The Glow of the Spotlight: My Journey with Rebecca

I decide to stick with Rebecca, who seems kind and friendly, a nice change from what I left behind in the antique shop. Shifting my dance bag on my shoulder, I swallow hard and tell her I’m a performer. It isn’t quite true, though if the recital counts, maybe in a way I will be one soon.

Rebecca beams and takes my hand, thrilled that I’ll be staying with her family. Mr. Rossi, the landlord, warns us that boarders aren’t allowed, so I can’t stay more than a couple of days. Rebecca brushes past his concern and explains that I’m the vaudeville girl Max mentioned, on my way to join a troupe. Mr. Rossi shakes his head as if the idea doesn’t impress him in the least and wanders off to feed the pigeons.

We head down a dark stairwell lined with flowered wallpaper, and a sleek cat darts out of nowhere, nearly knocking me off balance. Rebecca explains that the cat, named Pasta, belongs to Mr. Rossi and is a great mouser. Chatting the whole way, she confides that someday she wants to be a moving picture actress, and that her stage name will be Beckie Ruby. She asks whether I have a stage name, too.

I’ve honestly never even thought about having a stage name, so I just say that my stage name will be Daisy. Rebecca declares that’s swell, a word I’ve never heard before. When I admit that back home in New Jersey we say “awesome” instead, she gushes over the new word and promises to try it out on her older sisters before they can beat her to it.

We step into an apartment where a large family has gathered in a small kitchen, the air rich with the smell of freshly baked bread. Everyone turns to look at me, and my face goes hot from the sudden attention. Rebecca announces to the room that I’m Daisy, the vaudeville girl Max told them about.

A woman in a long skirt and apron steps forward, introducing herself as Mrs. Rubin, and gestures to her husband beside her, a man with thinning hair and a trim mustache. He sets his newspaper on the table before shaking my hand, and I catch the bold headline about a German submarine torpedoing a British cruiser. Only when I notice the date at the top, October 17, 1914, does the shock of it really settle in, though I try not to let it show.

Sadie and Sophie, Rebecca’s older sisters, turn out to be identical twins, and I can’t tell them apart at all. Megan and I look different enough that most people never even guess we’re twins ourselves, which is exactly how I like it. Victor turns out to be a lanky older boy, and little Benny gives me a sweet smile the moment his mother says his name.

Sadie gushes about how exciting it must be to work in vaudeville, however they like the moving pictures more. The family reads every issue of a magazine called Stars Weekly from cover to cover. Benny, without pausing for breath, asks whether I’m famous and whether I’ll put on a show. Mrs. Rubin gently tells him not tonight, since I need time to get settled, and I breathe out in relief.

Rebecca is still beaming at me, clearly expecting some amazing story about life in the theater, and now her little brother wants an actual performance. I have no idea how I’ll keep up this charade much longer.

Mrs. Rubin then gestures toward an older couple and introduces Rebecca’s grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Shereshevsky, who live in the apartment upstairs. Mrs. Shereshevsky’s gray hair is pulled into a tight bun, and she studies me with a frown. Her husband, with his white beard and black skullcap, looks me over without a word, his mouth pressed thin. I can only guess what they make of my outfit.

Mrs. Shereshevsky exclaims that I seem like such a nice girl, but wonders aloud about a girl performing onstage, shaking her head slowly. I don’t seem to be making a very good impression.

We move into the dining room, where Rebecca sets a plate, an embroidered napkin, and gleaming silverware in front of me. I take only small portions, since I’m an unexpected guest in such a large household; trying to get along with just Megan back home is more than enough for me, and I can’t imagine four brothers and sisters on top of that.

Over dinner, Sadie asks me to tell them all about my act and what my special talent is. Every head turns toward me, and the blush creeps right back into my cheeks. I’m a tap dancer, I mumble.

Rebecca claps her hands together, delighted, and asks whether I’ve met the Astaires. They’re a brother-and-sister duo. They’re very young, and already big stars. I shake my head. Could she be talking about the famous Fred Astaire? I’ve seen him dancing in some old movies, but I never knew he had a sister.

Rebecca asks me where I’m performing next. I gulp. Should I name the theater where my recital is? What if it doesn’t exist yet? Or should I admit I’ve never set foot on a vaudeville stage in my life? Or invent something else convincing enough to satisfy a family that reads Stars Weekly cover to cover?