Page 17 of Forget About Me

We spend the next few minutes figuring out a time to meet, which isn’t easy. She works for her mom, like I work for my dad, plus she has her kid’s schedule and I’m still performing half the week. After exchanging phone numbers, I head toward the van, thinking again about asking Lucy if she’d train Puck.

Tony’s words echo in my mind.She’s my little sister, you asshole.

I ignored Tony’s wishes in the past with disastrous results.

Maybe this is my second chance. A chance to make things better instead of worse.

Friday morning, I’m on the stage of Shakespeare Boston’s new winter home—a beautiful stone building that used to be a church—waiting for the signal to begin. For this callback audition, the lights in the audience are dimmed, but not completely dark.Two Gents’director whispers to the stage manager. A handful of others cluster near them in folding chairs, including Deb. She gives Bella and me a big thumbs-up.

We spent a couple hours rehearsing this scene, using the ping-pong technique I learned in a clowning class in college. Each of our lines is punctuated by a crisp head turn either to the other actor, Puck or the audience. It’s like throwing a ball back and forth. I hope I remember the choreography because if we hit it right, I think it’ll prove that we have what it takes to play this iconic pair of fools. All Puck has to do is sit still. Hopefully, that won’t be too much to ask.

Glancing down at the dog in question, who for now sits calmly to my left, and over at Bella, who’s bouncing on her toes to my right, I grip the walking stick I snagged from my dad’s closet, an important prop. I’m wearing the Marine jacket and baggy cargo pants. Bella’s convincingly boyish in wide trousers and a boxy top with her hair in a low ponytail, a black cap on her head, and no makeup on her face. Puck looks like himself.

“Right. Sorry for the delay.” Nick Dorset’s Northern Irish lilt fills the hall. “Let’s see what you two—uh, three—have worked up.”

Puck yawns loudly, which gets him a laugh from our small audience. Good way to start. I raise an eyebrow at Bella, and she nods. I exit stage left with Puck and re-enter to start the scene.

From the moment Bella/Speed greets me/Launce with “‘Launce! By mine honesty, welcome to Milan,’” everything rolls along just as planned. We get laughs left and right.

When I say, “‘Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will! if he say no, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will,’” Bella and I snap to Puck, who stoically ignores us. In perfect sync Bella and I look at each other, back at Puck, then back at each other. Bim, bam, boom. Finally, Bella looks straight at Nick to announce, “‘The conclusion is then, that it will,’” earning a loud cackle from the director.

I’m riding the high only attained by making an audience laugh when disaster strikes. Just before the end of the scene, someone drops something backstage. Puck jumps up, lunges toward the wings and lets out a series of loud yaps. I get him back under control while staying mostly in character. We finish gamely, but I fear that all our hard work might have been undermined by the one canine flap.

“It went great,” Bella whispers after we exit.

“Sorry about that,” someone mumbles from the darkness.

“It’s okay,” I answer. To Bella I mutter, “If he’s going to be an actor, he’s got to learn to stay focused.”

“I think we’ve seen what we need to, thank you both,” the assistant stage manager calls out, dismissing us.

“Okay, thanks.” Bella sticks her head around the curtain and waves as another pair of actors heads up to do their bit. I don’t know them, but they look more the part. I’m not sure if having been in one show with the company helps us or not.

Back out in the hallway, I whisper an apology to Bella. “I’m sorry. I hope Puck didn’t screw that up for you.”

“Are you kidding? That was so fun. And I’m sure they get that he’s a dog.”

I set him on the floor, and he immediately flops onto one side and yawns. I wish I was so nonchalant about auditioning. “Well, yeah, but obviously something like that would be a problem in a performance.”

Bella squats to pet him. “Yeah, but you haven’t really trained him yet, right? How long could that take?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I guess if I get the role, I can always have the empty leash as a backup, like they originally wanted. He’s been so good, so far. I was getting excited about the idea of working with him. That’s weird, huh?”

“No, not at all. He’s a funny little guy. I mean, look at this face.” After one last pat, she stands and squeezes my upper arm. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I have to change into girly clothes and doll up this face before I go read for Julia.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize you were called back for both roles. Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ve got some stiff competition in that fresh-out-of-college new girl, but hey, you never know.” She smirks and trots down the hall.

I look down at Puck. “What happened back there, boy?” He just wags his tail. “Not sure if I should be talking to you or not. If I’m an actor preparing for a role, it’s not as crazy.” He almost looks as if he’s considering an answer before he drops his head back to the floor. “Yeah, I wish we could just lie around until tonight’s show, but it’s back to work for us. We’ve got to get to the shop.”

After a couple hours of heavy lifting and battling Boston traffic, I pull into the driveway back at home. As I climb the stairs to my apartment to grab some dinner before heading to the outdoor theater, the lively click of nails keeps pace with my heavier tread, a comforting sound I’m getting used to.

“Arf!” A week ago all his barks sounded the same, but I’ve learned that this one means he’s more than ready for his dinner.

On the way to the kitchen, I notice the blinking light on the answering machine. Adrenaline has my heart racing and my gut dropping. It’s always nerve-racking waiting to hear about an audition, but since I put up “Lost Dog” signs around the neighborhood, I’m equally anxious that it might be Puck’s owner calling to claim him.

Funny. Lucy worried I’d abandon this dog. Now, I don’t want to let him go. I put off listening to the message, filling the bowl with kibble and giving him fresh water.

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