I was stuck. Such a pain in my stomach. Some would call it butterflies; I call it fear and anxiety. I didn’t want to speak, to move, to act.
But, as a major actor in the play, I had to. I could not let everyone down – the other actors, the director, my parents, the rest of the audience. There I was, onstage with my pretend Mama who was telling me what a fine man Papa was. And I froze. With this pain in my stomach.
I was ready to cry, to scream – but no! A bubble was coming up and was ready to escape! It wasn’t what I hoped for, the next line in the play. It wasn’t what I thought it would be, a scream, a cry, a sob. No! it was laugh! In a very important scene – no, THE most serious scene in the play – and I was stifling a laugh! Oh, no!
I held it in as best as I could, screwed up my face into a concerned look while hiding the out loud laugh, and limped through the final night of I Remember Mama on my 17th birthday.
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