Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
How are you? I am fine.
I know it’s been a very long time — going on forty years, actually — but it’s not for lack of thinking about you. You come up in my head quite a bit, since you were my first, after all, and nobody forgets their first. Of course — and I’ll get this out of the way right at the top — the way we split up was agony for me, and that’s probably one reason I’ll never forget you. The same way I’ll never forget that horrible rollover accident I was in when I was fourteen. Things like that stick with you.
Anyway, last I heard you were living in Manhattan somewhere in the east sixties. I had a business trip there back in ‘92 and I looked you up in the phone book, but your number had been disconnected. Aside from the odd skim through Facebook and Twitter and Google, that’s the last time I made any effort to check on you. Seems like you have no internet presence whatsoever.
Gee, I hope you’re not dead…
The reason I’m writing today is that I wanted to tell you something that might make you feel good. I saw a review of the new film adaptation of Macbeth, starring Michael Fassbender and Marion Cotillard, and it made me think of you.
Well, as you might recall, we had broken up a few months before when, as a drama student at the college we both went to, you had to learn a scene from Macbeth and perform it in front of other students. You were Lady Macbeth, of course, and you picked the scene where she talks about plucking her infant from her breast and dashing its brains out.
For some reason that really stuck with me too.
All these years I’ve been associating my first lover with Lady Macbeth, and that strikes me as kind of weird. Interesting, but weird.
But the good thing I wanted to tell you: I’m probably the only person on earth who remembers that performance of yours, when you were Lady Macbeth talking about dashing her baby’s brains out. Everyone else there was a drama student more concerned with their own performances, or professors with visions in their heads of thousands of students doing that same scene.
For me, it felt like it just the two of us in the little rehearsal theater. And I remember that you were really good.
That’ll do it for now. Just thought I’d brighten your day a little.
PS — How come you never got famous?