not killed off, but her agent got the producers to write the part smaller
and smaller, limiting the time Ursula had to spend in Canada. Will
had joined the series—someone’s cameo idea run amok. She continued
missing the Will of catering gigs and anonymity. She looked for a script
that could evoke those days of hiding out in ordinariness and invisibility, a script that would give them a chance to perform it, to manifest that
moment when touched by the gods or God their bodies altered space.
She wanted that rush when the fire between them blazed and made them
visible. She wanted to see it one more time, that instant of transfiguration, captured on film. She wanted to feel it again. In the doing. In the
watching. Without the campy trappings. Without the wig or flaming
lips. Without the skinny pants or red capes or bustier or black leather
boots. Without the fetish-high heels. It would have to be a comedy, she
thought. Comedy was the only solution. Just the two of them, alone,
ordinary bodies, working a crowd, offering exotic finger foods and flutes
Catherine Gammon is the author of the novels Sorrow (
Braddock Avenue Books, 2013) and Isabel Out of the Rain (Mercury
House, 1991). Her fiction appears most recently in Cincinnati Review and New England Review, along with NER’s online interview, “Behind the Byline.” www.catherinegammon.com.