To Be (Or Not To Be) A Maggie

Cassandra Jeffries drove down the winding road, through the thick woodland, that led to the house she had called home for the last twenty-three years. She arrived at the small, red, brick home and parked her car in the driveway. She exited the vehicle and dragged herself up the walkway and then inside.

“How’d it go?” her mother, Karen asked, sipping wine.

“They told me they’d call,” Cassandra said, throwing her purse down on the table. She flopped onto the couch, beside her mother.

“Figures,” Karen said, turning off the television. “It’s been six months. You really should be more realistic and just accept that this thing isn’t happening.”

Cassandra sighed. “They didn’t say no.”

“They didn’t exactly say yes, either.” Karen shrugged. “Cassandra, I love you, but you need to be honest with yourself. Sitting around here all day making music is fine when you’re seventy and retired but you need to think of your future, and what are the chances of becoming a successful singer?”

The nearby door, that led to the cellar, opened and Cassandra’s grandmother, Paula, walked through. A techno beat followed her out, as did her rainbow braids and flowing, fluorescent, dress. “I’ve made a surefire hit, this time,” she said. “Oh, Cassie, you’re home. How much did they love you? When does your first album drop?” She hobbled over to Cassandra and pinched her cheeks.

Cassandra smiled. “No word on the album, yet, but I did audition for Sandy in the local production of Grease. They said my audition went well and they’d be in touch.”

Karen covered her ears. “Mom, would you please turn off that godawful ruckus?”

Marcel, Cassandra’s dad, came into the room. Sweating and wiping his apron, he said, “I see we’re all here. I love the jams, mom,” he said with a smile, giving Paula two thumbs up. Then he looked at Karen and, quickly, he put his hands in his pockets. He turned to Cassandra and said, “How’s our little broadway star in the making? Did you get the lead?”

“Fingers crossed,” Cassandra said. She walked to the dinner table and began clearing it off.

“Marcel, please stop encouraging this,” Karen said, her face reddening. “It’s been six months of audition after audition. Cassandra needs to focus on something more productive.” She patted Cassandra’s hand. “You enjoyed teaching…”

Cassandra grimaced. “That was a disaster.”

“You liked the kids, at least,” Karen insisted. “Well, some of them, anyway” she added, scoffing.

“Sit, sit,” Marcel said, shooing Cassandra away. “I’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” said Paula, shuffling over. “Come with me. I want to talk to you about something, down in the studio, anyway.” She took Cassandra by the hand and led her to the top of the basement steps, then yelled over her shoulder. “I’ve got a ruckus I need help wrangling down there.”

Cassandra suppressed a giggle, “Oh, I can’t wait to hear your latest, creation!” Cassandra exclaimed, following Paula through the worn-out doorframe.

Light danced across the wall as the pair made their way down the steps. A disco ball spun, in the center of the basement, on the other side of the rickety, wooden, banister.

“Kid, we got some things to talk about,” said Paula when they got to the bottom of the stairs, turning off the music. She plopped down into a sparkling beanbag chair and motioned for Cassandra to pull up another, beside her.

Cassandra followed Paula’s lead and pulled up the matching shiny seat beside her grandmother, who sat behind her high-tech devices. “What’s up, nana?”

“You ever used a digital audio workstation, kid? A ‘DAW?’” asked Paula. “Nothing like producing your own music. Trust me!”

Cassandra shook her head from side to side. “I have never used one before but I am a quick learner.” Cassandra sat at the edge of the chair.

“Oh, I know that about you, Cassie. I sure do. I taught you how to use one of these, after all, didn’t I?” Paula grabbed a musical keyboard from her desk and handed it to Cassandra. She clicked open a program on the immense monitor, mounted to her wall, and picked a basic piano sound. “Play a few chords!”

Cassandra knitted her eyebrows and sat for a few moments, then played some notes. “I started this when me and my friend, Maggie, were talking about starting a band but she never wanted to really work on music like that.”

“Yeah, I remember old Mega-Mouth Mags. A whole lot of talk,” said Paula. “Never had the talent you have. Your soul always comes through in your music, like that tune you played just now. Do me a favor, lay that down one more time.” Paula adjusted some numbers in the music making program and hit a digital button with a big red circle on it. “Let’s record it.” A metronome ticked. “It’s timing you in. After the count of four, play to the rhythm.”

Cassandra trembled. She silently counted to four before she regained her composure and played the soft melody again.

“That’s it, that’s it,” said Paula, letting Cassandra tap the keys for sixteen measures before pressing pause. She rearranged a few notes, added some other elements, then said. “Now, does this sound like something you might be able to sing a song to?” She hit the play button. A haunting, somber yet pleasing, backing track had been created.

Cassandra’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Nana, that is brilliant!” Cassandra exclaimed before she pulled Paula to her, hugging her. “Yes, I could come up with some lyrics in no time!”

