Enders In Exile

peons and courtiers talk, for she knew
that when she wanted to, she could blow them all off the stage with a
breath.
    And so it was. It came
time for act II, scene i, when Katharina is supposedly dragging Bianca
about, her hands tied. Alessandra made herself melting and sweet,
pleading with her mother to let her go, swearing that she loved no one,
while Mother railed at her, so on fire with inner rage that it really
frightened Alessandra, for a moment at least. Even in rehearsal Mother
had not been so vehement. Alessandra doubted that Mother had been
holding back before—Mother was not skilled at holding back.
No, the special fire came because of the audience.
    But not the whole
audience, it became apparent as the scenes progressed. All of
Katharina's lines about the unfairness of her father and the stupidity
of men were invariably shot directly at Admiral Morgan! It wasn't just
Alessandra's imagination. Everybody could see it, and the audience at
first tittered, then laughed outright as barb after barb was directed,
not just at the characters in the play, but also at the man sitting in
the middle of the second row.
    Only Morgan himself
seemed oblivious; apparently, with Mother's eyes directly upon him, he
merely thought that the performance, not the meaning of the words, was
aimed at him.
    The play went well. Oh,
the Lucentio scenes were as boring as ever—not Ender's fault,
really, Lucentio was simply not one of the funny roles. It was a fate
that Bianca shared, so Alessandra and Ender were designed only to be a
"sweet couple" while the focus of attention—of laughter
and
of romance—was entirely on Katharina and Petruchio. Which
meant, despite the best efforts of a pretty good Petruchio, that all
eyes were on Mother. He would be shouting, but it was her face, her
reactions that got the laughs. Her hunger, her sleepiness, her despair,
and finally her playful acquiescence when Katharina finally understands
and begins to play along with Petruchio's mad game, all were fully
communicated by Mother's face, her posture, her tone when she spoke.
    Mother is brilliant,
Alessandra realized. Absolutely brilliant. And she knows it. No wonder
she suggested a play reading!
    And then another
thought: If Mother could do this, why wasn't she an actress? Why didn't
she become a star of stage or screen and let us live in wealth?
    The answer, she
realized, was simple: It was Alessandra's birth when Mother was only
fifteen.
    Mother conceived me
when she was exactly the age I am now, Alessandra realized. She fell in
love and gave herself to a man—a boy—and produced a
child. It was unbelievable to Alessandra, since she herself had never
felt any kind of passion for any of the boys at school.
    Father must have been
remarkable.
    Or Mother must have
been desperate to get away from Grandmother. Which was far more likely
to be the truth. Instead of waiting a few more years and becoming a
great actress, Mother married and set up house-keeping and had this
baby—not in that order—and because she had me, she
was never able to use this talent to make her way in the world.
    We could have been rich!
    And now what? Off to a
colony, a place of farmers and weavers and builders and scientists,
with no time for art. There'll be no leisure in the colony, the way
there is on the ship during the voyage. When will Mother ever have a
chance to show what she can do?
    The play neared the
end. Valentine played the widow with surprising wit and
verve—she absolutely understood the part, and not for the
first time Alessandra wished she could be a genius and a beauty like
Valentine. Yet something else overshadowed that wish—for the
first time in Alessandra's life, she actually envied her mother, and
wished she could be more like
her.
Unthinkable,
yet true.
    Mother stepped away
from her stool and delivered her soliloquy straight to the
front—straight to Admiral Morgan—speaking of the
duty a woman owes to a man. Just as all her barbs had been aimed at
Morgan, now this speech—this sweet, submissive, graceful,
heartfelt, love-filled homily—was spoken straight into
Morgan's eyes.
    And Morgan was riveted.
His mouth was slightly open, his eyes never wavered from full attention
on Mother. And when she knelt and said "my hand is ready, may it do him
ease," there were tears in Morgan's eyes. Tears!
    Petruchio roared his
line: "Why there's a wench! Come on and kiss me, Kate!"
    Mother rose gracefully
to her feet, not attempting to pantomime a kiss, but