“Bethany, this is Kirk’s neighbor, Erika.”
“Nice to meet you, Bethany,” I said, extending my hand this time.
“Likewise,” Bethany said, shaking my hand.
“I’m glad to see that Kirk’s move into the Manhattan Plaza landed him a good neighbor.”
The door behind us opened, and another couple entered the apartment. Leslie’s attention immediately went to the newly arrived couple.
“Please, come in and enjoy yourselves,” Bethany said. “You can put your coats on the bed in the guest bedroom. It’s down the hall. The door’s open, so you can’t miss it.” With that, Bethany turned to greet the new couple.
Kirk said hello to a few more of his colleagues, constantly introducing me along the way. I smiled and shook more hands that evening than at most meet-and-greets. We finally deposited our coats and went back into the living room. Kirk found the dessert table and pulled out the pizzelles. Immediately, a couple of his colleaguesoohedandahhedat Kirk’s baking handiwork.
The next hour was a whirlwind of meeting new people and shaking hands. For the first time in years, I wasn’t “Erika Saunders–Broadway Star” or “Erika Saunders–Queen of the Cabaret.” I was just Erika, Kirk’s plus one. I hated to admit it, but it was nice to have a level of anonymity in a group of people. No one wanted an autograph. No one wanted to ask me if I knew “so and so” or if the gossip about “name your Broadway star” was true. We talked about completely different topics from the ones I’m used to discussing with industry types. We talked about the joys of dealing with kids and their parents.
Around 8:00, Leslie and Bethany broke out the main meal, which included matzo ball soup, Kosher beef brisket, latkes, challah bread, and sweet noodle kugel. I piled my plate high, and Kirk found a spot for us at a folding table with Damian, a colleague who taught art, and his boyfriend, Kevin, who was a doctor. Damian was a forty-something Black man dressed in a periwinkle sweater with a sloth dressed in a scarf and hat. Kevin wore a Darth Vader-Claus sweater. Immediately, their sweaters clearly differentiated their personalities. We talked about what we liked to do in the city. Kevin told us some highly entertaining stories about crazy cases that appeared in the emergency department. There was something amazingly nice about the sheer normalness of the evening. I don’t think I’d had one of these since I moved to the city. In my world, everyone had a connection to the entertainment industry. I’d almost forgotten that not everyone’s life revolved around auditions, openings, and closings. Most people in the city live perfectly normal lives.
“So, what do you do, Erika?” Damian asked between bites.
I’m very glad that I didn’t have a glass of wine to my lips, or I probably would have done a spit take. “I’m uhh…What I’m trying to say is…I’m kind of well—“
“She’s in between gigs at the moment,” Kirk helped me as I tried to recover.
“Oh?” Damian asked with interest.
“She’s a performer,” Kirk said, which sounded ridiculously vague and could have covered anything from birthday clown to pole dancer.
“What Kirk means is that I’m a Broadway actor and cabaret singer,” I said, using my usual tagline.
“Oh, really?” Damian said, putting his wine glass back down on the table. “Been anything I might have seen?”
First, I absolutely hate it when people ask me this question. How am I to know what the heck you’ve seen? Second, I never know how to answer this question. Do I start at the top of my resume and work my way down?
“I thought I recognized you,” Kevin said. “I totally love yourI Hate Men Cabaret!I caught all the highlights on YouTube. Don’t you remember her, honey?“ he said, turning to Damian. “She was the one who sang like every bitter, jaded song in the American songbook. She made Alanis Morissette look pleasantly even-tempered by comparison.”
A look of recognition crossed over Damian’s face. “That was you?”
“In the flesh,” I said. It only took a moment before both looked from me to Kirk and back to me again. They didn’t have to voice it. They were wondering if Kirk caused my man-hating. “In case you’re wondering, I’ve only known Kirk for about six weeks.”
“Ahh…” the gay duo said in unison.
Kirk looked at me with a “what was that about” look. Under the table, I patted his knee in my best reassuring way as I mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”
Thankfully, that was the closest brush to having my secret identity exposed for the evening. But being around ordinary people made me wonder if I was missing out on life. I’d spent so much of my life trying to be on Broadway. What if Broadway was never meant to be? In the words of the theater goddess herself, Patti LuPone, “I’m an actor, and an actor acts.” If I gave up acting, what would I be then? A washout? A has been that never was? Thousands of girls come to New York City every year with dreams of being on Broadway. I’ve made it farther in the business than most of them could ever dream. All things considered, I’ve made a decent run of things.
“What do you think, Erika?” Damian asked.
“Huh?” I said, trying to refocus on the conversation. My mind kept pondering the meaning of life.
“It’s been a rough week for her,” Kirk said. “I’m amazed she let me drag her out of the apartment tonight.”
“Tough week in the cabaret business?” Damian asked with a hint of genuine interest.
“Something like that. But I don’t want to talk about it. Sorry, if I’m a bit of a space cadet tonight, my mind is running in too many directions.”
“Oh, honey,” Kevin cut in as he reached out and grabbed my hand. “I’ve been there. Some days my little hamster wheel is running so fast, I can’t keep up with all the crap running around inside my head. This one,” he jerked his head at Damian, “said I should try meditating. Yeah, I don’t think so. All that means is I’m going to sit in a lotus position while the little hamsters run. On those dreadful nights when the hamsters won’t shut up, I have Special K.”
“What!” I said in shock. “Isn’t that some illegal club drug?”
