It’s real. It’s very, very, very, real.
I won’t go into the sadder parts of what happened during this production – it’s just too soon, and it’s not my pain to speak of.
I will speak about my actual pain.
Opening night, I was on. I could feel it. I had my lines, the blocking, my entire body was trembling with emotion. We completed the banquet scene, and Ben (my Macbeth) pulled me offstage center by the neck just as he’d done a thousand and one times in rehearsal and tech.
This time though, I missed the stairs leading off of the set. The lights went dark, my foot found nothing but air, and the only thing you heard was a loud crash. I got up quickly, clutched onto Ben and said “GO.” – true to his craft, he pulled me along as the lights came up and kept the “scene” going.
I immediately ran to the dressing room, shouting for people to get out of my way, and had others stripping my clothes off of me. The crash, was my face hitting a light that was on the floor. My nose was broken. I had a gash on my nose that was bleeding profusely. We stopped the bleeding, got my wig changed, my costume on, and I went out almost as soon as I was ready and did my sleepwalking scene. By the end of that, I had blood trickling down my nose.
Thankfully, the audience thought it was a special effect. I even heard people saying that my “out damn spot” was so good, they felt my pain.
As soon as that scene was over, I walked off stage again, and at least three grown men held me and told me I was their hero. By the time curtain call came around, the cast cheered me on more than Macbeth.
So here I sit, the last show is done, but the black eyes remain. It’ll heal, but I’ll still have a hellova story to tell people later.
And I’ll tell them the curse is real.
