There’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain goes on and on

Friday night. Fred Sharkey shuffled nervously from foot to foot. Jeff Vinall smoked a cigarette.

Fred said, “Typically it’s your older crowd. At Mostly Irish we get a lot of bluehairs coming to these shows.”

“But this is opening night, and it’s ten till eight,” said Jeff. “Where are all your audience members?”

“You guys go to places,” said Fred. “Your audience will be along.”

Jeff, Aaron and I stood behind the curtains and stared at the empty auditorium. “So, um, guys,” whispered Aaron. “Have you guys, like, ever been in a situation like this? You know? Like, have you ever, like, put on a show? And there’s, like, nobody in the audience?”

“No,” said Jeff and I at the same time.

Fred hustled backstage. “We have an audience member,” he said. “Let’s get started.”

“As in one audience member?” I asked.

“As in,” said Fred. “Let’s go.”

The background music faded. We walked on stage and the lights went up. Aaron started his monologue.

And I recognized the audience member.

Now here’s the funny part.

I had a lot of fun doing the show.

0 thoughts on “There’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain goes on and on

  1. Dare I add a comment….. It’s a damn good show, I could tell all three of them were enjoying it, and could only hope that the actor part of them that enjoys the play as the thing was keeping the actor part that enjoys the center of attention as the thing at bay…. I got the call from the crew that Friday night, "we just threw a play and nobody came".

    I felt to sick hearing it to call back. But by God, against so many odds, they did it. And they did it damn well.

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