Candy Floss

chapter three | cream of wheat

chapter three | cream of wheat

I'm not a religious person, and my parents aren't religious people, but here I was, sitting on a pew waiting for my cue to start belting on hymns. There were probably a couple hundred people surrounding me. I was ready for the off-tune harmonies to begin. I also wasn't a musical person, and I really couldn't tell the difference between off key and, well, on key. I don't mean to offend anyone who is indeed religious, but I honestly did not understand why there were so many songs made about Amazing Grace or world peace. As you could probably tell, I'm not exactly the most attentive person in church.

I asked her why we attended church if we weren't religious. In her defense, we were in the chapel at the time. She simply glared at me, gestured me to shut my mouth, and continue listening to the sermon. When we got in the car, she lectured me about being disrespectful. I was positive that it was some sort of publicity thing. Although, such a thing would be pointless because she was no longer in the limelight or the lemonlight, if that even existed. When would she learn that the public no longer cared about her actions? Sure, if she did something drastic like murder someone they'd bring up Penelope Sharp and how Hollywood corrupts its stars. That was the type of publicity Mom would label "bad publicity." She informed me that such a thing existed.

I doubted that anyone would recognize her as the beloved Penelope Sharp. I doubted that a current photo of her was even on the Internet for her a stalker to find. The only people who probably watched the show were the elderly who had nothing to do or the insomniacs who caught an occasional rerun. Or the "vintage" makeup artists who viewed old videos of her on YouTube or something.

I suspected that my mother lived in the past. She really missed her glamorous Hollywood days. Dad was always supportive of her and tried to lift her out of the rut she would get stuck in sometimes.

We suggested that she should audition for some of the plays at the local theater downtown. She'd get a role for sure with her impressive resume. Granted it was over fifteen years when she acted last, but I'm sure a good portion of the talent was still there. A misty look appeared in her eyes as she shook her head, reminiscing no doubt. I swore I heard her sniffle. "No. Those days are long gone and behind me."

She was being dramatic. It was in her nature and she would never shed that trait. I didn't understand why she wouldn't pursue acting again, even if it was only amateur. It was her passion and that was the only thing that mattered.

Instead, she spent her days a little less glitzy with a lot less luster. She was a real-estate agent. How she made the transition from actress to agent, I don't know. Again, not trying to offend any real-estate agents. I just didn't think she was satisfied with her life. Something needed to change.

And something did.

Dad and I were watching a game show on television and munching on Granny Smith apples he purchased at the Farmer's Market when Mom strutted in. Her face looked rejuvenated, like she just had a facial. For once, she looked completely happy. "You'll never guess what happened!" she squealed with pure delight.

We looked up. Dad was the first to respond. "What happened, honey?"

"Do you remember when you two insisted that I audition at the Eater Theater? Well, I stopped by to see if they needed any of my prestigious expertise, and they suggested that I'd be great for a part and should audition! They gave me a copy of the script!"

"That's great!" Dad enthused. He was so supportive, and I could only hope my future spouse was as happy for me as he was. Or maybe he was hoping for more takeout. Mom wasn't exactly the best cook, and he loved the Chinese restaurant about a mile from our house.