“Dinner is ready!” Karen yelled from the top of the stairs.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, kid,” said Paula, standing up. “Contrary to what your mother says, I was well on my way to being successful in the industry before… well… let’s just say there are a lot of ‘Maggies’ in the business. You need someone you can trust. Not these empty promise makers. Not fools who are going to make you wait on them to decide that you’re ‘good enough.’ Speaking of making people wait, let’s not piss Queen Karen off.” Paula limped over to the steps and waved at Cassandra to come join her before she made her way upstairs.

Cassandra followed Paula up and into the dining room. Marcel finished placing the settings as they entered.

“The bread is a little burnt,” Karen commented, wrinkling up her nose. She sat at the head of the table.

Cassandra took the seat beside her mother. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

Marcel scurried in and out, carrying several covered dishes each time he entered. Paula, across the table from Karen, picked up her fork and knife and banged on the lids.

“See, kid?” Paula asked, pointing at Cassandra. “We could even do live music. We’ve got a whole band right here. Sing us a little ditty, will you?”

Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Mother, please, it’s dinner time!”

Cassandra smiled at her grandmother. “We’ll continue after we eat, nana.”

Karen shook her head, she muttered something under her breath that no one could hear and then turned her attention to Cassandra. “I was talking to my friend, Luna, and she said there is an opening for a teaching position at Sharon Elementary. You’d be teaching fourth grade.”

Cassandra frowned. “I don’t know…”

“Cassandra, you need a real job,” Karen said. “The theater and music thing is fine as a hobby but you should pursue a solid career.”

Marcel strutted in carrying a gravy dish. “The finishing touch,” he said. A song rang out — a digitized choir of voices comprised a ringtone. Marcel tripped toward the table and viscous brown went flying across the room. “Oh, geez!”

“See! You can’t stop the music, Karen,” said Paula, spooning some of the spilled gravy off of the wall. “Delicious, as usual, Marcel. Even with a little plaster in it.” She then aimed the spoon at Cassandra. “Go on, kid. Pick up the phone!”

Cassandra turned to Paula, smiling at her before she stood up from the table. She answered the phone with a, “Hello,” her voice cracking. “Yes, this is she.”

Karen rolled her eyes, then got up to help Marcel clean up the spill. “Oh, great, dinner is ruined. But, hey, at least there’s music.”

Cassandra walked into the living room so that she could take her phone call in private.

“We loved your audition. You bring a lot of personality to the role. We would like to formally offer you the lead in our production of West Side Story that we’re putting on in Atlanta,” Joe, the producer, said over the phone.

“Atlanta?” Cassandra questioned. “Atlanta is four hours away.”

“Yes, we know and we are more than willing to pay for whatever traveling accommodations that you may require,” Joe said.

“I am not familiar with Atlanta or West Side Story,” Cassandra choked out, her head spinning.

“Oh, well, we could get you caught up on the story and music,” Joe said after a pause. “We could book you a hotel close to the theater. You wouldn’t have to do a lot of traveling outside of getting from the hotel to the theater.”

Cassandra nodded and blinked a few times. “Oh, this doesn’t seem real.”

“Mm, of course it’s real,” Joe said, his voice wavering a little.

“I need to talk with my parents,” Cassandra said. She was thrilled on one hand but now this offer was leaving a lot of questions and uncertainties. What about her grandmother’s proposal?

“I understand, Miss Jeffries,” Joe said, after another pause. “I’ll give you a call in the morning after you’ve had time to process this wonderful news and share it with your folks. Just remember, it’s your life — and your dream come true!”

Cassandra nodded, unsure of what to say. “Thanks, we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Have a wonderful evening!” Joe exclaimed and then the phone went silent.

Cassandra looked down at the blank screen. The call had ended but it felt like life was just beginning.

Cassandra staggered back into the dining room.

“Since your grandmother’s rambling distracted your clumsy father and he spilled gravy all over the table, we are ordering a pizza.” Karen still sat at the head of the table. “Is meat lovers okay?”

Cassandra nodded and sat next to her mother. “I was offered the lead in one of the company’s productions in Atlanta. Not the one I auditioned for, but still…”

“Oh, brother.” Karen breathed raggedly.

Marcel sat down, dusting off his shoulders. “That’s wonderful news, Cassandra! Did they discuss pay?”

“We didn’t get that far,” Cassandra said. “I told them that I wanted time to talk about things with you, mom and nana…” Cassandra trailed off. She noticed that Paula was no longer in the room. “Where did nana go?”

“She went back down into the basement,” said Marcel, smiling. “Said she had something she wanted to finish before our little broadway star in the making goes off and takes over the world!”

Cassandra smiled. “I am going to go down and spend time with her. Text me when the pizza gets here?” Cassandra got up from the table and sauntered to the cellar door. She opened it, then descended. The lights were off.

“Nana!” Cassandra called for Paula, but Paula did not answer. The door toward the far end of the room was open, leading to the space where Paula slept. The lights were on. Cassandra walked in. “Nana, is everything okay?”

Paula was on the phone. She put her index finger up to Cassandra and spoke into the receiver. “Great, yes, great. That sounds perfect. I’ll see you next week, then. Thank you. Goodbye,” she said, smiling. She hung up and jumped to her feet to hug Cassandra. “Cassie, kid. I hope I’m not assuming things. Share your good news with me before I share mine. You got the part, right?”

