DANCING ON THE TUNDRA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER IX
Just before Christmas break Terry auditioned for the next production which was to be presented in February. It was Christopher Fry's translation of Jean Anouilh's adaptation of Sophocles' "Antigone." Terry was hoping for a good part, but he was physically too small to play a messenger or guard, and too young looking to be cast as Creon or the narrator. That only left the role of Haemon, Creon's son. Unfortunately that part was given to a more experienced actor. When the cast list was posted on the call board his name was not on it. He turned to walk back down the hall, disappointment weighing heavily on him, when a deep voice called him.
"Terry Michaelson?" Terry turned to see Dr. Baker just emerging from the theatre office. "May I speak with you a minute?"
"Sure," he said and walked back to where the man stood. Terry wanted to run back to the dorm and hide in his room, but he knew better than to refuse a request from his department head. Much to his dismay, Dr. Baker was also the man who was directing "Antigone" and did not cast him. Terry was afraid that the man would placate him and try to assuage his ego by telling him why he wasn't cast. That was the last thing he needed to hear at the moment.
"I wanted to tell you what a good job I thought you did at auditions," the man began.
"Thank you, sir."
Baker picked up his brief case and the two of them began to walk down the hall together. "I'm sorry that you weren't right for any of the parts available. I would have liked to work with you in that capacity." Here it was, the speech he had dreaded. "However, I do have an idea for a non-speaking role in the production, if you're interested."
Terry couldn't believe his good fortune. "Sure. I'd be glad to do it."
The man smiled, the lines deepening around his eyes. He remembered many years back when he had been just as eager for a part. "Maybe you had better hear me out before you accept. You know the story line of 'Antigone?'"
"Yes."
"Well, I want to begin the show with a spectacle. I'm planning to stage the state funeral of Eteocles. We'll have eight guards carrying the dead body on a shield. They'll descend down a ramp into the orchestra pit which will be the tombs."
"I thought I'd be too small to play a guard," Terry said as they reached the stairwell.
"Actually, I was hoping you would play the dead body." Terry looked up at the man in surprise and said nothing. Dr. Baker laughed. "Well, that's about the reaction I expected to get. I know it's not a glamorous role but . . ."
"Yes, sir. I'd love to do it."
Now it was the older man's turn to be surprised. "That's wonderful," he finally said as they started down the stairs. "There won't be much for you to do other than this brief moment on stage so I was hoping you could also serve as assistant stage manager and be totally responsible for the guards. I'm planning to recruit some P.E. majors and football players to fill these roles and since most of them have never even been in our theater before, I know they'll probably need a nursemaid."
Terry hurried back to the dorm to call his parents and tell them he wouldn't be able to spend the whole Christmas break at home. School didn't resume until January 18, but Dr. Baker wanted to start rehearsals on the fourth. The show was to be entered in the American College Theatre Festival competition and he wanted as many rehearsals as possible to be able to polish a potentially winning production.
Next Terry had to arrange for a place to stay. The dorm was closed from December 22 to January 14 so he needed to find temporary lodging for almost two weeks. He decided to put up notes on the bulletin boards in the theatre building as well as checking with the campus housing office. In only a couple of days Wayne, the house manager from the last show, stopped him in the hall. Wayne's roommate was transferring to another university at the end of the semester so he had space in his two bedroom apartment if Terry wanted it. In fact, Wayne wanted Terry to find out if he could break his contract with the dorm and move in permanently. It sounded like a perfect solution to Terry's unhappiness with dorm life. The next day the two of them went to the campus housing office and later made an appointment with the Dean of Student Affairs. The Dean agreed to sign a waiver to the 'freshmen must live on campus' rule as long as Terry could get his house mother to agree.
"I don't understand why I should allow this," the woman said in her deep, gruff voice as she looked over the form. For the second time Terry sat in the Spartan living room, perched on the edge of an uncomfortable couch. "Why do you want out of this dorm so bad? I thought your problem with your roommate was solved when he dropped out of school."
"I have to stay some place while the dorm is closed anyway," Terry explained. "And besides, I can save a lot of money by moving into this apartment. The rent is considerably less than the dorm fees."
"An off-campus apartment doesn't provide the structure and organization you young people need during your first year away from home," the woman continued. "The last time you were in here it seems that we had a little discussion about your maturity. I don't think this is a wise move on your part."
