Chapter 9

LIFE IN MINNEAPOLIS was insane. We ran eight shows in rep over the course of the year and the theatre was dark during the summer. With both of our salaries combined, we were able to rent an apartment off Loring Park. We could walk to work, which was really good during the winter when the snow was eight feet deep. No, it wasn’t. It was thirty-three inches that fell in a span of two days. It was sad to see so many empty seats in the theatre those nights. People just couldn’t get there. Of course, the theatre made some kind of weather compensation and I guess everyone got to see the shows.

For CeeCee and me, we were like newlyweds in our first home. The apartment in Athens didn’t really count because we were in school. Now we were both paid working professionals. Poorly paid. In addition to our jobs—and mine was a lot more than forty hours a week—we ‘managed’ the apartment building, which meant we swept the halls and stairs once a week, shoveled the walks, and called the maintenance people if someone had a problem. It wasn’t too strenuous and got us half off on our monthly rent.

I kind of missed the cast parties and basically living together with the theatre department. But I was the youngest of a cast of professionals being given my first job and my Equity card, for which I paid a portion of my salary every month. There was not a chance I’d get a big role. I was ‘Man in a Blue Suit’, ‘Voices Off’, ‘Street Person’, and ‘Chorus’. I also understudied a speaking part in each show. Unlike all the other actors who were in half the shows, I had to be at rehearsal for every one. It paid off in the end as I was called upon as understudy to Bérenger in Ionesco’s Rhinoceros. I got bonus pay for a principal role and could put the part on my resumé as having played a lead at The Guthrie. But there was no cast party to celebrate. CeeCee and I caught a bus down Lyndale and had a late dinner at Rudolphs Bar-B-Que to celebrate.

Rudolphs was a place that was open later than the bars, so a lot of people who had been out stopped off for a late dinner—including a lot of people who were in or had attended a play. CeeCee and I had been to a number of community theatre performances, which were sometimes as good or better than the professionals. Everyone’s eyes were on Prince, quietly eating at a back table with two burly bodyguards blocking anyone who dared to approach but no one recognized me.

“Do you think you’d want children one day, Terry?” It was a conversation we’d had periodically over the past few years and it had developed into a bit of a fantasy game for us. One I happily played along with.

“I think you’d be a wonderful mother, CeeCee. There is no one I’d rather have children with.” We kissed and held our naked bodies together in bed. It was a hot night in Alexandria, Minnesota. I was thankful we had air conditioning and didn’t need to open a window to the incessant mosquitoes—jokingly called Minnesota’s State Bird. I’d landed a role in Plaza Suite in the summer stock Theatre l’Homme Dieu. I felt very thankful that I’d been asked back for a second season at The Guthrie in the fall.

“Do you? I think that would be so lovely. I was looking in the Sears catalog and there is a summer special on Ians. Would you like a son named Ian?” We kissed and I slid inside my lover and we slowly moved together.

“Ian sounds like a fine son for the first.”

“First? Have you already thought of collecting more?”

“Yes. Of course, I wouldn’t expect to get both at once, but I’ve often thought the Geoffrey model would make a fine son to carry on in his father’s steps as an actor.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. I could see if they have any twins. They are usually special order, you know. That would give us our first two in one delivery.”

“First two, CeeCee? Have you thought about more?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted an Aubrey.”

“Another boy? I was sure you would like a girl.”

“Oh, I do. I think Aubrey would make a perfectly fine name for a strong and independent girl. What do you think?”

“Well, you are right about that. I can almost see her now. Must be a redhead.”

“With a freckle for every soul she’s eaten,” CeeCee laughed.

“Truly, darling, when we are ready—when you are ready—I would love to start our family.” Our love making had sped up as we talked about the children of our fictional family. I was getting very close and CeeCee was breathing hard.

“If you leave a deposit, we could get started right away,” she panted. The deposit was quickly made and we closed the transaction with a kiss. I loved this woman with all my heart. I felt her sniffling against my chest.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I know it’s just a dream and a fantasy but I feel like you really mean it. Do you, Terry?”

“I most certainly do. Over the past couple of years, I’ve grown to love our family as much as I love you. I’m looking forward to raising our children together.”

“Would you mind terribly if I add a fourth? I’ve always wanted a little girl named Michelle. My little Shelly. I dream about dressing her up, taking her to the playground, going shopping, teaching her to read. I think Michelle would be my favorite child.” I looked at CeeCee. She had never revealed this in our fantasies. I could see in a minute that when we adopted, the first child would be Michelle.

