Winning is Everything (46 page)

89 

“Here’s Mother now!” Elliott Senior beamed as he turned and saw his wife standing in the entranceway to the living room the following afternoon.

Mrs. Bramer had done her best for Kip and hoped she looked presentable. She had, indeed, combed her hair, put on makeup, zipped herself into an old red party dress, worn her jewels.

“Don’t you look nice!” said Kip, at the fireplace with Ellenor.

“I do not look nice!” insisted Mrs. Bramer. “I’ve lost so much weight, this dress hangs on me like I was a coat rack. My lipstick doesn’t match my dress, and my hair had so many knots in it, I’m thinking of shaving it all off. Still, I was promised a beautiful meal with my son, my bulldogs, my husband of the last eight thousand years, and Elliott’s new friend….” Mrs. Bramer crossed the living room and walked right up to Ellenor, greeting her with open arms, saying, “The problem with madness, darling, is that it requires so much selfishness, so much constant attention. But enough about me, young lady. Let’s talk about
you.
What do you think of my red dress?”

“Very pretty,” said Ellenor, returning Mrs. Bramer’s affectionate hug. “I’m Ellenor Robinson.”

“I figured you weren’t the turkey.” Mrs. Bramer smiled.

“How about some pâté, Mother?” asked Elliott Senior. “And a glass of champagne?”

“Sounds too divine!” said Mrs. Bramer. “Won’t the alcohol interfere with my Placidil?”

“I think you’ll be okay with one small glass,” said Elliott Senior. “Besides, it’s Thanksgiving!”

Mrs. Bramer whirled away from Ellenor toward her husband. Going toward him with open arms, she repeated her dramatic affectation from the previous night: “And I have so much for which to be thankful!”

Kip’s parents hugged and Ellenor realized Kip had inherited his theatrical flair from his mother.

Mrs. Bramer bent down and individually greeted each of the bulldogs sniffing at her feet. “My little babies!” she cried as she patted six wiggling bodies. She looked over at her husband. “Have you set little places at the table for the puppies?”

“No,” said Elliott Senior. “I thought we’d have a more conventional Thanksgiving this year—just four adult people!”

“How mundane!” Mrs. Bramer said with a yawn as she patted fuzzy bulldog heads.

“I better check the turkey!” said Ellenor, on her way out of the room.

“I’ll go with you,” said Kip, following.

“Isn’t Carlotta cooking dinner?” asked Mrs. Bramer.

“Carlotta,” snapped Elliott Senior, “was three maids ago.”

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Bramer snapped back. “But she cooked the meanest turkey!”

“Francine got everything ready yesterday,” said Elliott Senior. “All we have to do is warm it up.”

“I’m a sucker for old-fashioned holidays,” said Mrs. Bramer. “Maybe I should have worn my Pilgrim hat.”

“Everything’s almost ready!” Kip announced. “We’ll eat in ten minutes.” He went back into the kitchen to help Ellenor get the meal ready.

“A stranger in my kitchen?” asked Mrs. Bramer. “The girl stays over one night and already she’s rearranging my pots and pans?”

“Did you think you’d be well enough to have cooked the entire meal?” Elliott Senior asked the question like he was talking to a child.

“Cook?” Mrs. Bramer asked with disdain. “Sometimes I’m not sure which of us is crazier! Don’t you know anything? One of the few advantages of having bats in the belfry is that you never have to lift a cookie cutter in the kitchen. I’ll just take a seat over here next to the venison pâté while we wait until dinner is served.”

Jean Bramer flopped into a large easy chair. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked her husband.

“I was just wondering how well you’re going to behave this afternoon,” Elliott Senior answered sharply.

Jean Bramer brought her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. “What exactly is it you don’t like about my schizophrenia?” she asked. “Wasn’t it you who always used to say two can live as cheaply as one?”

They ate in the dining room, Elliott Senior, Mrs. Bramer, Kip, and Ellenor sitting at the table; Amanda, Sybil, Elyot, Wildman, Lillie Lang-tree, and Lady Bracknell sitting on the floor, panting at Mrs. Bramer’s feet.

Ellenor found it a rather unusual meal. Mrs. Bramer had filled up on venison pâté, and so, rather than eat, she spent the meal feeding turkey with all the trimmings to the six bulldogs.

Elliott Senior chose to ignore his wife’s behavior, grateful she was at least not smearing the walls with cranberry sauce, and spent the meal continuing his never-ending discourse on How to Best Change the World.

Coffee was served in the living room, in front of the fireplace. Three of the adults sat on the couch. Mrs. Bramer lay sprawled across the floor, hugging the dogs.

In a few minutes, she had fallen asleep.

Kip helped his father carry her back upstairs, where they put her in bed.

“Was probably all the excitement,” Elliott Senior said as they walked back into the living room. “She rarely comes downstairs for meals, you know.”

“I know,” said Kip.

“Now, then.” Elliott Senior walked over to the bar. “Who will join me for a cognac?”

“No, thanks,” said Kip.

“I will,” said Ellenor, standing and walking over to the bar.

“I think we’re going to leave first thing in the morning,” said Kip.

Elliott Senior looked up from pouring the cognac. “You’re not staying the rest of the weekend, as planned?”