"But that's not fair," Terry blurted out. As soon as he said it he realized that he sounded just like a spoiled high school kid. "I mean, I'd appreciate it if you would reconsider. Even if I don't move out of the dorm I'll still need someplace to stay during the semester break."
The woman was obviously impressed by the level of maturity in his modified request and finally agreed to sleep on the matter. He still left her suite feeling just as discouraged as if she had flatly said no. He wasn't sure what he would do now. He could probably still stay with Wayne during the interim, but he was excited about the chance to get out of the dorm completely. Since his run in with Todd he was a virtual outcast. The others on his floor seemed to avoid him, all except Brent. He at least was still willing to be Terry's friend.
The next morning Terry was trying to sleep late when he was awakened by a pounding on his door. It was finals week and he didn't have a test until early afternoon. "Who is it?" he yelled, not moving from his comfortable bed.
"Terry, it's Brent."
"Go away."
The voice at the door was persistent. "I've got to talk to you." Terry dragged himself out of bed and grabbed a robe to throw over his shoulders to combat the morning chill of the room. He padded to the door and turned the knob. Brent immediately burst into the room. "She's dead! She died last night!"
"What are you talking about?" he asked as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and tried to focus on his friend.
"Mother Barry. She had a heart attack and died last night."
"Damn, now I'll never get my approval."
Brent only blinked in surprise. "I thought you might be sorry that our house mother just died. Well, maybe you ought to go see the Dean. Since she's dead maybe he'll give you the approval you need." The boy turned and quickly left the room, slamming the door behind him.
This startled Terry. He couldn't understand his friend's reaction at first. None of them really knew the old lady, at least not nearly as well as he did. Everyone made jokes about Mother Barry. In fact, someone had written, "Mother Barry is in the next stall," on the wall of the bathroom next to the toilets. Terry quickly got dressed and decided to take Brent's advice about seeing the Dean. On his way across campus he began to think again about Mother Barry. He didn't like her. He didn't even respect her. After his incident with her when he went to her with his concerns about Gary, he was convinced that she didn't even care about any of the residents in her dorm. And yet he had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. For a minute he actually thought he was going to cry. Why should he get so emotional over a woman he disliked so strongly? Then Terry thought perhaps that was it. Perhaps he was upset because he did feel so strongly. His intense dislike was a strong enough emotion to prove that he did really care about her. In an odd way, he was going to miss the gruff old lady.
Terry managed to get all of his belongings quickly transferred to Wayne's apartment before leaving for Christmas vacation. It was a short break, but it seemed a lot longer since he was forced to spend the whole time at home, not having any friends to visit. Paula had taken on a part time job to help pay her tuition and stayed at the university over the break, not even coming home on Christmas day. In many respects Terry envied her. While he was home he fell right back into the role of the child who needed babying from his mother and had to abide by his father's strict rules. He was dragged to church on Christmas, New Year's Day and the Sundays around them. He didn't dare tell his parents that he stopped attending church for fear that they would bring him home immediately and enroll him as a day student at Holy Lady. Even though it was an all girl's school he was sure his father could somehow bully his way into their making an exception for him.
Finally, January 4 arrived and Terry was back at school, heading into the auditorium for his first rehearsal. True to his word, Dr. Baker had managed to obtain eight large, well built men from the phys. ed. department to play spear carriers. All they did was enter in the beginning of the show for the funeral procession and then make a token appearance on stage in the background just before intermission and again at the end of the show. They were really no more than living props. Terry's only scene was the funeral and so he was introduced as Eteocles and as the assistant stage manager who was responsible for the guards.
After being given an abbreviated rehearsal schedule Terry and the guards were sent downstairs to be measured for costumes. Dr. Barnes, the costume supervisor and designer was waiting with his 'harem.' This consisted of the two part-time paid costume assistants and a number of other girls who volunteered time in the shop. As Terry and his crew came downstairs, Dr. Barnes herded them into the men's dressing room. He showed them water color renderings of the guard costume. It was primarily a laced leather vest and skirt with leather strips. They also wore laced sandals that wrapped and tied just below the knees, and plumed helmets that almost completely covered their faces. Long, metal spears with bronze tips completed the picture.
