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“Laura Mae, open up… you gotta read this, you just gotta read this…” She heard from the other side of the door: it was The Manager of the theatre, morning papers in hand, as she found when she flung the door open to berate the man.



Chapter Six – And the performer rises.



That morning Bertram had awoken to bright sunlight shafting into his room, with his incessant headache worse than ever. He had rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head. He rolled over and pulled the sheet and blankets over his head.



He’d lain abed, mollified at the previous night’s events…



Then, less than half an hour later he turned over and pulled the bedding tighter around himself, at the sound of Laura Mae’s strident voice, as she knocked repeatedly on his door: “C’mon sleepy-head, it’s time to get up and read the papers!”



In response, Bertram groaned once more, in part due to his headache – but, also at the memory of passing out on stage…



He sat and eased himself around, placing his bare feet on the large brown rug at the side of his bed: Bertram was not surprised to find himself back home, naked bar his greying long-john’s; yet this time his discomfort was not due to his beating.



He tried to locate his sense of balance, wishing yet more that his seemingly perpetual headache would finally cease.



But it was Laura Mae, so on feet that needed steadying, he rose and walked toward the door which he opened, to find her standing before him, looking as beautiful as ever, carrying a small pile of newspapers in both hands.



“You have to read these Bertram, you have to!” She told him, her enthusiasm showing in her voice, as she stepped into the apartment.



She handed the pile to Bertram and told him, “You read these and I’ll make coffee.”



He walked to his bed, carrying the papers and, momentarily curious as to why he was not embarrassed to be with Laura Mae, in just his underwear. But he wasn’t…



He sat, wishing once more that his perpetual headache would finally cease. Bertram then accepted the proffered coffee off Laura Mae and reached for pebble-thick, round, reading glasses.



Briefly he looked up to Laura’s face, as he settled the pile of papers on his lap and then he began to read, sipping at his coffee absently…

“C’mon sweetie, rise and shine…” she told him, confused yet finding her assertive self quickly enough, so that when Bertram’s eyes opened, it was to the Laura Mae he had come to rely on: “Time to go,” She told Bertram, as she helped him to stand.



Chapter Five – A Visitor Calls



This time the gazette did not carry its review on page seventeen. No, this time they made page two, with a subdeck that ran, ‘Local Man Predicts and Falls.’



There had been no mention of Laura Mae, which had pleased her. But, she wanted to know whether the act was no more… ‘After all,’ she mused two days later, as she stirred the sugar in her coffee, ‘I can’t sit around ‘ere all day, no money in that…”



Sit around is just what she had been doing, wearing just her slip and mules, with her hair worn up, tied off her shoulders.



It was ten in the morning and she was loathe to get dressed, so the knock on her apartment door was an irritant indeed.



“Laura Mae, open up… you gotta read this, you just gotta read this…” She heard from the other side of the door: it was The Manager of the theatre, morning papers in hand, as she found when she flung the door open to berate the man.

Laura Mae smiled: she had enough experience with men to know that afterward, they were always pliable. And, so it would be with Bertram – of that she was sure.



Chapter Four – A Performer Falls



As surely as night follows day, that evening saw the little man back on stage: the only sign of his ordeal being a bandage round the top of his forehead; but that was covered by he top hat he wore in the act.



Laura Mae had instructed him not to remove it when he bowed: he did not.



The act had gone well, for them both, except for the persistent throbbing headache digging away at Bertram’s forehead. And then, they got to Mrs. Macready.



Laura Mae had announced her to the audience and, then provided the code words intended, to provide the information Bertram, her Memory Man would need.



Suddenly – He put his hands to this head, to illustrate he’d had thought.



Then, just as suddenly, his headache was gone and, with clarity of thought, Bertram was able to truly see all about Mrs Macready, as if the scarf so artfully placed over his eyes were not even there.



Mrs Macready had arrived in the States in ’92 from Eastern Europe, leaving behind an abusive husband and one of her two sons.



Brow furrowed, at the flow of information, Bertram pulled the scarf from his face and asked, “So how is Ethan, do you know?”



Mrs Macready did not know and, she stood hand to mouth, eyes wide with shock:

“How do you know of Ethan?” She asked, each word drawn…



And as she paled, Laura Mae looked to the stage, where Bertram stood alone – lights shining on him from several directions.



“He looks different somehow,” she couldn’t help but think, as he raised his arms outward and turned slowly.



“There’s someone here who wants to know that if I really have power, then why don’t I play the ponies?” He stopped turning and pointed toward a tall fellow in a loud suit, or orange and black.



“No, no… it’s impossible!” The man wailed, standing and running up the aisle, to the foyer and the exit.



Laughter ensued, then the applause. And the clapping continued, with Bertram and Laura Mae the stars of the moment.



And so that is how The Gazette saw it, printing a brief review of the act on page seventeen, that used both their names, even going so far as to call Laura Mae ‘attractive’, much to her pleasure.



The theatres audience grew night on night and, Bertram did not disappoint. He would demonstrate his new found abilities, to Laura Mae’s astonishment and the delight of the growing audiences.



Needless to say, Laura Mae saw an opportunity and The Manager and, she easily got the raise that had been asked for…



Then a week later, the act did not go as Laura Mae intended, once again. This time though, she was not surprised.



Laura saw her protégé seemingly blank out, before her eyes… as he slowly drew the scarf from his eyes, much as he had that night with Mrs Macready.



He stood there, at the edge of the stage, staring blankly into the footlights.



Then moments later, his seemingly perpetual headache ceased and, with a clarity of thought he so rarely felt, he made his first prediction.



“In France, an American woman of African descent will become the first pilot of colour; she will also be the first woman of Native American descent to hold a pilot license and, she will lay the groundwork for those to follow her…”



Having said as he had, the little man fell to his knees, his arms limp to his sides, the palms of his hands falling open and upward, as if in supplication to a higher force.



And what he had said had not sat well with many of his audience… After all, this was a woman of colour he had spoken of and, Lincoln had enacted the emancipation act just sixty years earlier and, many did not believe in equality of race, yet.



As some of the audience became raucous the stage manager decided to bring down the curtain, literally: and, as the safety curtain met the stage Laurie man ran toward Bertram, smelling salts in hand…



“C’mon sweetie, rise and shine…” she told him, confused yet finding her assertive self quickly enough, so that when Bertram’s eyes opened, it was to the Laura Mae he had come to rely on: “Time to go,” She told Bertram, as she helped him to stand.