I'm Glad My Mom Died(17)

Aside from the little breaks, there have been a lot of sub–little breaks, or hints at little breaks. I get callbacks for around 75 percent of the roles I audition for, which Barbara says is a good sign even if I’m not booking.

“She’s clearly doing something right,” Barbara says to Mom on the phone. (Barbara has started taking Mom’s calls instead of Laura. Moving on up!) “Just not right enough,” Mom always adds.

“She’ll get there. I’m telling you, she’ll get there,” Barbara says. “You’ve just gotta be a little patient.”

Mom hangs up, exasperated.

“Heavenly Father, please grant me patience. And be quick.”





14.


“OKAY, JENNETTE, WE’RE GONNA HAVE a quick conversation with the director and then we’ll come and get you,” the casting director tells me. I nod. My leg starts bouncing nervously. I can’t get it to stop.

I’m sitting in a room waiting to go in for my fourth callback for Princess Paradise Park, the current hot family drama film to audition for if you’re an actress between seven and ten years old. Apparently thousands of girls auditioned, but the role is now down to me and one other girl. It’s the closest I’ve been to a project this big.

I have my seventeen pages of lines down pat thanks to Mom’s help. Sometimes when we’re running errands together, she’ll just say “Go!” and I’ll know what that means because, even though I’ve had a few other auditions over this monthlong audition process for Princess, this is the audition that’s the most demanding, and the role I’m closest to getting. This is the one Mom cares about the most.

“Barbara says since it’s a studio film, the role would make you a star,” Mom tells me every time I get another callback. “You’d just get offers from then on. No more auditioning.”

No more auditioning does sound good. As I’m sitting here waiting to go in, I start fantasizing about how good it would be to not have to do the thing that cripples me with nervousness. To not have the constant nagging pressure of being chosen, and the sadness that comes with not being chosen. I’m in the middle of my fantasy when I hear Him, loud and clear in my mind.

“Jennette, I, the spirit of the Holy Ghost, command you to cross your name out on the sign-in sheet, go to the restroom, touch your underwear band five times in a row, twirl on one foot, unlock and relock the bathroom door five times, come back, and re-sign in on the sign-in sheet.”

I’m elated. He has spoken. The Holy Ghost, aka my Still Small Voice, has finally spoken to me. I’ve been waiting for Him to speak to me since my eighth birthday when I had my baptism.

The Gift of the Holy Ghost was definitely the gift I was most excited for. A friend from church did get me some gooey slime, though, which was a close second.

The Holy Ghost is a great guy up in heaven who helps out Heavenly Father and Jesus. He’s kind of like them, in spirit and attitude, but he’s different, too, because he lives in each and every one of us Mormons. And every day we can talk to him whenever we want to, and he can talk to us, guiding us to do what is right, which is whatever he tells us to do. We’re so lucky.

My first few weeks of having The Gift of the Holy Ghost were underwhelming. Maybe even disappointing, but I never told that to anybody at church. Whenever anyone asked me if I’d been communicating with my Still Small Voice, the Holy Ghost in me, I’d say yes, we’d been having all sorts of great conversations. And then they’d ask what the conversations had been like, what I’d been learning, and I’d say that I couldn’t tell them because the conversations were private.

But that’s not the truth. The truth is that I happily would have told any and everyone what my conversations with the Holy Ghost had been like if I’d had them. But I hadn’t had any. And I didn’t know why. I’d prayed privately every morning, afternoon, and night, on my knees even, to hear the Holy Ghost. Even though Mormons aren’t accountable for our sins until we’re eight years old, so I knew I hadn’t had a ton of time to really screw things up, I wondered if somehow I had.

Why haven’t I heard the Holy Ghost? I’d ask in my prayers. Is there something I’ve done wrong that has made me not deserve him? Is it my impure thoughts about Frankie Muniz? Please forgive me and send me The Gift of the Holy Ghost, whenever you get around to it. I know you’re busy, but I’m desperate here. I want to hear what he sounds like and what he tells me to do. Thanks.

My prayers didn’t work for a long time. Months. But now, today, at my final callback for Princess Paradise Park, here He is.

Okay, Holy Ghost, and why do you want me to do these things? I ask in my mind.

“To ensure that you do well at your Princess Paradise Park callback. If you do what I tell you to do, you will eventually book the role. When this happens, your mother will be happy and all of your family’s problems will be solved.”

Wow. I love how direct he is. I jump up out of my seat to accomplish the list of tasks he ordered me to do.

“Where are you going?” Mom asks me.

“I have to pee,” I tell her as I cross my name out on the sign-in sheet. She follows me into the bathroom and then into the stall. I touch my underwear band five times.

“What are you doing, Net?” Mom asks me, looking concerned.