I'll Love You When You're More Like Me by M.E. Kerr Read Free Book Online Page B

the set when Sabra’s present, a full R.N.”
    â€œAn ulcer isn’t like that,” said Mama. “I know because Sam had one, too. She just needs rest. She needs an easy schedule.”
    â€œWhich she’ll get,” said Fedora. “From now on we’ll cut back her appearances, and we’ll depend a lot on just her voice, for telephone scenes and reveries. And listen to this—are you ready?”
    â€œShoot,” Mama said, as though we were at the opening of a new war.
    â€œI am going to add an entirely new dimension to Sabra’s character. The way I intend to do it is the way my public would want it done: very honestly, no punches pulled, nothing held back: the truth. Sabra in Hometown will discover that she has a duodenal ulcer!”
    â€œShe will?” Mama said.
    â€œShe will,” said Fedora, “and whatever happens to real-life Sabra will happen to Storybook Sabra. The stopping smoking, the gaining weight because of it, the—”
    Mama interrupted her. “Fedora, Storybook Sabra never smoked.”
    â€œThat will be taken care of. It will be discovered that she was a secret smoker for some time. We cannot settle for less than the full truth. I might have gotten away with a little blarney ten years ago—God knows twenty years ago it’d be three-fourths blarney—but I have to level with Mr. and Mrs. and Ms. America in this day and age.” She reached out and gave my knee a squeeze. “Well, honey, what do you think?”
    â€œYou mean I’m supposed to gain weight on television?” I said.
    â€œBe our guest,” said Fedora.
    â€œI don’t want to gain weight on television, Fedora. I’d hate that a lot!”
    â€œSo we’ll stuff you with a pillow, honey,” Fedora said.
    â€œI thought we were going to be perfectly honest.”
    â€œOh, sweetheart, the public doesn’t want that,” said Mama. “I mean, the public is tuned in to you because their own lives are unbearable and realistic, how long do you think we’d last if we imitated their own lives right down to the letter?”
    â€œI don’t see how you can be honest and then stuff me with a pillow,” I said.
    â€œDon’t be sidetracked by insignificant details,” said Fedora. “This new Sabra is going to receive a lot of attention! There hasn’t been anything like this on daytime since Melanie on My Life to Live had a facelift.”
    â€œWe can’t go one step further without asking Dr. Baird about it,” said Mama, who hadn’t even asked me. But I could feel the stirring of excitement starting somewhere in the vicinity of my ulcer, not an unpleasant feeling for a change, a certain uplift.
    Fedora said, “I’ve already talked with Dr. Baird. He’s agreed with me that if her schedule is cut down, and the tapings are done with minimal effort and no tension—a registered nurse will be on the set—and if Sabra wants to do it, then it’s okay.”
    â€œHe said you needed a registered nurse on the set?” said Mama.
    â€œHe didn’t say that but we’ll provide that. We’re going to get a lot of mileage out of this, Peg, and it’s positive: It instructs, and warns and helps viewers.”
    â€œWell I can tell you right now not to go to the expense of a nurse on the set. I mean what is the nurse for?”
    Fedora gave another one of her long-suffering sighs. “We want any reporters or interviewers to know we’re taking utmost care of Sabra.”
    â€œI get it,” Mama said. “Publicity.”
    I was beginning to feel the way actors said certain agents made them feel: like a piece of meat, little more.
    Fedora got my vibes and put her hand on my wrist. “Dr. Baird said if Sabra wants to do it, so I think Sabra has the floor now.”
    â€œDo you want to do it, honey? You don’t have to. We’ve got plenty in the bank,” Mama