“I think not,” said Kip, sitting down in front of the fireplace. “I’m anxious to get back to the city. I have trouble handling myself in front of Mother … I never know what’s going to set her off.”

“But she’s been so looking forward to having you here.”

“I don’t know,” said Kip. “I think our presence has gotten her slightly agitated. She was getting a little manic during dinner. You’d better keep a careful watch on her.”

“Why not stay just till Saturday?” asked Elliott Senior. “We could maybe all go out to dinner and then to a movie. Your mother would like that. I could make a few calls, try to get us some theater tickets. There’s some good things playing now in Philadelphia.”

“A little late to be getting tickets for this holiday weekend, Dad,” said Kip. “Anyway, I want to get back to New York. The other guy we room with has been real morose lately. Ellenor and I should get back there, cheer him up.”

“But …” Elliott Senior fought to say something that might make Kip change his mind. He was so grateful for his son’s company. “Your mother needs cheering up also,” said Elliott Senior.

“I know,” said Kip. “But we’ve got to get back. I’ve got work to do.”

“Work?”
asked Kip’s father, like it must be some kind of a joke. “What kind of work?”

“Some auditions, some callbacks coming up,” said Kip. “I want to be prepared.”

“Show business!”
huffed Elliott Senior with disdain. “What a waste of time. You’ve got to get out of this acting thing, Kip. It’s ridiculous.”

Kip didn’t bat an eyelash as he stood up to his father. “I enjoy it, Dad.”

“Great!” said Elliott Senior. “And who said life is to be enjoyed?”

“Me!”

“Sure.” Elliott Senior raised his voice. “You and the rest of your hand-it-to-me-on-a-silver-platter generation. You should remain here in Chestnut Hill for the rest of the holiday … here, with your mother … where you belong!”

“I think I’ve seen enough madness for a while, thank you!” Kip shouted.

“All right, all right …” Elliott Senior raised hands of capitulation. “Suit yourself. I only thought …”

“I know.” Kip calmed down. “I didn’t mean … It’s just that… well, every time she’s in one of these states, neither really better nor yet sick enough to warrant sending her away again, it frightens me because it makes me wonder how many years I’ve got before I’ll be spending my Thanksgivings under the table feeding turkey to the dogs.”

Ellenor looked at Kip and tried to smile encouragingly. “You’re much too crazy to ever be that crazy.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Kip asked.

“Then they’ll have to find us a double-rubber room with a view,” said Ellenor. “Because if you’re going to insist on being crazy, just know that I’m going to be right there with you, holding on until you get over the explosions!”

Kip and Ellenor hardly spoke the entire ride back to New York. He wasn’t sure if the exposure to his family hadn’t changed her feelings about him, but she had actually come away from the experience loving him more than ever.

Monday morning, right after the Thanksgiving weekend, Ellenor picked up the telephone and began calling everyone in town she knew who was at all connected with the business, inquiring as to what was around.

When she heard that the off-Broadway production of
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
was looking for a lead replacement, she stayed glued to the phone for hours, contacting everyone she knew to get Kip an audition.

Finally, a friend who knew an agent whose cousin worked for the play’s producers agreed to talk with the director and set up an appointment for Ellenor’s friend the actor.

Kip and Ellenor went over the scene together day after day, and by the time they both traveled down to the Village for the audition, Kip felt prepared, even relaxed.

There were thirteen other actors reading for the part.

“None of them look as right as you,” Ellenor whispered to Kip as he was filling in the lengthy questionnaire handed him by one of the stage managers.

Kip and Ellenor had been sitting in the green room just under an hour when the assistant stage manager opened the door and called out, “Kip … Bramer!”

Ellenor saw the fear in Kip’s eyes and she grabbed his hand and said, “Hey, relax. It’s just a first audition. You’re more than ready. You’ll be fine.”

Kip walked out onto the stage and stood next to a standing naked light bulb, the main source of light within the auditorium.

“Bramer?” came a voice from the darkened theater.

“Right!” said Kip.

“The monologue, please. Whenever you’re ready.”

Kip was ready. He looked around the set and began the speech, announcing a baseball game that existed only in the character’s mind.

“What else have you done, Kip?” a husky voice asked when he had finished.

“Did you get my résumé?” Kip asked.

“Got it right here,” answered the voice.

“Right,” said Kip softly. “Well …” He began the customary bullshit: “some soap-opera work. Summer stock. Lots of commercials.”

“Anything else?” asked the voice in what sounded like a disappointed tone.

“Uhm, studying with Wynn Handman. Currently, I mean.”

“Okay, Kip. You look real good. Thanks for coming down!”

And it was over.

Kip walked back to the green room to get Ellenor.

“How’d it go?” she asked, running over to him.

Kip shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”

The next day Ellenor called her friend who had arranged the audition. She found out that the producers had looked at one hundred and thirty-seven actors for the role over the past few weeks. They had liked the way Kip looked but had felt so-so about his reading. In any case, he was to be one of the twenty-three actors asked to return.

Kip went over the monologue again and again. He performed the scene for Ellenor. For Gary. He performed it for himself in the bathroom mirror. He performed it before a make-believe audience in his living room.

Four days later, when he returned to the theater, he felt as confident as if he were heading straight for a collegiate wrestling match.