Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

"Yes," She smiled. "But don't go telling people I advised you to tell lies." she warned and we both laughed.

We started rehearsing again. She wanted me to keep eye contact, to look mesmerized by Death. She brought herself so close to me, to my lips, I felt my heart flutter in a panic. I think she saw it in my eyes finally and stopped.

She looked embarrassed for both of us.

"Well, let's take a short break. Would you like something to drink... tea. perhaps? It's always a good idea to have some tea and honey when you're on the stage."

"Fine," I said.

While I waited I looked about her living room. She had some pretty vases, some crystals on a shelf, inexpensive paintings of Paris. French villages, a seacoast scene that was somewhere in Italy. Were these places she had been or places she dreamed of visiting? What I realized was there were no pictures of family.

"Have you been to any of these places?" I asked nodding at the pictures when she returned with our cups of tea and some biscuits.

"Oh. No, but I will get there someday," she said. "Maybe even this summer. I've been saving."

"Where are you from. Miss Hamilton?"

"Well." she began setting the tray down and offering me my cup, "I'm from lots of places unfortunately."

"Why unfortunately? Was your father in the army or something?"

"No." She sipped her tea, looking at me over the cup for a moment as if she were deciding whether she should fall back on illusion or deal with the truth. She chose the truth. "I never knew my father, nor my mother.'

"I don't understand." I said.

"I was an orphan. Cinnamon, then a foster child.'

"Oh." I felt terrible asking personal questions now. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ply."

"It's all right. I think my being an orphan had a great deal to do with why I wanted to get into the theater first and then into teaching. When you're in a play, the whole cast becomes an extended family, especially if it has a long run. You're sometimes closer to your fellow actors than you are with your real family. At least, that's what they all used to tell me. Now I enjoy teaching, being close to my students, being a real part of their lives. Sometimes. I think I'm more involved, more concerned because I don't have a real family."

"Were you ever married?" I asked, nearly biting my own lower lip after asking.

She smiled again, sipped some tea. put her cup down and looked at me.

"You would think that nowadays people would be a lot more tolerant of women who weren't married or in a relationship by my age, but some ideas are branded in Our social consciousness so deeply, we can't help being suspicious or critical of others who don't fit neatly in little boxes. Don't think I haven't been urged by older teachers and by administrators to settle down. As if it's my fault that Mr. Right hasn't come along," she added.

"I was almost married once, but in the end, we both decided it wouldn't have worked," she continued. "We were sensible and mature and lucky. Most people get involved too quickly these days and their relationships don't have the timber to last. Then, there's all that unfortunate business afterward... one or the other drifts away or things get unpleasant.

"You've got to really believe this is it for you, Maybe I'm more careful than most people because I never had a real parent-child relationship."

She paused and laughed.

"It's fun to be your own psychotherapist sometimes, but most of the time. I'd rather just let destiny unravel the spool called Ella Hamilton."

"Ella?"

"Yes," she said sipping her tea.

"Well if you had no mother or father, who named you?"

"Someone at the orphanage. I suppose. I never minded my name. It means a female possessing supernatural loveliness. How's that?"

"That's very nice."

"Actually, it's a name that fits you better than it does me. Cinnamon."

I didn't blush as much as feel a warmth travel up my neck, a warmth that made me