Dr. Barnes gave Terry a tape measure and quick instructions, then left him with his eight charges. Terry felt nervous at being alone with these men. They were all around six feet tall and fairly well built with the broad shoulders and barrel chests of football players and wrestlers. His only experiences in the past with jocks had been extremely bad, but these guys seemed genuinely nice. They laughed and joked with each other while letting Terry measure their bodies and jot down the figures. Each man was free to go once he had been recorded. As Terry finished Dr. Barnes returned.
"Here's the list of measurements," Terry said as he handed the clipboard back to the costumer. "Do you have a sketch of my costume?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Dr. Baker and I are still negotiating that point," the man said.
A week later Dr. Baker blocked the funeral scene. He assembled all the guards, the principals, and Terry and planned out their entrances and movements. For the time being, until the prop department built the shield on which the body was to be carried, an old army surplus stretcher was used. Terry climbed on backstage and the guards in the company of the principals marched out the backstage door, through the lobby and in through the house doors. The funeral procession slowly came down one of the aisles of the auditorium, through the audience and up onto the stage. A man dressed as a priest of an ancient Greek religion swung a censor over the body, then the guards slowly carried the stretcher down a long ramp that had been built into the orchestra pit. Once out of sight they all exited through the pit door back into the basement. Dr. Baker was fairly pleased with them, giving them instructions as to how fast or slow to walk, to remain in step with each other, and to stay in character from the moment they entered the lobby to the moment they exited back into the basement.
School resumed and with it came a number of new and challenging classes, but Terry's main concern and excitement came from the show. One day he was called into the prop department to try out his shield. It was a large oval of three-quarter inch plywood that would be painted to match the much smaller shields the guards would carry on their arms. Small handles were mounted on the underside of the oval for the bearers to use. The man in charge of props sat the plywood oval on two saw horses so Terry could climb onto it and lie down. He stretched out to find it was just barely long enough to hold him, his feet hanging off the edge. "It'll do," the shop foreman said, then instructed him to go see Dr. Baker.
"You sent for me, sir?" Terry asked from the doorway to the chairman's office.
"Yes, Terry. Come in and close the door." Terry did as asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach. His paranoia told him that he had done something wrong. Why else would the man call him in? "I wanted to talk with you about the show and your role," Dr. Baker began. "I've been talking with John Barnes about costuming and makeup. I'd like to know how inhibited you are."
Terry sat for a moment, not sure what to say. "Well, if you mean would I be willing to wear something embarrassing, sure. It's not me; it's the character."
"Good," Baker said with a warm smile. "But wearing something wasn't what I had in mind. Would you be willing to do the part in the nude?" His question hit Terry like a ton of bricks, knocking the air completely out of him. "Now before you answer let me describe what I have in mind. I want a naked, dead body, or at least I want that impression. We plan to have you draped in a thin, semi-transparent cloth to give the impression of a shroud covering you from head to toe. The lights will be off in the house as you are brought down the aisle and on stage we'll be using dim blue light. No one in the audience will actually be able to see you. They'll just have the impression of a nude body."
"I see," he temporized, trying to think of how to respond to the director's question.
"If you're uncomfortable with this I can ask John to dye a white jock strap to match your skin color. I just thought we might save the trouble."
"Well if no one will actually see me," Terry said slowly, "I guess it would be okay."
"The only ones to see you would be your guards as you get on and off your shield," Baker said with a warm smile. "I'll let John know he's off the hook. When I asked about the jock strap you'd think I added ten more actors in full costume."
Terry spent some of his volunteer hours, that were required of his major, helping out in the costume shop and he quickly became used to John Barnes' irascible temper. The man was brilliant in design and construction but he tended to frighten people with his gruff manners. And yet Terry noticed he still seemed to retain his 'harem.' Why the girls didn't all flee was beyond Terry until he noticed that they just seemed to ignore Barnes. He was apparently all bark and no bite. Once Terry adopted this attitude as well he got on much better with the man.
Dr. Barnes had to dye jock straps for the other performers. Haemon wore a short tunic and the guards all had short skirts, so they all required undergarments that covered the essentials and matched the costumes in case they sat incorrectly and were accidentally seen. Terry got the task of helping with the dying since Barnes apparently had some problems with asking his girls to work on the men's undergarments. He realized how difficult it could be to get the colors to match, and no longer wondered at Barnes' temper tantrum over trying to dye underwear to match his skin color. That might well have proved to be an almost impossible task.
