Queen Margaret

Rose dreamed she had to play Queen Margaret in RICHARD III.

You’re Queen Margaret now, Ben said. Somebody’s sick.

Obi Wan Kenobe, you’re our only hope? she guessed.

Suddenly she was onstage in her pajamas, taunting Queen Elizabeth for making bird noises at her.

“Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune,
why strewst thou sugar on that bottled spider,
whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?”

There was a round of applause from a faceless audience--a nightmare audience of coats on clothes hangers and paper plate faces that moved jerkily. Rose bowed deeply. She was sure the audience was manipulated by puppeteers Then she realized they were the coat-hanger audience who came to life in E. Nesbit’s THE ENCHANTED CASTLE, a book she had read as a child.

She woke up stifling a scream.

Whoa there. It’s only me. You were dreaming, Ben said.

Rose burst into tears and put her arms around Ben. She slowly took in reality. She was not onstage but in the backyard under a blanket. Some horrible bird was chirping at her from a power line, a crow. Caw caw.

That bird, she said. In my dream it was Queen Elizabeth cueing me to say my lines.

What?

I had to play Queen Margaret. I was reciting her actual lines in my dream.

Shakespeare OD, said Ben. It’s a good thing I used to be a doctor. I prescribe plenty of liquids and bed rest.

Couldn’t we just sleep under the trees? It’s so lovely here. And soon it will be winter.

Ben lay down on the blanket beside her. Let’s sleep, he said. While he spooned her, he babbled about his day. Paper work, meetings, more paper work, something in court, an argument with a judge who hated him, and something else in court. Rose let it all wash over her. She half drowsed. She felt so sick. She couldn’t breathe. She found a wad of Kleenex in her pocket and wiped her nose. She was shocked when Ben said, And then my ex dropped in at the office.

Oh no, she said.

It was impossible to hate Ben’s ex. Nope. Couldn’t be done. Rose had tried. Ben’s ex, Dorrie, was a frail woman who had been in and out of mental hospitals for years. After she left Ben, she moved to Seattle and lived on the streets for a year. Why Seattle? Nobody knew. Then a relative brought her home. She lived in an efficiency in a rough neighborhood.

How is she? Rose asked. Your perfect mate. The only woman who knows more Shakespeare by heart than you.

She was reminiscing about living on the streets, said Ben. Says she hates it here. Misses living in a cardboard box or something.

Oh, shut up. It probably is better than that apartment house. Did you give her any money?

Ben yawned. Yeah. You don’t mind, do you?

No. Maybe you could give her a part in your play. Did you think of that, you idiot?

No. She might crack up.

Even if she cracked up, she’d remember her lines. Don’t be such a moron.

Well, I’m not getting in touch with her. She doesn’t have a phone.

I’ll go knock on her door tomorrow. She’ll be thrilled.