was carrying two chairs in his left hand and a glass of water in his right.
“Wonderful, thank you very much, Charles, please just put them down,” said Red to his friend.
Charles nodded, placed the chairs facing each other, and handed Jean the glass of water. Jean smiled and thanked Charles who simply smiled back and then, with those same plodding, determined steps retreated into the audience.
“Please, have a seat,” Red said as he sat in the chair facing out towards the audience.
“Thank you, and I’m sorry, I know your friend’s name is Charles but what do I call you?” Jean asked.
“Oh, you can just keep thinking of me as Red since you seem comfortable with that, I’m fine with it,” Red said.
“How did you…I never said that out loud,” Jean said with a mix of surprise and embarrassment.
“It’s not important right now. What is important, right now, is me explaining a few things to you, well really just one thing but it’s a doozy. Please drink your water,” Red said with sympathy. Jean took a sip of water, realized how thirsty she was and how incredible this water tasted, and proceeded to down the glass without stopping.
“My God, that was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever drunk, this isn’t tap water is it?” Jean asked.
“No, we get it direct from the source,” Red said with a chuckle.
“I’ll have to come back again just for this,” Jean said sincerely.
“You’re welcome any time. But, let’s get down to business. Think hard, what’s the last thing you remember before being in the theater?” Red inquired.
Jean thought hard about her day. “I remember getting coffee, briefly speaking with a homeless man, and snow. Lots of snow,” Jean replied.
“Yes, the snow. So, no memory of the snowplow then?” Red asked sympathetically.
“What? No, what snowplow?” Jean asked with rising concern.
“The one that hit you,” Red said matter-of-factly.
“WHAT?!”
“The snowplow that clobbered you as you crossed that street with that venti, two-shot espresso six pump coffee from Starbucks in your hand. You’re, well, you’re no longer living in your human form, Jean Goodspring,” Red said. Jean just stared at Red as if not quite able to comprehend what he had just said to her.
“I’m…I’m dead?” Jean asked with a wavering voice.
Red seemed to sense her rising emotions and quickly added, “Only in the human sense. Your soul is still very much alive. That’s why we’re here today.”
Jean looked around once more at the grandiose theater that surrounded her. “Where exactly is here?” Jean asked.
“This is Casting. This is where we hold the auditions to determine what the next role for a soul will be.”
“Oh”, Jean said with alarm,” But I wasn’t prepared for an audition today and especially one that would determine my soul’s next job.”
“Therein lies the problem. From time to time Central Booking will drop the ball and someone like you will slip through to auditions without properly being prepped. It’s no fault of your own but without a proper audition we can’t move you on to the next phase,” said Red with as much sympathy as possible.
“What’s going to happen to me then?” Jean asked nervously.
“Well, as I said, this is unusual, but it has happened many times before. Central Booking has a lot on its plate. It’s happened enough that we do have options already in place,” said Red.
“We’re talking about God here, right? I thought God didn’t make mistakes,” Jean asked.
“That’s a human concept. The Director, while very good, still does make the occasional error. Just look at the Blobfish. No, nothing is perfect and that’s ok. Life, in the human form and beyond, is not meant to be perfect because it would be boring if it was, right?” Red said.
“Oh, I guess,” Jean simply replied.
“So, on the rare occasion that this happens, we have a couple of options. The first and preferable one for us is that we send you back into the lobby and you’ll wait there until we can get this sorted out and get you properly prepped for your audition,” Red said.
“That doesn’t seem that bad. How long would it take for you to sort this out?” Jean asked.
“In terms that you would understand? Probably around 6…”
“Oh, 6 minutes isn’t bad at all, I’ll do…”
“…00 to 700 years,” Red replied.
“that….Oh. Did you just say 600 years?” Jean asked with shock.
“Well, actually I said between 600 and 700 years. Time is….a little different here.”
“And I would just be sitting in the lobby that whole time?
“It’s a very nice lobby,” said Red.
“Oh…is there a tv or magazines or something I can do while I wait?”
“No, the lobby is a vast void of pure nothingness but it’s actually quite lovely.”
“Right, so….no tv. Got it. You said there was another option?”
“Yes, now we try to not use this one because it can sometimes cause complications for humans, but we can attach your soul to another. We call this Attachment. This would be a human currently on earth and essentially your soul would shadow them until we can sort this out,” Red said.
“Shadow them, kinda like a ghost?” Jean asked with rising curiosity.
“We don’t use that term but yes, like a ghost,” replied Red.
“So, I can haunt someone on Earth, or I can exist in a vast void of pure nothingness until Central Booking can prep me for my audition?” Jean asked with a smile.
“If you choose Attachment you don’t have to haunt them, you can also do good stuff, as well,” said Red.
“Like what?” Jean asked.
“Many things. Help them find things like keys, that one seems especially popular. Sometimes you can keep them from making bad decisions like what humans would call a guardian angel, that’s a good one. Sports, sports is a big one but not a very effective one,” Red replied.
“But I can choose to haunt them too, right?” Jean asked earnestly.
“Well, yes.”
“Will haunting effect my next role?”
“No, we usually consider Attachment as a perk and not a determinate,” said Red.
Jean sat there silently for a few minutes contemplating her options. Did she want to return to Earth and haunt someone (secretly Jean had already decided that if given the choice she would choose her ex-husband who had made her life a living hell) or exist in a void of pure nothingness for the next 600 to 700 years? In the end it really wasn’t a hard choice for Jean Goodspring.
“Do I get to choose who I get attached to?” Jean asked sheepishly.
“If you wish or if you don’t have a particular person in mind, we can attach you to someone that we feel is compatible with your soul,” said Red.
Jean smiled, “That’s interesting. And will I be able to, like, do stuff?”
“What kind of stuff?” Red asked.
“I don’t know. Small stuff.”
“To mess with the human?”
“That’s within your power,” Red smirked.
Jean and Red sat there for a moment as Jean contemplated her options.
“Do you happen to know Leonard Penny?”
“Leonard Penny, as in your ex-husband Leonard Penny? The Leonard Penny who lives at 619 Blue Jay Way, works as a corporate tax attorney, and is married to De…”
“Yup! Yup, that’s the one,” Jean said cutting Red off.
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Red said.
“So, hypothetically, if I choose Attachment then I could choose to attach to Leonard Penny, and you’d make that happen?” Jean asked.
“Hypothetically? Yes, I could make that happen.”
It was at that moment that Jean Goodspring knew she was going to enjoy the afterlife.
The End.
