For the next several days, right through the remaining Everyman rehearsal and the two performances just before Christmas, I felt like someone other than myself. According to audiences—including Mother, who came to both shows—I did very well. Of course, acting is, in a sense, being someone else.
EverymanAfter a few meaningful looks from Tegan during this time, which met with an answering smile but no more from me, I steeled myself, determined to move the relationship along after the shows were over. I called to mind some trite expressions for the effort: step up to the plate; take the bull by the horns; bite the bullet. Would fortune favor the bold? There was only one way to find out.
After the second and final performance, a Saturday night, there was a small cast party. Mother stopped in