Cassandra looked around the room. “Well, I… I didn’t get the part, for the local theater here, but the producer liked me so well that he called with an offer for the lead for a production of another performance down in Atlanta,” Cassandra gnawed at her dried lips.

“I guess the band’s broken up, then?” said Paula, laughing. “But how ironic. Maybe we’ll have a chance at re-forming it in our spare time… When you got that call, I figured, maybe the ‘Maggies’ ain’t all so bad since at least one of them saw what I’ve always seen in you. So, I decided to give one of my old connections a call and she referred me to some youngins who are hosting a music festival. Said they’d have to hear some of my tracks before they onboarded me, but that I should be a shoe-in. A woman of my age, spinning electronic dance music… they said I’d be a hit, even if I had to do a few sets of playing someone else’s tunes. Craziest thing of all, guess where the gig is at?”

Cassandra pursed her lips and scratched her head. “Atlanta?” 

Paula’s head bobbed up and down as a smile adorned her lips. 

“Nana, there is no way you can drive back and forth to Atlanta and you wouldn’t be able to afford an apartment there. You didn’t have enough money to maintain your apartment up the street,” said Cassandra.

Paula frowned.

Cassandra continued. “Mom and dad are here in case something happens and, of course, your doctors are here.”

“So, it turns out, you’re the biggest mega-mouth of a ‘Maggie’ of them all. Or, should I say, the biggest Karen,” Paula pointed to the doorway. “I’d say I’ll see you in Atlanta, but I guess I won’t be. Get out!”

“Nana!” Cassandra exclaimed, tears formed in her blue eyes. “Why are you being so mean?”

“I’ve done nothing but inspire you, you’re whole life. Encouraged you. Taught you. I was going to say you’d done the same for me, tonight. Restored my faith in people. Then you go and shatter MY dreams. Twice in one night,” said Paula, still pointing to the dark room outside. “I won’t say it again. Get out! I’ve got plans to make. On my own. The way it’s always been…”

Cassandra looked at the old woman. “I’m sorry. I really was looking forward to working on music with you.” Cassandra took a deep breath. “Mom and dad will never agree to you going to Atlanta to live by yourself and… I am not even sure going to Atlanta is what I want for myself.”

“Agree with? I don’t need anyone’s approval. Never have, kid. Hope you learn something from that.” Paula sauntered to her closet, and pulled out a duffle bag. “Been packed for a while now. Knew my day was coming, soon. Just didn’t think it’d be you to finally push me out.” Then she grabbed her wallet and opened it. There were several hundred dollar bills inside. “And I’ve been selling beats on the side.” She threw the bag over her shoulder and exited the room. “See you never,” she shouted, down the stairs, as she left the basement and then the house.

***

Cassandra took the opportunity in Atlanta. Marcel insisted it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Karen said very little, especially after Paula had run off and no one had seen her in days.

“We are fortunate enough to have found a wonderfully talented, cutting edge, musician to help us with the arrangements for some of the numbers in our show.” Joe smiled as he addressed the cast and crew, one morning. “Please welcome DJ Mega-Mouth.” Joe motioned to the back of the auditorium.

Cassandra gasped as she saw the old woman walking, down the aisle, towards her. “Nana!”

“My name is Ms. Maggie and you’ll refer to me, only, as such. Even if you are the lead, respect is due,” said Paula. “Now, everyone to the stage. We’re going to rehearse through the entire show. From the top!”

Cassandra stared at her grandmother, her mouth hanging open. “Nana, would you please talk to me? I have been so worried. Dad and I spent days looking for you. We have all been worried sick.”

“Sir,” said Paula, turning her back to Cassandra, addressing Joe. “Would you please get your performers to follow instructions? It’s crucial to the success of the show, is it not?”

Joe wiped the sweat that was bubbling above his lip. “Yes, ma’am,” he swallowed hard.

“Nana, please, just five minutes. That’s all I need,” Cassandra said, her voice cracking. “I came that night to tell you that I wasn’t leaving. I wanted to stay and make music with you. I was going to call Joe and tell him that I wasn’t interested.”

Joe looked at her his, eyes popping. “You were?”

Paula walked to the piano and sat. She played the melody that Cassandra had created, back in the basement. “Well, I suppose we get to make music together now. Again, my name is Ms. Maggie. Now, get to the stage and let’s do this.”

Cassandra looked at her grandmother. She shrugged before she was handed the music sheet. “I am just so happy that we’re doing this together.”

“Everyone, let’s do some vocal warm-ups,” said Paula. “A-E-I-O-U to the music I’m playing. A perfect practice piece, written by a perfect genius.”

Cassandra smiled, shaking her head. She was happy to be here for the first time since he had arrived and that was because she was living out her dream and she was incredibly grateful to be doing that with her grandmother. Even if her grandmother was not speaking to her and had renamed herself ‘Ms. Maggie.’