Howard

The following work is strictly fiction

HOWARD

“I’m an old man with nothing to show for my life,” said Howard Albrittion.  He stood before the dresser mirror and spoke the words to no one except to his reflection.  He did not expect his reflection to answer.  He looked at the wrinkles that now defined his face and was surprised that the image staring back was he. Yet this image bore no real relationship to who he really was.  There were a few laugh lines, but most of his face was lined with cares and disappointments.  His hair was gray, and everything about him reflected a tired and sad life. 

He was going to meet with his old acquaintance, Richard. He had known Rich for as long as he could remember but they were scarcely more than acquaintances.  He had never allowed himself to become too close to anyone in his life—except his wife.  She had been the one friend in his life, and when she died, his entire world crumbled.  There was a deep passion that had once burned within him, but that passion he had kept hidden for most of his life.  Nola had given a voice to that passion, and she allowed him to dream, to believe in the world around him, and to believe in himself.  He had never become close to anyone other than Nola.  Some speculated that he was aloof and an introvert because he was afraid of being hurt by people.  So, he remained separated from the sea of humanity; he stood apart from it.  When Nola was alive, he was alive.  He dared to laugh and take chances and speak out on what he believed.  He liked people, and people liked him.  But he still never got close enough to anyone to call them friend, except his wife.  His life revolved around her, and also around the theatre.  In the life of the theatre, he could live many different lives, and dare to be people he only dreamed of being.  He could change the entire scope of humanity on the stage.  It was only when he was off stage that he began to see himself as an empty shell of a man.  But when Nola came into his life, he found himself fulfilled.  She was part of the stage equation that made his life complete.  He felt that he could easily give up the theatre and live his life entirely for her.  He and she were inseparable.  Some observed that it was as if two bodies functioned with one heart, one mind.   

When Nola died Howard Albrittion could no longer find a purpose for life, or a reason to keep on going.  No one had come to comfort him when he was grieving.  People loved his wife, but he was just a forgotten piece of a puzzle.  Quietly and sadly he slipped into obscurity—forgotten by people, devoid of friends.  He had played with the idea of suicide but he told himself that he lacked to courage to completely follow his wife.  He kept her ashes on the piano where she had derived most of her pleasure.  He talked to her ashes daily, promising that they would soon be together again, and now after all these years, it looked as if these promises would at last come to be for he felt that his life was coming to an end. 

Howard left his house and walked down to the old Annex Playhouse.    This was the one distinguishing landmark of the totally indistinguishable town of Limestone, Florida.  Richard Blanch was waiting for him outside.

“Well, buddy, looks like this is the last time we’re going to be going in here,” Rich remarked. 

The old theatre was scheduled to be torn down next week to build a new rodeo grounds.  There were new plans for the small community of Limestone.  The streets were already lined with antique shops catering to the whims of curious tourists who were attracted to the quaint little town.  The theatre was just another casualty of the appeal to the tourist trade.  Howard had always held out the hope that there might be at least one instance of art in this otherwise redneck community.  There might be at least one thing that would show him that his life had not been in vain.  He often expressed this desire to Rich, who merely laughed, and replied, “That’s the nature of the business.” 

Richard Blanch had worked faithfully with Howard for many years.  He had been Howard’s confidant and the technical advisor to all the plays that Howard had directed in the Annex Playhouse.  Although Howard had received little notoriety for all his efforts, several of the people who began their careers in the little theatre had gone on to succeed in New York and Hollywood. 

The Annex Playhouse now stood empty, deserted. 
“Shall we go in?” asked Rich..

The theatre was dark, except for the work lights that Rich turned on.  The theatre was not large by any stretch of the imagination, but it still inspired a sense of life and vitality in  Howard’s heart.  He could clearly see and remember the past performances that now quickly paraded before his eyes. He took his usual seat in the center section, fifth row, and closed his eyes..

“All right.  Next please…Howard Albrittion.  And what are you going to do for us today, Howard?”
“Richard III, Act I, scene i” He began the soliloquy.  He tried to forget about the auditors—those faceless people he could not see, seated in the darkness staring at him waiting for him to mess up.  He hated the auditioning process.

“Very good, Howard.  We’ll be in touch.”

He knew well enough what that meant.  “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”
 
A few days later the telephone rang and a soft feminine voice said, “Hello, Howard…..I saw you at the auditions and I liked very much what you did.”

“They didn’t like it.”
 
“Ach! What do they know?”  said the feminine voice.
Her name was Nola.  Six months later they were married.  She was a girl for any fate.  Whatever Howard wanted to do, she was with him.  Her hair was spun gold, her eyes were hazel, and he fell madly in love with her. It was a love that transcended time and space.  It conquered all.  It possessed him.

“Why so quiet?”  Rich asked.
“Just thinking.  About the old days.  You were one hell of a stage manager.  Still are for that matter.”

Rich laughed.  “We had some times, didn’t we buddy?  And what did you always tell the cast about the stage manager?”

Howard laughed out loud.  “I always told them to listen to everything you said because backstage the stage manager is God.”

“Can you imagine me as God?”  Rich laughed. 

Howard was excited.  “Nola, I just got an offer from the picture I was working on.  I know I was just an extra, but one of the stars really liked me.  They want me to go to Hollywood and work with them out there.”

