The Last Act, with Geoffrey Marlowe as King Lear and Miranda Faust as Cordelia

He moved to the edge of the stage, nearly rabid in the throws of the speech. He hit the climax of the speech, a point of intense emotion that would have touched every heart in the audience.

Had there been an audience that is.

She had forgotten how good of an actor he is. His performance was spectacular.

Then he fell.
off the stage.
He had tripped.
It looked painful.
She rushed to his side.

"Daddy? Daddy?" she said in a voice that wouldve been a screech of alarm had she not had lost her breath with alarm or been out of breath from dashing over to him.
He lay there.
"No!" she screamed, "I just found you! You can't leave me now!"
She closed her eyes, weeping. She touch her forehead to his, her tears dripping onto his overly powdered face.

"You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave:
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like moulten lead."
He said faintly.

"Daddy?" she gasped, her eyes snapping open, "Daddy!"
he did not make eye contact, he starred out into space thoughtfully.
"Daddy? do you know who I am?" she said, terrified of the answer.

"You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?" He said, glancing at her.

"Still gone," she mumbled to herself. Her tears returned, no longer for the lose of her father, but because she had never found him in the first place. What she had found was still the thing that had stolen him from her and her sisters to begin with.

The powdered face of the actress playing Cordelia faded, some other visage was there.
then it was gone.
The polished facade of the theatre and the many other actors shattered.
He heard a faint voice, a voice trying desperately to cling to something
"He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile," it said.
It had grown stronger as it had spoken.
The theatre was its normal brilliance again, the other actors stood around, looking worried as was their parts.
but it wasnt real, it was all an act.
For the first time, and he couldnt figure out why now, he thought about how the theatre wasnt made of the best materials, just covered in them. How the actors werent their characters, just actors, just pretending.

He looked at her for a second, and seemed to really see her, not some figment of his broken mind. He glanced away, as though he had heard something from elsewhere in the room.
He looked back, gone again.
He recited the next lines, word for word, perfectly.

"Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity,
To see another thus. I don't know what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands: let's see;
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
Of my condition!" he said

Wait, she thought.
that wasnt it.
he stumbled.
He hadnt stumbled on a line in thirty years and he stumbled.

"Daddy?" she said hopefully, "Look at me daddy, come back, please."

He sat up partially.
"Pray, don't make fun of me:
I'm a very stupid old man,
very old;
And, to be plain,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
I think I should know you;
But im not sure, because I don't recognize this place;
and I can't for the life of me
figure what I'm wearing; And I dont know
Where I've been. Don't laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think you
To be my child Miranda."
he said, his gaze focusing on her face, acknowledging her presence. HER presence. Not some imaginary actor playing some fictitious character, Miranda, he saw Miranda.

"And so I am, I am." She said to him.

He stood up. His back cracking with his old age.
He gazed upon the decrepit theater that he had spent the last few decades of his life.
He looked at his daughter and embraced her.
She was crying, but this time, with joy.
"I found you" she whispered into his embrace, "I've finally found you."

They separated, her now staring lovingly and joyfully into his eyes. His eyes, on the other hand, settled on something resting on one of the few remaining functional seats.

"Will you come home with me?" she said, "I'm sure my husband wouldnt mind, he had always liked you. Please come?"

"yes," he said, meeting her eyes, "but theres one thing I have to do first."
He strode over to the seat and picked up a book.
"The Complete Works of William Shakespeare: The First Folio" read the cover. There was a small sticker that read "Property of Odum public library"
___ . . . ___

They approached what was once the public library.
"Are you sure that they really care if you return it now?" Miranda said.
"I don't care if they care," he said, "I need to return it."
"Plus," he added as an afterthought, "the librarian definitely cares. I wouldn't even be surprised if she was here, I don't think she ever leaves."
He opened the door and walked into the burnt lobby of the library. It was a miracle it was still standing.
He saw a body on the floor, half covered by a burnt bookshelf.
He didn't need to go any closer to know who it was, but he did so anyways.
She was here, he was right, and now she would never leave.
He set the book gingerly against her.
"There," he said, "I've returned it, now how much is my late fee?"
___ . . . ___

The old Man exited the Library, he wore a tweed three piece suit with a wrinkled tan linen shirt and a shiny silk tie. He walked over to the young woman with the blue skirt standing off to the side. A police officer quickly walked over to him.
"What were you doing in there?" he asked angrily.
"I was returning a book." he replied coolly.
"What is you name?" he asked, still frustrated, as he pulled out a notepad.
"Henry Faust" He said.

She stepped off the train. Her small black boots, once stylish some number of years ago, splashed into a puddle, wetting the bottom of her blue skirt.
Her name was Miranda Faust, she had just arrived from New York, she was on vacation from Italy, where her and her Husband lived.
Her husband was french, not Italian, but they both had loved Tuscany so much when they were there on their honeymoon that they decided to stay.
Her Husband was working, he was on a business trip to York. He worked for a bank headed by an old Jewish friend. His boss was grumpy, but okay once you got to know him.
She had taken that opportunity to try to find her father.
He had seemed to drop off the face of the planet a few years ago, and, because his mental health hadnt been spectacular then, she was worried.
Sadly, she hadnt had an opportunity to try to find him in a long time.
Not that she hadnt tried, but when a poor old actor, who cant afford a credit card or bank account, moves out and no trace of him is left its kindof difficult to tell where he moved to.
She finally tracked him down though.
Somebody in Chicago had mentioned that he might be in New York, and she had found someone who once worked with him here in Wilshire tower.
She bought some coffee from some kindly turkish man, then headed towards the theater.

memories, just before King Lear, Starring Geoffrey Marlowe

He sat backstage on the plush sofa, waiting for his entrance.
He kept an eye out for the directors exit after the house speech. That would signal the beginning of the play, of which he was the star.
He was King Lear.
He knew that the crowd would go wild as he entered, regardless of whether or not he did a good job, but he would anyways,
he would be brilliant as always,
because he was Geoffrey Marlowe.
_________

I gain consciousness as he drifts off into a light nap.
I hate this, all I can do is remember and pontificate.
I cant do anything, he wont let me.
I remember my life before he took over,
it wasnt that great. It'd be nice to try again.
But he wont let me.
I had a wife,
she left me.
she said I was too involved in my work.
That was true, but it wasnt why she left.
She left because my work didnt pay enough.
She had come from a wealthy family, the type that likes to associate with actors and artsy people so they can seem cultured.
I think thats why she married me.
but she couldnt get a job to save her life, and I couldnt provide.
so she left me.
We had three daughters.
I miss them.
We had joint custody, and after they left home they still visited me.
For a while.
as Geoffrey gained more sway they began to avoid me,
they criticized my lifestyle, said they would stop supporting me.
Its not like they did anyways.
They would send me money, because they thought I needed it. I never spent it.
I still have it all, its in an envelope under a piece of lead under the stage.
They stopped calling, we havent heard from them in years.
They are married, that happened before they stopped calling.
I liked the youngest's husband, some french guy, treats her like a princess, a perfect gentlemen.
The others are nice enough, I'm still not sure that they are worthy of my daughters. The eldest's might, he seems like a better man than he lets on.
I hope I can break free, I want to see them again.
I want to be better.