Versions of Faith

“My brother died,” said Faith Grayson into the phone, straining her voice to sound distraught.

“Oh my God, Faith,” said her manager, Janice Delaney, over the phone. “Of course, take the day off. Do you need to take the rest of the week?”

“No, no,” replied Faith. “A day should be enough.”

“Are you sure?” said Janice. “You’re probably still shaken up from the news. Take as much time as you need, dear.”

“Thank you for being so understanding, Janice,” said Faith.

“Of course,” said Janice. “What happened to him?” Faith pretended to give a wet, uneven breath from all the make-believe tears while she tried to form an answer. She was saved when Janice said, “Oh, you poor thing, what am I doing? You obviously don’t want to talk about it now. Take your time and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” said Faith, and she ended the call.

In her bathroom, Faith looked at herself in the mirror while occasionally glancing down at the paper in her hand to read, “Honey, around here I’m the law, I’m the order, and you’re the skid mark of this city.” She cleared her throat and said, “Honey – around here, I am the law, I am the order, and you’re the skid mark of the city.” She read the paper silently while mouthing the words. She ran her fingers through her hair, looked in the mirror, and said, “Hun, round here I’m the law, I’m order… I’m order?”

Two and a half hours later, Faith was sitting in a hallway on an uncomfortable chair, in a line of women who looked more or less like her. Faith and some of the other women were passing the time by staring off into space, while the rest of the waiting women were repeating their versions of the lines Faith had been reciting to herself earlier in her bathroom mirror. Her phone vibrated, and she saw it was a text from her father that read, “Good luck, Bunny. You’ve got this.” Faith didn’t bother replying, and she rushed back to staring off into nothingness.

A door in the hallway opened, and a woman speed-walked out and continued down the hall, rubbing her eyes along the way. A moment later, a man emerged from the room and read off of a clipboard, “Faith… Grayson? You’re up.”

In the audition room, Faith stood before a table where two men and a woman sat, ready to judge her. “Whenever you’re ready,” said the man who fetched her from the hallway.

Faith looked at the floor and exhaled slowly. She put on a serious face, looked up at her audience, and said, “Honey, around here I am the law, the order, and the skid mark of this city.” The three people at the table looked amused, and Faith realized what she had just said to them. Eyes wide in shock, she said, “I’m sorry. Please. Let me go again. I know the lines. I’d get it right the second time.” She cleared her throat and started, “Honey –”

“I’m sorry,” interrupted the woman sitting at the table, who was still a bit amused. “But we’re looking for something a little different. Thank you for your time.”

“A little different?” said Faith. “I can do a little different. Just give me a moment and –”

“We actually need to be moving on,” said the woman at the table. “But thank you for coming in.” The man with the clipboard appeared at Faith’s side and guided her out of the room.

“Katie Fields? You’re up,” announced the man with the clipboard into the hallway. Miss Fields, with more enthusiasm than everyone else in the hallway combined, pushed past Faith, who was making her walk of shame down the hallway that seemed to go on forever.

The following week, Faith was at her bank of employment, in the break room, eating a Bunhaus sandwich. While scrolling through the Buzzbook app on her phone, she saw a casting call happening in two hours on the other side of town, but her shift wouldn’t end for another four.

“Oh my God, Faith,” said Faith’s manager, Janice, putting a hand over her chest as if all the breath had escaped her body. Faith’s lunch had been over for five minutes, and she was standing in Janice’s office, listening to Janice say emotionally, “First your brother and now your mother? Dear, I don’t know how you’re holding it together; I’d be torn apart. What happened?”

Arms crossed and looking to the floor, while trying her best to muster up a tear or two, Faith replied, “I really don’t want to talk about it. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I must be out of my mind,” said Janice. “Of course you don’t want to talk about it—you poor thing. Go do what you need to do. Take your time and let me know if you need anything.”

Over the next couple of hours, Faith had raced home, changed clothes, fixed her hair, gotten stuck in traffic, scratched the bumper of the car next to her while she was parking, and sat in a hallway on an uncomfortable chair, in a line of women who looked more or less like her.

Faith felt her phone vibrate and saw it was a text from her father that read, “Are you free? Want to have lunch with me and Mom?”

She texted back, “No can do. Working today, but thanks.” Faith put her phone back in her pocket and felt the vibration of a response, but didn’t bother checking it.