Terry found out soon after moving in with Wayne that his new roommate had ulterior motives for inviting him to live there. Wayne made it very clear that he liked Terry, and more than just as a friend. By now such behavior was not as frightening as it had been earlier in the year. But it still was not anything Terry wished to try. He made it firmly clear to Wayne that he was not interested. "Don't knock it till you've tried it," Wayne retorted.
"I have no interest in trying it," Terry answered sternly. "It disgusts me." He firmly punctuated his statement with the physical act of closing his bedroom door. Fortunately that was all it took. Wayne never again made a pass at him. If anything, the black upper classman did his best to be the open, friendly roommate. Terry, on the other hand, seemed to retreat behind a wall of fear. He wanted to be friends with Wayne, but his old terrors of guilt by association seemed to push him back, making him withdraw from social contacts.
Wayne, for his part, did not waste any time mooning over Terry. He was very pragmatic. He tried; he was rejected; he went on. In fact, Wayne tended to be very promiscuous. When he went on, he went on through a whole string of guys. If Terry had been embarrassed and upset by the one incident that happened in his dorm room, he now was being desensitized by his exposure to such incidents on a semi-regular basis. He couldn't imagine where Wayne picked up all the men he brought home, but it seemed like there was a different man every other night. Fortunately, Terry and Wayne had separate bedrooms, and Wayne did his entertaining in his own room with the door closed. Terry could turn up the stereo so he wouldn't hear anything, and they got along fine. Wayne's promiscuity troubled Terry, but the freshman convinced himself that it was none of his business.
As January passed and February began, the approach of the show grew more immediate. Terry and the guards were needed for more and more rehearsals. Finally with the technical rehearsals in the past, the night of final dress arrived. Dr. Barnes gave Terry instructions for applying Texas Dirt, a body makeup, to the guards. Since they had lots of exposed skin: bare arms and legs and partially exposed chests and midriffs, they had to wear the body makeup to appear sun bronzed on stage under the bright lights. The jocks were totally inexperienced with such things, so it fell to Terry to help them get into their makeup and costumes. For his own part, it was decided that Terry didn't need any makeup. His own pale complexion under the thin white gauze and the blue lights would certainly give the appearance of death.
Several of the guards had difficulty understanding how to fasten the sandals that laced up over their calves, so this duty also fell to Terry. He would first have to help apply the body paint by sponging the makeup onto the bare skin, then he would kneel down and carefully lace the sandals. The first rehearsal in costume and makeup, Terry had a difficult time coping with the situation. As he gently sponged the reddish colored liquid over the firm muscular bodies, he started to become aroused. He had to concentrate as hard as he could, focusing on the pristine white of the frozen tundra to stop his body's automatic response. But even this technique didn't seem to help when he knelt down and began wrapping the thin leather straps around the firm leg muscles. In a short time he soon had all the guards ready to go.
Dr. Barnes came into the dressing room and handed Terry a bathrobe and a thin piece of white chiffon about seven feet long. "Strip down and put on the robe," Barnes instructed. "Then when you get the cue, drop your robe, climb onto the shield and drape this over yourself. I'll have one of the girls run your robe back down to the basement for when they bring you out of the pit." Terry took the robe and stepped into the bathroom that was located just off the dressing room. He went into a stall and concentrated on relieving himself in the hope that his body would relax. The actual fear of lying naked in full view of the audience and other cast members did more than anything else to quell his arousal. He soon returned to the dressing room in his robe and sat on an empty chair, chatting with the guards while the principals finished their makeup and dressed.
The stage manager called down on the intercom to request 'places,' and the dressing room quickly emptied as the cast hurried upstairs to the stage. Terry and his entourage took their place by the stage door that led out into a corridor and eventually to the lobby. Terry climbed onto the plywood shield and sat, waiting for the moment when he had to slip off his robe and cover up with the transparent shroud. Finally, after an infinitely long five minutes, the stage manager cued them. Terry dropped the robe, laid back and pulled up the fabric cover. He was amazed at how cold the bare wood felt on his skin. "Here we go," one of the guards called and four of them lifted in unison, hoisting him into the air. Someone opened the door and they were off.