“If we are going to have a family, I think you should become Mrs. Reichert,” I whispered. CeeCee looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

“Do you mean that, Terry?”

“Will you marry me, Cheryl?”

“Yes! I will marry you. I will marry you and be your faithful wife and raise your children and cook meals for you and make sure you have clean underwear. I love you so much, Terry.”

“I love you, Cheryl. And other than being a faithful wife and raising our children, I release you from all those other duties. We can share them. When would you like to have the wedding?”

“Oh! Uh ... I need time ... to prepare ... to invite people ... My parents will want ... Are you serious? How about after your season ends at the Guthrie in the spring? Is a June wedding too much of a cliché?”

“You will make a lovely June bride and we’ll take the summer off and just travel and make love all the time. That’s ... ten months. Do you think you can have everything planned by then?”

“I need to call my mother!” CeeCee jumped out of bed and ran to the phone. I could see my deposit running down the inside of her leg. God, I loved that girl! I’d marry her. We’d adopt one or a dozen kids. However many she wanted and I could afford. I was getting a good raise at the Guthrie and was promised several roles in the next season, including Henry Tudor in Richard III. After that, it didn’t look like I’d have any difficulty returning to The Guthrie, but I’d received a few invitations to audition for other companies. I was seriously thinking about the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland. One of the Guthrie actors I was acquainted with had spent three summers there and planned to move there at the end of this season to become part of the permanent resident company performing in both Ashland and Portland. It sounded ideal.

“Mom says we should plan on June 21 because that’s the summer solstice,” CeeCee laughed.

“Darling, I’m yours to command.”

“She also suggested that was the longest day of the year, meaning that the night was the shortest night of the year—just in case I didn’t like it.” We both started laughing so hard we couldn’t hold it.

“What does she think we do in our spare time?” I asked.

“Play Scrabble, of course!” Laughter got us holding each other and that led to more celebration in bed. I just knew we’d have those four little kids before long.

That winter was exceptionally hard. Stepping up to speaking roles on the thrust stage at Guthrie meant just as much rehearsal time as I’d had learning to understudy so many parts the previous year. At least this year I was guaranteed stage time for my roles. But CeeCee wasn’t well.

After a brief trip back to Ohio at Christmas, she checked into Abbott Northwestern for a comprehensive battery of tests. The results weren’t good. The cancer she’d fought off as a teen was back. They planned to remove the entire uterus and this time there was no escaping an incision across her entire belly. I was by her side every minute I wasn’t on stage and an understudy took my role the day of her surgery. She woke from the surgery crying and I held her in my arms all night.

The prognosis wasn’t good. The surgeon had found traces of cancer spread to other abdominal organs, including her kidneys. Chemotherapy was started at once. All I could do was hold my precious love as her long blonde hair fell out again. As soon as my season ended on Memorial Day weekend, I flew CeeCee back to her parents’ house and sat with her. We dreamed about the children we’d adopt and the life we would have, but by then we both knew it would never happen. The cancer was aggressive and radiation and chemotherapy weren’t slowing it down.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to make it to our wedding, Terry.” I didn’t think I had any tears left, but I did. Suddenly it was CeeCee comforting me instead of the other way around. CeeCee pulled at the engagement ring on her hand. We’d shopped for it together and it was a beautiful pear-shaped diamond. The best I could afford. “Don’t bury this with me, Terry. Keep it. One day when you have a little girl, maybe you can put it in a pendant to give to her and I’ll keep living that way. Will you do that, Terry? For our little Michelle?”

“I’ll do it, sweetheart. Whatever you want I’ll do. But I don’t want anyone but you.”

“I couldn’t have asked for a better lover and companion and husband. We didn’t make it to the altar but we’ve been married for five years. The happiest years of my life. I love you, Terry, and I always will.”

I couldn’t say goodbye. I held her in my arms and I guess I lost some weight because I couldn’t eat. On the day we were supposed to get married, CeeCee passed from this life. I was twenty-five years old and didn’t want to live any longer.

Mom and Dad Connors were with me in CeeCee’s hospital room when she passed. We held each other and cried, both for the loss of Cheryl and for the relief from her suffering. I called my folks and they came to the hospital with Lisa. We all had a cry while we waited for all the stupid processing to be completed. It takes fucking forever to get someone declared dead and given into the care of parents. We were exhausted when we said our last goodbye as the guys from the funeral home loaded her onto a gurney.