the blind side of love | chaennie

twenty

"I'm going to pretend I got all that."

"It's not important. So, anyway, he told Jinyoung's sister that the Santivell Theater is hosting a series of semi-open call auditions. There's going to be a bunch of different directors there. And it's all pretty upscale. So basically, to find out about it, you have to either be someone in the know, or know someone in the know, or ... well, you get the idea. It's not being advertised in public channels. So basically, the cream of the crop of desperate New York actors are going to be there." Lisa smiled brightly.

"I'm guessing that includes you?"

"Hell yeah. Jinyoung told me as long as you know where and when it is, you're set."

"That's really great, Lisa," Roseanne said, grinning.

"And of course you're coming with me."

"And why would I do that?"

"Uh, let's see ... moral support? And because you're my lucky charm. Every play I ever got, you were at the audition."

"That's so not true."


"It's mostly true."


"Fine. When is this little shindig, so I can clear my totally busy schedule."

"In two weeks. December 16th. Noon. Santivell Theater."


"Done."

Lisa bounced in her chair. "I can't wait. You know, Jinyoung said there might even be some movie directors there. Can you imagine?"

Roseanne smiled at her best friend's enthusiasm. Lisa had the talent, the looks, and the ambition. All she needed was the right person to see her at the right time. Maybe this would be Lisa's big chance.

Secretly, she hoped her own big chance would come soon too, as she stared down at the assortment of depressing red circles. She grabbed the phone receiver and clicked it on. "Time to schedule some interviews."

-

Winter always reminded Jennie of what she'd lost. She couldn't remember a single Christmas from when her mother had been alive, but she liked to believe that they had been happy times. She liked to think that her father, back then, had been a better person, less of a work-a-holic, someone devoted to both wife and child. Her grandmother would have been there, too. The family mansion would have been lit with Holiday cheer and decorations, instead of the cold, depressing house it had become.

The Christmases Jennie could remember hadn't been all bad, yet her memories weren't particularly good. Her father had been absent for a few of them, leaving her in the company of Dara and Yeji. Her grandmother, who resided in the guesthouse, always stayed away on Christmas mornings. Jennie suspected that Christmas, for her grandmother, was difficult. She had both a daughter and a husband to mourn, and her own happy memories to revisit in private.

Jennie would sneak off to visit later in the day. They would have dinner and talk about Jennie's gifts. Her grandmother would give her something. Always just one thing, despite her endless amounts of money. Her grandmother's presents were always Jennie's favorite, no matter how many others had come in the day.

The last Christmas Jennie got to spend with her grandmother, her gift had been an ankle bracelet. Jennie had put it on the moment she'd received it and not taken it off until the day her grandmother died. That day, she took it off. That day, she twirled it around in her hand and found, for the first time, the inscription: "Action is the antidote to despair."

Joan Baez. Jennie had always liked that quote, and it pained her that she'd not known the inscription was there, and that her grandmother had watched her put the ankle bracelet on, and not said anything.