Nola kissed him tenderly.  “You go on and succeed.  I can’t.  I’m just not up to it.”  Nola was not a sickly woman but she was frail, and maybe a little frightened about leaving Florida and her family and friends.  To Howard, she was more than just his wife.  She was his friend.  He had vowed to God that if He would ever grant the gift of a wife that he would make it his life’s goal to take care of this woman.  He knew that he could not exist anywhere without her. 

“There will be other opportunities, other times when you feel better”, he said. 
She pleaded with him to go and to think of himself and his career first, but Howard was not that kind of man. 

No more opportunities came along. He became a high school drama teacher. Eventually he opened a small theatre in Limestone.  He wanted to bring culture to the community and inspire others to love the theatre as much as he. But as the years passed, he felt that his mission had been a failure.  He began to think that culture would never become a part of Limestone. 

Nola, sensing his thoughts, would always fill his life with light and happiness by reminding him, “Just think of all the lives you’ve touched.  Think of all those you’ve helped.  I love you, Howie.” 

“So, Rich, why are we here?  To cry in our beer over something that’s going to be destroyed?”

“This is the theatre—your theatre.  I thought you’d like to see it one more time, and maybe remember all that you accomplished here.” 

“How the hell, can you of all people say that I accomplished anything other than present plays for a bunch of people who didn’t care?  The actors didn’t care, the audiences didn’t care.  I didn’t do anything except waste people’s time.  Some of the plays they didn’t even get.  Remember Six Characters in Search of an Author?  No one knew what we were trying to do.  No one understood.  They just didn’t get it. What a fool I was to think that I could touch people’s lives.”

Rich was silent for a moment.  Then he spoke.  “Howie, you need to get over your self pity, if that’s what it is.  I didn’t ask you to come here to listen to you bellyache about what a failure you’ve been.”

“But it’s true.  I never succeeded as an actor or director.  By next week all that I stood for will be gone, and in ten years, it will be as if I never lived at all.  Nothing will matter. I suppose that I should be happy that I had the love of a good woman, but I have let her down by failing.”

“Howard, you were the most devoted husband I have ever seen.  The love you and Nola shared comes around once in a century, if even that often.”  Rich thought a minute.  “But that’s not why we’re here.  This is your place.  This is your stage.  It’s time for one last show.  Come on—on stage with you.”

“This is a mockery,” Howard shouted.  “I won’t do it. I’m not going to stand up there like some senile old idiot and play the fool.”

Richard grabbed Howard by his shirt, lifted him physically out of his seat and pushed him in the direction of the stage.  “If you don’t do another thing in your life, you are going to tread those boards one more time, and you will not leave until I say you can. 

Got that, mister?”  There was a fury in Rich’s eyes that Howard had never seen before, and he trembled when he looked into Rich’s eyes.

Howard stood center stage.  “Okay, Mister Stage Manager…..now what?”
From offstage Rich’s voice shouted “Places……….Lights” Suddenly all the stage lights in the empty theatre washed the stage.  “Spot on Mister Albrittton, please.”  From the darkened lighting booth the ray of a spotlight encircled Howard. 

“Rich, how did you do that?”

“Quiet on stage please, and………….action.”

“What do you want me to do, Rich?”  No answer. “Well, uh, my name is Howard Albrittion.  I am an actor and director.” Howard then began to recite his favorite passages from Shakespeare and moved on into selections by Ibsen and Sarte.  He concluded by saying, “I am just a man.  Nothing more.  I have lived the best I knew how. I loved my Nola dearly.  I have tried to add a sense of beauty to the world, and I have tried to tell all my students that it didn’t matter so much whether they became famous actors.  All that matters is that they were always true to themselves and they became good human beings.”

After a moment of silence, Rich’s voice shouted “House lights please.”  The house lights came up and at the same time the thunderous sound of applause filled the theatre.  The theatre was filled with faces, familiar faces of people who Howard and known, directed, and taught in his life.  They were all standing, smiling, and shouting his name.  The applause subsided and everyone retook their seats. 
From the back of the theatre a young woman arose.  He remembered her clearly, because she had such beautiful blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Mr. Albittion, it’s Tiffany.  I want to thank you.  You gave me the courage to believe in myself.  You gave me a role in your play when others told you not to. You believed in me.  You fought for me.  Because of you I am now an actress. Thank you.”

A young man rose.  “Howard, I could never call you Mr. Albritton.  You were always more than a director or teacher to me.  You were always my friend.  You helped me get through a difficult time when my parents were going through a divorce.  You never treated me like a teenager or a child.  You treated me like an equal.”

Others stood and the words went on until there was nothing more to be said. 
Rich came on stage.  “Howard, I think I speak for everyone when I say had it not been for you—your love, your passion, and how much you freely gave of yourself to each of us, we would not have lived as completely as we have.”  Rich continued.  “Someone kill the house lights and stage lights please.” 

The faces vanished in the darkness as quickly as they appeared and the theatre fell silent once again. Rich and Howard stood alone in the work lights. 

After a moment Rich spoke.  “Time to go, Howard.  Nola’s waiting.  She’s very proud of you.”  Rich placed his hand on Howard’s shoulder and guided him toward the rear of the stage. 

“You know what you always said about a stage manager being God?”  Rich asked

“Yes.”

“You were close, but not quite right.  But you were very close.”

*                              *                              *                              *                              *
Within a week the old Annex Playhouse had been reduced to rubble.  Neither Howard Albrittion nor Richard Blanch was ever heard from or seen again.