The woman I called Grammadame never hinted that she knew I wasn't cut out for the stage. In every way, she treated me like a star. She called me "dahling" and the scripts I wrote "mahvelous."
Behind a vinyl curtain strung between lamps with chairs in front, I cast her as the lead, and spent most of the show watching. I never guessed that she knew I belonged behind the stage or in front, not on.
She took the scripts I wrote and threw herself at them. I saw her as an icon on a nineteen-forties poster: perfect in blocks of color with bold words surrounding her. There was war everywhere but L'Royale Theater.
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