A Fate Worse Than Death

Nine-year-old Rosemaria Baker sat entranced, staring up at Ingrid Bergman’s perfect features and glowing, alabaster complexion on the giant movie screen. Ingrid’s face seemed to barely move, and yet she so convincingly conveyed her confusion and fear as the gas lamps on the stairs flickered and sounds from the attic caused Ingrid to doubt her sanity. Olivia Baker, Rosemaria’s mother, sat beside her, completely enraptured by the charismatic actress and her villain of a husband who was trying to drive her insane. Neither Rosemaria nor Olivia moved or spoke as the story unfolded until, finally, Joseph Cotton stepped in to expose the malicious Charles Boyer as a scheming liar and fraud.

Rosemaria sighed contentedly as the credits rolled, but she was ready to leave. Hunger pangs reminded her that her mother had promised to take her to McDonald’s for lunch. Olivia, still enthralled by the movie, took her daughter’s hand and led her out into the sunlight. She had allowed Rosemaria to skip school and come with her to the budget theater in Simi Valley that periodically showed classic movies. The theater was close to their neighborhood, and Olivia spent many an afternoon losing herself in a world of movie make-believe. If she found out that one of her favorites was showing somewhere else in the LA area, she would sometimes make a special trip to see it. After all, as an actress herself, this was really research, not just entertainment. Ingrid Bergman was Olivia’s idol and ideal. She didn’t fool herself into thinking that she was as beautiful as Ingrid. With her auburn hair, green eyes, and freckles, Olivia knew she couldn’t compete with Ingrid’s stunning, Nordic good looks, but she felt confident that as an actress she had that same subtle acting technique through which she could portray any emotion effortlessly, without resorting to cheap theatrics.

They walked to their car in the parking lot, and Olivia strapped her daughter into the back seat. She spoke to Rosemaria in a voice tinged with regret. “Ingrid was twenty-nine when she made that film and had made other movies before that one. I’m already thirty and I still haven’t done anything important after seven years of knocking on doors.”

“It’s not too late, Mama,” Rosemaria piped up. She knew only too well how desperately her mother wanted to make it as an actress. “You’ll be beautiful for a long, long time still.”

Olivia bent over and kissed her daughter on the top of her head. “Thank you, my sweet girl. All I can do is keep trying.”

Rosemaria waited a few moments so she wouldn’t seem too eager to change the subject before she asked, “Can we go to McDonald’s now?”

Olivia laughed. “Fillet, fries, and a coke?”

“Yeah!” Rosemaria laughed with her.

****

Olivia pulled into the driveway of their ranch-style house, which looked almost identical to the other houses on the block. She clicked open the garage door and saw that her husband was home. He had pulled his gray Honda inside. Maybe that meant he had the day off from work tomorrow. She parked her own yellow Mazda beside the Honda.

Rosemaria unclicked her belt, full of childish glee. “Daddy’s home!”

She ran to the door and burst into the kitchen where Steven Baker—tall, handsome, with light-brown hair that was starting to get a little gray in the sideburns—was leaning against the counter with a can of Budweiser in his hand. He immediately put it down at the sight of his daughter. Rosemaria flew to her father, who then lifted her high in the air and hugged her close. “What’s going on, little girl? Why are you home so late from school?”

“Movie. Mom took me to a movie, and it was really scary. And then we went to McDonald’s.”

He looked up as Olivia came through the door. “Movie, huh? During a school day?”

Olivia gave him a peck on the cheek as she walked by on her way to the bedroom. “Playing hooky one day won’t hurt. I’ll tell the teacher she had a slight cold.”

Steven kept Rosemaria trapped in a bear hug. “I guess one day of missing class won’t keep you out of college.”

Rosemaria laughed. “Maybe I’ll be an actress instead. School is boring.”

Olivia turned around and waved her finger in the air. “Oh no, you’re going to have something to fall back on. Not like me.” She disappeared down the hallway.

Steven poured the rest of his beer down the sink. “Since you’ve been sitting all this time, how about we go to the park and do some batting practice?”

“Will you tell me about your day?”

“Of course.”

“All the gory details?”

Steven shook his head. “I’ll save those for when you’re a little older. Maybe next year.” He patted her on her back, sending her on her way down the hall. “Go get changed. You don’t want to let the boys outplay you.”

“Never!” She raced to her room.

****

“Were you scared, Daddy? Did you think that someone was still hiding in the house?” Rosemaria held her mac and cheese on her fork an inch from her mouth, waiting for his response. The dinner table was where she liked to drill her father about his day as a robbery-homicide detective, even though her mother would rather skip hearing about any of it.

Her father stopped chewing long enough to answer. “Well, we knew this was the house where the three robbers stored a lot of the stolen property, and we had a tip that one of them lived there. So, we were careful and cleared every room as we went through the house.”

“Cleared! That means make sure nobody is there!”

Steven smiled at his daughter, a pint-sized mirror image of her mother, and took another bite of mac and cheese. He chewed and spoke with his mouth full. “Exactly. You’re learning.”

Olivia watched them both and shook her head. “Are you sure all of this cops-and-robbers stuff isn’t going to give you bad dreams, honey?”

Rosemaria looked surprised. “I never have bad dreams. I like knowing what Daddy’s doing and where he is. Then I don’t have to worry about him.”

Olivia shook her head, resigned. “Okay, if you say so.”

Rosemaria took a big gulp of her grape juice. “And it sounds like fun, too.”

Her father’s expression turned serious. “I guess it can seem that way if you think that what I’m doing is like on TV, where bad guys are actors and don’t really die when they get shot. But in real life, people don’t always get up when they get hurt, and that means us cops as well as the bad guys.”

“Honey, now you’re scaring her.” She looked at her daughter. “Who wants some ice cream?”

“I do! I’ll help!” Rosemaria jumped up from the table just as the phone on the wall near the kitchen counter rang. She reached up to answer it and lifted the receiver to her ear. “Baker residence,” she said in a very businesslike manner. “Yes, she’s here.” She handed the receiver to her mom, who grabbed it and waited anxiously a split second before speaking.

“Hello.” Olivia listened intently. Then her face lit up in a wide grin. “I did? When? Okay… Okay… Thank you… Thank you so much!” She hung up the phone and faced her husband and daughter, who were looking at her expectantly.

“You know that play I auditioned for last week, the one at the Mallory Playhouse? I got the part!”

Rosemaria grabbed her mother around her waist and squeezed. “I’m so happy for you, Mommy!”

Steven stood up and enveloped his wife in a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you! Congratulations!”

“It’s Equity, honey! I’ll get paid. It’s not just 99-seat waiver. It’s Union!” Olivia went to the freezer, opened it up, and grabbed a big container of ice cream. She held it high. “Let’s eat till we burst!”

Rosemaria was already grabbing spoons out of the drawer.