Faith heard the door to the audition room open, and another victim of the casting process sped past her to go try to rebuild her self-esteem somewhere in private. “Can I have Faith Grayson next, please?” a woman’s voice beckoned from the audition room, and Faith rose from her seat.

“So the scene is you’re on a boat in the middle of the Pacific, and the motor has died on you, and you and your boyfriend have been out there for a couple of days without food,” said the director sitting at the table, as Faith listened eagerly. “A boat is approaching. You think it’s pirates, but your boyfriend thinks you’re being irrational. Do you have an idea of what we’re going for?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it,” replied Faith, looking down at the paper she was given when she entered the room.

“Excellent,” said the director. “Well, whenever you’re ready, you can go ahead and start.”

Faith cleared her throat and read from the paper she held, “Tucker, that’s not a fishing boat. Those are pirates. What are we going to do?” Faith looked up from her paper at the director and the woman who called her into the room, sitting at the table. They weren’t smiling.

“Do you think you could sound more scared?” said the director. “These are pirates, remember.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Faith. “I can do that–I just wasn’t sure–yeah I can do that.”

“Great,” said the director. “We just need a little more of what you’re holding back. Let’s see it.”

Faith cleared her throat and read from the paper she held, “Oh my God, Tucker, that’s not–”

“Excuse me,” said the director. “I think you’re adding some stuff in there.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Faith. “Well, I was trying to get into the mood of the character, so I adlibbed a little bit.”

“That’s fine,” said the director. “I think we’ve seen enough. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Grayson. Thank you for coming in.”

It took Faith a moment to register what she had just heard, as she continued to stand there in the middle of the room. She was finally able to muster, “Wait… that’s it?”

“Yep,” said the director. “That’s it. Thank you for coming in.” The woman who had called Faith into the room earlier walked up to her and gave her a sympathetic smile that had been perfected by practice. A smile that made it clear there was nothing left to say.

The next morning, Faith was sitting on her couch in her pajamas, eating a bowl of cereal. Her breakfast was interrupted when her phone started vibrating; it was her father calling. Faith put her phone on speaker and said, “Hey, Daddy.”

“Hey, Bunny,” said Faith’s father. “I tried calling you last night.”

“Yeah, I know,” replied Faith. “I wasn’t really in the mood to talk.”

“Did something happen?” said her father.

“I went on an audition and… I don’t know,” said Faith. “Maybe Mom’s right.”

“Don’t say that, Bunny. You just have to hang in there,” said her father. “Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. I was scrolling through Buzzbook and saw that there’s a casting call happening today at two for a movie they’re shooting locally. And it’s not just some face in the crowd role either; they’re looking for a fresh face to star. It’s your big chance, Bunny.”

“I can’t do it,” said Faith. “I have to work.”

“I’m sure you can ask your boss to let you get off early,” said her father. “You never take any time off. I bet they’ll be happy to let you go. This is a really good opportunity, and it’s happening right on Cherry Street. I’m sending you the link now. Promise me you’ll do what you can to make the audition. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it, but promise me you’ll try.”

“I can’t–” started Faith.

“Bunny…” said her father.

“Alright,” said Faith, reluctantly. “I promise, but I’m telling you, I’m not going to be able to get off work.”

“You won’t know until you try,” said her father.

“Yeah, well, I have to leave for work now,” said Faith.

“You know what?” said her father. “For good luck, I’m going to pick you up a couple of those cinnamon buns you love and bring them to the bank.”

“Please don’t,” replied Faith.

“I can’t hear you, I’m headed out the door right now,” said her father. “See you at the bank. Love ya.”

“No,” said Faith, and the call ended. She grunted in frustration and got up from the couch.

Faith arrived at her bank of employment and didn’t see her father waiting for her. She hoped she had gotten lucky, and he had decided not to come after all. She saw Janice and remembered the promise she had made her father that morning, but decided not to ask if she could get off work early. Faith figured she would simply tell her father that her request had been denied, and he would never know the difference.

Later, while Faith was eating a cup of yogurt in the break room, her phone started vibrating; it was her mother calling her. “Hey, Momma. What’s up?” said Faith.

For a moment, all Faith heard over the phone were sobs. Finally, she could hear her mother say through the sobs, “Faith… It’s your father. He’s… he’s been in an accident. He was driving, and a truck ran a red light. He didn’t make it.” The words stopped, and the sobs began again.

