The Phonecall: A (Melo)Dramatic Scene, Written by a Narcissist

Time: A Tuesday. Election Day 2012.

Setting: A tea shop in SoHo

Celia (27-30), an actor who works in the shop, is a tiny Chinese-Jewish woman. Attractive in a cute and quirky way, she wears big, thick framed glasses. She has been antsy for over a week due to having taken part in the final callback for a Broadway show. The worst part, as every actor will admit, is the waiting. Celia has never been so close to a Broadway contract. Though she is consistently mistaken for (much) younger than she actually is, she is not a spring chicken. Time is ticking. Money is dwindling. Desire is rising. She leaves the shop floor to check her phone. The screen says: "1 missed call: Agent. 1 voicemail: Agent." Her heart rate rises rapidly. She goes into the bathroom and closes the door. The voicemail she picks up from her agent says: "Hi Celia, call me back." Her hands start to shake. The immediate thought of, "Oh my God, maybe I got it," is quickly replaced by the thought that, if it is bad news, she will have to go back onto the shop floor and smile at customers as if everything is not just fine, but great. She has done this before. It is not easy. The shaking has spread throughout her whole body and her armpits have broken into a sweat. She takes her trembling hand and dials her agent. She is having trouble focusing her thoughts when he answers.

Celia (working hard to control her voice from warbling): Hi, it's Celia.

Agent: Are you somewhere you can scream?

Celia: Um...I...what?

Agent: Are you somewhere you can scream?

Celia: I...um...I'm at work. 

Agent: ARE YOU SOMEWHERE YOU CAN SCREAM???

Celia (the ability to focus diminishing): Um...um...uh...I...I'm in the bathroom. Why? Tell me? Oh my God, why?

Agent: You're going to be in a Broadway show....!!!!!

She inhales ferociously and loudly. Silence. She doesn't scream. Silence. She holds her breath. Silence. She cannot remember how to exhale. Silence. Silence silence silence. She can only hear the disconnected sound of her heart pounding in her head. She stammers:

I can't breathe. I'm shaking. I'm shaking! 

Everything is fuzzy. A fuzzy blur. Jumbled. Like the pieces of a puzzle, unopened. Then, she has her first rational thought: "I am at work."

Celia: Um...I...I have to go back to work. I'm at work. I have to go back. I can't talk now. Can I call you later? I'll call you later. When I can talk.

Agent (laughing): Okay, call me when you are able to talk. 

Dazed, Celia goes back onto the shop floor. She cannot shout it aloud. She looks at her two colleagues. A smile the size of a frying pan spreads across her face as she softly says:

I'm...gonna...be...on...Broadway. (Silence. They stare at each other.) I think...I need to clock out and take lunch. She finally lets out a squeal. She has told someone. Which means it's real.  Hugging and squealing ensues.

Celia clocks out. She calls her agent. She calls her parents in Spain. Her Dad's first response is "MAZEL TOV!" She tells them to call her sister in Paris. She texts her best friend in London. She texts her cousin (in New York). She cannot call or text anyone else; she has no time. She still has tea to sell. She remains calm and carries on. The rest of her day is spent guiding customers through tea. When people ask how she is, she does not declare, "I JUST BOOKED MY FIRST BROADWAY SHOW!" She replies with still composure, "I'm fine, thank you." That evening, Obama is re-elected. Celia has far more important things on her mind. Like the fact that, after a lifetime of dreaming, wishing, praying, crying, dancing, fighting, loving, singing, acting, hoping, believing, and learning, she is going to sing, dance, and act on Broadway.

Time: The next day.

Celia wakes up. It is just like any other day. She steeps a cup of tea and quietly sips it while eating some biscuits. While watching a clip of the show she finds online, she starts to cry. A cry she didn't even know was on its way. Alone in her room, she starts to let herself believe that her biggest dream of all has become a reality. Silence. The tea sits. the computer runs. And the tears fall. When a dream comes true, it makes no noise.