Page 15 of Intermission
“Thanks, but no.” Mom gives me a half-smile. “Don’t forget about the coffee.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“’Kay.” Oops. I swallow. “Are you taking Janey with you?”
“Yep.” Mom nods and heads for the door.
I fill the coffee maker before seeing to the rest of my breakfast. By the time Mom returns from her morning run, I’m showered, dressed, and sitting at the table, ear buds in and music on.
Mom peers around my cup of herbal tea to look at my playlist. “What are you listening to?”
I pull one ear bud out. “The Sound of Music.”
“I didn’t think you liked that one.”
“It’s okay. Not my favorite.” I’m surprised she remembers. “I’m listening to it for the Leopold Community Theatre audition. Remember? It’s this morning.”
“Right. You mentioned that.” Mom takes a sip of her coffee. “Mmm. This is good, Faith.”
“It looks like tar.”
“As it should.” She takes another sip. “Sounds like your dad’s up.” Mom leans back in her chair. “The paper’s on the kitchen counter!” She turns back to me. “What time do you need to leave?”
“Around nine. The auditions don’t start until ten o’clock, but I want to be early.”
“Well, good luck.”
My eyes round. I wince.
“What?” She sets her cup down. “What did I say?”
“You said ‘good luck.’” I shudder, maybe a little more than necessary.
“And? I may not be into all this artsy business of yours, but can’t a mother wish her daughter good luck?”
“Well, sure. Just... not like that. Remember when I studied the Scottish play in Mrs. Whetstein’s A.P. lit class last year?”
“Which Scottish play?”
“TheScottish play.”
“She meansMacbeth.” Dad’s slippers make aslish-slishsound as he crosses the slate floor from the kitchen to the breakfast room.
“Thank you.” I tilt my head, acknowledging Dad’s unexpected Shakespearean Theatre knowledge.
“Oh, good.” He takes a seat and reaches for the carafe. “Coffee.”
“Anyway,” I continue, “Mrs. Whetstein taught us about theatre superstitions. One famous superstition is that you’re not supposed to say the name of the Scottish play when you’re in a theatre. Anotheris—”
“We’re not in a theatre.”
“Okay, okay.Macbeth. There. I said it. Happy?” I roll my eyes but only the slightest bit before I remember how much Mom hates it when I roll my eyes. “And another is that you should never, ever wish an actor good luck. Saying ‘good luck’ is consideredbadluck. That’s why people say ‘break a leg.’ It’s the law of opposites or something.”
“Well,thatmakes perfect sense.” Mom shakes her head, frowning. “So if I said, ‘Faith, I hope you fall, bump your head, get a concussion, and have to get nine stitches across the bridge of your nose,’ it would mean you would get the lead role?”
“Sweet!” I laugh. “But, no. It’s just a silly superstition. I don’t believe it or anything. But some people are superstitious in the theatre, so I don’t want to say something at auditions that’s going to make someone else freak out.”