Faith, in disbelief, replied, “What are you saying?”

“I just got off the phone with the police,” sobbed her mother. “He was already gone by the time the paramedics arrived.”

Faith’s eyes began to tear up, and her voice was strained as she said, “Mom, where are you?”

“I’m home,” said her mother, composing herself. “I’m about to head to the hospital.”

“Okay,” said Faith. “I’ll meet you there.”

“All right,” said her mother. “I love you, hunny.”

Faith managed to hold back her deluge of tears to say, “I love you, too, Mom.”

Faith quickly gathered her things and found Janice in her office. “Janice, I need to go,” said Faith.

“What’s wrong?” said Janice.

“It’s my dad,” said Faith. “He’s been in an accident and…” Faith stopped a moment to wipe the tears off that were rolling down her face before she continued, “He didn’t make it.”

“Your father died?” said Janice.

“Yes,” said Faith. “My mom just called me and I need to go meet her at the hospital.”

Janice sat back in her chair and gave a slow clap. Faith was confused about what was happening and stood awkwardly as Janice continued to clap. Janice ended her applause and said, “Bravo. That’s your best performance yet. I never thought you’d actually make it as an actress, but I guess you fooled me twice, didn’t you?”

Still confused, Faith asked, “What are you talking about?”

Janice stood up from her chair and said, “First, your brother dies, then your mother dies, and now your mother has come back from the dead–like Lazarus of Bethany–to tell you that your father died.”

“Janice, I –” started Faith, but Janice cut her off.

“If you wanted time to go to auditions, you could have just asked,” said Janice. “I’m reasonable. I would’ve worked it out with you. But you wanted to treat me like a fool, so you know what? Go ahead. Go to whatever audition thing you have today, and don’t worry about coming back. You’re fired.”

“Janice, wait. You don’t understand –” started Faith, but Janice wasn’t having it.

“I’ve been too understanding, that’s the problem,” said Janice. “Now, leave.” Without another word between them, Faith turned and walked away.

Not long after that, Faith was in her car, driving to the hospital, and stopped at a red traffic light. She thought about how, if she had wanted to stop, she would have seen nothing but green lights for her whole drive. Connected to the traffic signal poll, Faith saw the street sign; it was Cherry Street, and her eyes stayed fixed on the sign. When the light turned green a moment later, Faith received honks from another car, as she almost hit it, making her abrupt right turn onto Cherry Street.

Faith spent an hour sitting in a hallway on an uncomfortable chair, in a line of women who looked more or less like her. She had turned her phone off after her mother called for the fifth time and decided to focus on the floor to keep herself composed.

In the audition room, Faith stared at the paper in her hand, but had trouble getting her mind to focus on the words. Bringing herself back into the moment, she heard the director say, “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” replied Faith, looking up from the paper. “What would you like me to do?”

“Just relax and read what we gave you,” said the director. “The scene is that your father is a trucker, and he just left town, and you were so caught up in your own life that you didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. You don’t see him that much, have no idea when you’ll see him again, and you’re leaving him a voicemail. And it’s that simple. Start whenever you’re ready.”

Faith took a deep breath, looked down at the paper in her hand, and read, “Hey, Dad. I’m sorry for the way I can be, and how frustrating it must be sometimes. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but I…” Faith's voice started to strain, but she continued, “I miss you… I always do.” Tears began to run down Faith’s cheeks. She wiped them off and continued to read, “And I know I always will.” Faith wiped her face and gave a wet, uneven breath before looking up at the two men she was auditioning for.

“Thank you very much, Miss Grayson,” said the casting director. “We’ll let you know what we decide. Have a nice day.”

Faith nodded shakily and kept her eyes on the floor as she walked out of the room. While walking down the hallway, Faith turned her phone back on and called her mother. As the phone rang, Faith heard footsteps quickly approaching from behind her.

“Miss Grayson,” said the casting director, as he ran up to Faith. He stopped in front of her, a little winded, and said, “Miss Grayson, we don’t need to see anyone else. You’ve got the part. I’ve been doing this for 15 years, and I’ve never seen anyone bring emotion like that to an audition before. You weren’t holding anything back.”

Faith stared back at him, not sure what to do or how she should feel. While she stood and stared, she could hear her mother’s voice on the phone, saying, “Faith? Faith? Are you there?”