Three hours after she began, Michelle opened the door to my grandmother's room and came out. She touched my arm distractedly, and then propped herself against the corridor wall. She looked exhausted.

"Here," I said, handing her the clipboard. "I promised the nurse an autograph if she would go away."

Michelle took the clipboard and stared at it like it was some sort of strange animal.

"Michelle," I said. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, taking the pen from the top of the clipboard and scratching her name on the piece of paper it contained. "I'm just very tired."

"How is grandmama?" I asked.

"She's nodded off in her chair," Michelle said, handing the clipboard back to me. "You should have the nurse put her to bed."

"I will," I said. "Did you get what you need?"

For the first time, Michelle looked directly at me. Her eyes were startling; they were the eyes of someone who had walked through the coals of Hell and came through them, but not unscathed, not without wounds.

"Your grandmother is a remarkable woman, Tom," she said. "Remember that. Don't ever forget it."

Then she lapsed into silence. We didn't talk again that day.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Avika Spiegelman said, referring to Michelle.

Roland had taken my advice and surprised Avika, saying only that he found an "interesting" actress that he thought might pull off the role. The withering glare she was now carpetbombing Roland with made me understand why he had been reluctant to go along with my scheme to begin with.

"We never got a full reading the first time," Roland said, holding his ground with aplomb. "I felt Miss Beck deserved that much before we rejected her out of hand."

"Roland, she fainted at the last reading," Avika seethed. "And a good thing too, since she was clearly incapable of the reading to begin with. I can't believe you would be wasting your time with her now, considering how little time you have left with this property."

Michelle, who sat in front of the video camera, just as she had at the last reading, had a smirk on her face that did not indicate she was taking Avika's insults seriously. Positioned as I was on the couch, I was getting the full panoramic view: Michelle's smirk, Roland's aplomb, Avika's seething. This was going to be a fun reading.

"Boy, it's swell to see you again too, Ms. Spiegelman," Michelle said.

Avika regarded Michelle coolly. "Aren't you supposed to be in a coma?" she said.

"I got over it," Michelle said. "Which, apparently, is more than you can say."

"You planning to faint again?" Avika said.

"I won't if you won't," Michelle said. "Do we have a deal?"

"Fat chance," Avika said, and turned to Roland. "I'm leaving now, Roland." She turned to leave.

"Bitch," Michelle said.

Avika froze. Very slowly, she turned around.

"What did you just say?" She spat at Michelle.

"You heard me perfectly well," Michelle said, leaning back in her chair with an air of supreme relaxation. "I called you a bitch. I was going to call you a raging bitch, but then I thought, why give you the courtesy of a modifier? You're just a bitch, plain and simple."

Avika looked like the top of her head was going to pop off. She turned to me. "Tom, do you always let your clients insult the people who can give them the roles they want?"

"Hey," I said. "I'm just here for the show."

"I'm not calling anyone who will give me a role a bitch," Michelle said. "Clearly, you have no intention of giving me the role. As far as I can see, the only reason I'm calling you a bitch is because that is what you so obviously are."

"I don't need to be insulted by you," Avika said.

"Well, you need to be insulted by someone," Michelle said. "And it looks like I'm the only one here with enough interest in you to do it. Sort of sad, really."

"Listen, you little shit," Avika said. "You don't even deserve to read for this part, much less play it."

"Well then, we're equal," Michelle said, "Since you don't deserve to make that decision."

"I'm her niece," Avika said.

"You're her third cousin, twice removed," Michelle said. "I checked. And your only qualification is that you're tangentially related. All you're interested in is appearances. I don't fit your notion of who your sainted aunt was, so I'm out."

"You're nothing like my aunt," Avika said.

"I'd say I'm a lot like your aunt. Your aunt spent a lot of her time flying in the face of ignorant morons who decided the world was one way and there was no other way the world could be. As far as I can tell, I'm doing the same right now. I'm more like your aunt than you are."

"How dare you say that," Avika hissed. "You can't even act."

Michelle smiled. "Neither could your aunt, bitch."

Roland, who had been observing the exchange between Michelle and Avika with an increasing expression of horror, glanced over at me with an expression that loosely translated to Get me out of here. I shrugged. There was nothing to do now but to ride this one out.

Michelle got up, grabbed a script, and walked over to Avika. "I'll tell you what, Avika," Michelle said. "I'll admit I could be wrong about you being a bitch. I'm entirely convinced you are, but it is within the realm of possibility that I'm wrong. But the only way you can prove it is to admit you might be wrong about me not being able to do the part."

Michelle slapped the script on Avika's chest. "The only way you're going to do that is to let me read. Come on, Avika. It can't hurt."

"I don't have to prove anything to you," Avika said, grabbing the script.

"Sure you do," Michelle said, turning around and heading back to her seat. "Because there's one difference between you and me, Avika. You see, I couldn't give a shit that you think I can't act. But it's clear that it bothers you that I think you're a bitch."

"Hardly," Avika said.

"Really?" Michelle said, sitting down. "Then why are you still here?"

Avika's mouth dropped open. Roland, a strapping man, looked like he wanted to curl up into a fetal ball.

"Come on, people," Michelle said. "Let's shit or get off the pot. Read me or don't, but let's make a decision."

Roland snapped out of it before Avika could utter another word. "What scene would you like, Miss Beck?"

"Your choice," Michelle said. "I really did memorize the script this time."

"The whole script?" Roland said.

"Sure, why not?" Michelle said, and glanced over to me mischievously. "Elvis did it."

Avika flipped the script open and read. "'How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do,'" Avika said. "'You are my wife, not my master.'"

"'I am your master's instrument, Josef,'" Michelle said, the words ripping out of her with an intensity that took us all by surprise. "'Go on the Judenrat and you turn your back on your people and your God. And you turn your back on me. For I am your wife, Josef. But cooperate with the Germans and we are not married. You will be as dead to me now as you will be soon enough by the hands of the Germans.'"

There was dead silence. We all stared in disbelief. Even me.

Michelle smiled sweetly. "Got your attention, didn't I?" she said.

Avika opened the script at random and quoted line after line. Line after line was responded to with the sort of stunning display of acting that you get to see one or twice in a lifetime. It was flabbergasting. It was impossible. It was the most incredible acting experience I'd ever seen. And it was just a line reading. We were all beginning to wonder what was going to happen once Michelle actually started acting for the record.

After an hour and a half, Avika dropped the script at her feet. "I wouldn't have believed it," she said, simply.