Terry closed his eyes and tried to breathe shallowly so his chest and stomach wouldn't move. He was doing quite well, and becoming accustomed to the gentle rocking of the slow steps of his bearers when they walked into the lobby and a breeze from the air conditioning vent caught the chiffon shroud and caused it to whisk away. Terry gasped. One of the four men almost dropped him in an attempt to grab the thin material and two of the other guards broke out of the line to chase it across the lobby. They ran back with it just as the procession reached the doors to the theatre. By this time everyone was giggling or trying valiantly not to. Dan, the bearer closest to Terry's head on his right side whispered, "Quite a show, Michaelson, but dead bodies don't blush." Terry knew he was bright red. He could feel the heat in his face. He peeked at the guard and caught the twinkle of his eye beneath the heavy greenish-bronze helmet. Then the two with the elusive shroud returned to cover him and the procession marched slowly into the house. "Stay in character," Dr. Baker yelled as the noticed them giggling as they came down the center aisle.
The group slowly filed down and onto the stage where the guards lowered the shield so the priest could swing his incense burner over the body. As he did so, a cloud of perfumed smoke engulfed Terry who had just taken a shallow breath. Before he could help himself, his lungs spasmed and he emitted a strangled, choking cough which caused the light weight shroud to fly up, away from his face. This brought peals of laughter from everyone on stage as well as half of the tech crew. "Keep going," Baker roared from the house. The cast quickly composed themselves and continued, the guards lifting the shield and carrying Terry down the ramp and into the dark orchestra pit. Soon Terry was again wrapped in his robe and sitting with the guards back in the green room.
The show continued on without a hitch and finally Dr. Baker called everyone upstairs for notes. Terry had slipped back into his clothes and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. He felt sure that he had ruined the performance. Dr. Baker began by mentioning the incident. "Terry, try not to breathe when the censor is swinging so close. And Phil," the man said as he turned to the priest, "keep the incense well away from the body. It'll still look the same from the house if you just swing it upstage. If you cause our dead body to cough tomorrow night, then we'll use a real dead body the following performance, yours." Terry almost fell from his chair. The wrath of Dr. Baker wasn't directed at him, it was directed at the man with the incense. In fact, if anything, the director seemed to be sympathetic to his plight. Slowly, his confidence began to build.
The notes continued, then everyone was dismissed to get out of costumes and makeup. Terry stood up to leave and heard Dr. Baker call him. "Technically," the man said, "this is our first nude scene in the history of the department. How did it go for you? You weren't too uncomfortable or nervous?"
"I was nervous but I guess it was okay. I'm really sorry about coughing."
"That's alright. It won't happen again." Dr. Baker made his statement so matter-of-factly that Terry knew he would die before he would repeat such a thing on stage. "I heard about the shroud blowing off in the lobby," the director continued. "Before the show tomorrow I'll speak to the ones carrying you. They should be able to tuck the fabric under the shield so they can hold it in place. Now go get a good night's sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."
Terry ran down the stairs to grab his jacket from the dressing room. As he went in most of the other actors were leaving. "Hey, Michaelson," a voice called. He glanced around to see Dan Beaumont stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and his hair dripping. He had obviously taken a shower to wash off the body makeup. "The palace guard is going down to the Mermaid's Lagoon for a couple of brews. You want to join us?"
Terry was flattered by the offer, but shook his head. "Thanks but I've go to go home."
Dan casually removed the towel from his waist and began drying his thick, curly black hair. Terry quickly glanced away, trying not to look at the beautiful nude body so near by. "Okay," Dan continued from under the towel, "but I don't know what we're gonna do without our fearless leader."
"What fearless leader?" Terry asked, aware that they were now the only two left in the dressing room.
Dan removed the towel and smiled at him. "You, Eteocles, you dummy. After all, it's your responsibility to keep us out of trouble. If I get drunk and can't find my way home it'll be your fault." Then Dan smiled lecherously. "Or do you have someone waiting for you back home."
"No," Terry quickly answered. He figured Wayne would probably be home with another man.
"Then come on, just for a little while."
"Okay," he finally relented.
"Keep me company while I get dressed and I'll drive you there." Dan slowly reached for his underwear. Again Terry found his body beginning to respond in a way he didn't like.