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Cordelia, which could easily be a mannequin of sentimentality.
    Why not Kathy?
    James moved to strike her name from the list of people who could be counted on for the tech crew.
    But his hand stopped itself. And then, sitting there numbly, James wrote Lauren Holland beside Cordelia.
    He was shaking. He stood up and walked over to the dark window. Across the yard, he saw Mrs. Johnson at her sink. Washing up after some late snack, no doubt. He thought of all the years his wife had spent washing dishes. He thought of the times back when they were first married when they’d eat popcorn and drink beer while watching the late movie. All that had to be worth something. It was worth at least this much: that he had to shut his eyes against the onrush of guilt.
    He couldn’t have mistaken the looks that the girl had given him in his office, catching his eye and holding it deliberately, for two or three beats too many.
    Silently he recited Lear’s lines. Howl, howl, howl, howl.
    And he cried out silently, Oh, God. It’s my life, isn’t it?

8
    “Cherry told me that it’s going to be the tragedy of King Lear on stage, and the Comedy of Errors up in the booth,” David was saying.
    “Oh, you know how he always has to create this atmosphere of panic to work in,” Melanie said. “That’s his style. Let out a gasp, and then get going. Every opening night has to be the maiden voyage of the Titanic, so he can be the Unsinkable Molly Brown.”
    “You mean the Unsinkable Nelly Brown,” Mike said.
    “Why are you always picking on Mr. Cherry?” Melanie asked. “I think he’s really very discreet—compared to Miss Eddy, for instance.”
    “Who’s Miss Eddy?” David asked.
    “The biggest queen in Cambridge,” Mike replied. “When the Harvard freshmen arrived last fall, she had to go into the hospital, with heart palpitations.”
    “Hey, how come Jonathan didn’t want to play the Fool?” David wanted to know. “He’s got a good singing voice. And that kid Riddiford cast is stiff as cardboard.”
    “How should I know?” Mike replied. It always amazed him that David, like so many others, thought that homosexuals knew everything there was to know about each other. “He’s the right size,” David went on. “He’s got that boyish look Riddiford said he wanted. I remember distinctly him saying that he wanted the Fool to be a boy.”
    “Like Mr. Cherry wants a boy to play the fool,” Melanie added.
    “I thought I was the one who was always picking on Mr. Cherry,” Mike said.
    Shrugging, Melanie said, “Well, when you’re handed a line like that one.”
    Mike couldn’t help but smile at her.
    “By the way,” he said, “who was that Swedish-looking kid who signed up to work on lighting?” Except for a weak chin, the kid was sort of attractive, and Mike has seen Mr. Cherry sizing him up.
    “I have absolutely no idea,” Melanie said. “Listen, I’m still in a daze from this afternoon.”
    The Lear cast list had been posted at 2:00 P.M. It was now five-thirty, and Melanie, Mike, and David were sitting in a bar waiting for Paula and Kathy.
    “It is kind of hard to swallow,” David agreed. “Lauren playing Cordelia. Jesus. With that Bacall voice of hers. And her height. Christ, he’ll have to fold her up to carry her on stage.”
    “You know I kind of hoped he’d cast Kathy as Cordelia,” Mike said.
    “So did I,” Melanie replied. “But it takes more than talent, ya know. On top of talent you gotta have luck, and chutzpah. Or you have to put out. Maybe you need things we don’t even know about yet. Maybe you have to do things we can’t even imagine.”
    “I’m getting depressed,” David said. He began to finger a saltshaker contemplatively.
    “Oh, come on, David,” Melanie admonished him. “We’re not in the mood for moods. Why don’t you just put something on the jukebox. I’d like to hear the Stones. ‘Satisfaction’ or something.”
    “If we have to have anything on at all, I’d rather