Mimina Optimus Maximus

Mimina’s life had always revolved around the theatre. The children of that close-knit troupe understood stories, and they saw the messages behind them. They knew the people behind the masks. To Mimina, those were everyday things. Mundane in a comforting, safe way, that included the passion and love towards the magical world of the theatre.

Every member knew how lucky they were, to still be living in that world every day. So lucky, that they found it hard to believe themselves.

Mimina didn’t need to go far to see that things weren’t so simple anywhere else. Even in her child’s mind she was sensitive enough to notice how the magic she perceived when stories came to life, wasn’t so easily accessible to more than a portion of other people. On the stage, among the devoted troupers, their faithful audience, and most of all in the connection of the two perspectives, the magic was present. But not really anywhere else.

In the eyes of the masses, Mimina and her troupe, her family, were crazy. In their own eyes, they were the chosen.

By the age of five, Mimina had grasped the core idea. She believed she was a part of this unconditional sense of belonging. That which held the group together. By that time, she was already eagerly waiting for her turn to step on stage, to face the curious crowd, to make them laugh, make them cry, make them feel the hidden truths in the stories they brought before everyone’s eyes.

While Mimina was too small, she only watched, of course. At rehearsals, Mimina sat and watched. She sat and watched every performance behind the stage. Even when there was nothing happening on the stage, Mimina sat and watched it sometimes. She let her mind draw her own visions on the empty stage. If Mimina wasn’t sitting there, she was practicing her skills in dancing and playing a flute, so she could soon join everyone on the background.

When Mimina was seven years old, she had already noted the troupers never married outside the troupe. Mimina didn’t know why exactly, but she didn’t feel the need to ask. She didn’t need it to be otherwise, given the harsh picture she already had of the outside world. So, as a young child, Mimina had already announced to everyone how she was going to marry Nonus, who was about ten years older, dark, and handsome in Mimina’s eyes. Mimina liked to remind everyone of her plans, but not because she was aware of any romantic feelings for Nonus. Rather, it was because every time she said it, she made the adults share a warm laugh. They thought she was entertaining. Those were the first times that Mimina felt the stage was hers. Even Mimina, as knee-high as she was, could be enough to create small sparks of stage magic: She could make people laugh.

Mimina’s greatest hero, the one she most looked up to, was her own mother, Floriana. Mimina felt a pang of pride in her chest every time she saw how dearly her mother was loved among the troupe. Floriana was tall, strong and beautiful. Her voice was full, warm, and deeper than the other women’s. She was almost always the one to play the leading lady.

Mimina had reached her ninth summer before she realized there was anything out of the ordinary about her mother. She had rarely seen another theatre troupe’s performance. Other troupes were smaller, and performed on the streets and squares, where Mimina didn’t spend much of her time. But eventually, she saw enough, to have to ask the question: Why was it that women never acted in any of the other troupes’ plays? Why were they kept in the background, only playing music and dancing?

The answers Mimina got, were vague, but the truth eventually dawned on her. She didn’t know why it was so, but she knew there was a rule. A rule her troupe was breaking, and doing their best to hide it from everyone.

– Maybe one day the time comes, when no one has to hide, Mimina’s father Baldus said sometimes. – People love your mother on stage. One day, they’ll love her, or someone else, so much that if the truth comes out, it won’t matter.

After that, Mimina visited the city to run her parents’ errands more often than before. She wanted to grow as tall as her mother. She wanted to look strong, and speak in a low voice, so she could act with the troupe some day. So that the audience, far away enough from the stage, could mistake her for a man playing a woman. Like her own mother. The thought was weird to Mimina at first. Her mother was the most feminine creature in the whole universe to her.

Mimina’s father had never said a word against her daughter’s dream to act on stage. He was the head of the troupe and the casting was his responsibility, more than anyone else’s. Sometimes other women acted too, and not just Mimina’s mother, but Baldus, though an idealist at heart, wasn’t fond of risks. The fact that they went against the norms, wasn’t supposed to ever be revealed to the audience.

Mimina was her father’s treasure, his spoiled little girl. Baldus watched carefully over her training in dancing and music, to let her on stage the moment she was ready for it.

Sadly, neither one of Mimina’s parents got to see their beloved daughter perform. The year Mimina turned ten years, both of her parents were killed. Floriana, and a baby brother Mimina had been eagerly waiting for, were taken by a miscarriage. Baldus was crushed by grief, and maybe it was the reason his health failed him at a crucial moment. The troupe that lived on the edge of the city, was mostly safe from any plague, but once, after spending a rather long time in the city, Baldus was sure he’d caught some infection. They had already heard dozens of citizens had died of something, and soon Baldus had made the decision to not put anyone else in danger. He left the troupe, and was never seen again.

Mimina’s uncle Aulus took charge after that. His love for the troupe and the magic of the theatre was as great as his brother’s had been. The troupe recovered, but it was never again quite what it had been, after the loss of their two brightest stars.

Mimina had just enough time to create the picture in her head: the wood cracking, red wine splashing on the cobblestones, and staining the white stole, before she managed to catch the cask into her arms. She sighed in relief. Drusilla, who’d dropped it, had only had time to cover her mouth with her hand and gasp. Now, she burst into laughter.

– Maybe I should be carrying this, after all, Mimina said and grinned. It was closer to a smirk than a smile, and Mimina couldn’t entirely hide the blame in her voice. The troupe wouldn’t take the loss of expensive wine with merely a shrug.

Drusilla agreed with an embarrassed nod.

– I don’t understand how even a cask as small as this can be so heavy. You carry it like it’s nothing, she said, pouting a bit. Mimina gave a laugh. She’d practised for years. She’d wanted to be like her mother so much. Even so, Mimina had not inherited her mother’s height. She was fifteen already, it would be obvious by now if she was going to grow tall. She wasn’t short but she wasn’t tall. Concerned of her height, Mimina had worked even harder to grow muscle.

– Look at my arms, Drusilla whined. – They’re so thin I’m embarrassed. Yours are full and beautiful, like the rest of you. You could marry a rich man, and he’d never guess you’re a trouper.

Mimina laughed, but only because it was so like Drusilla to let out any impossible thought she had.

– Don’t say things like that! Anyone even a little bit serious would not like it. Besides, I’ve belonged to Nonus my whole life. Don’t you remember Uncle has decided we are to marry next summer? He thinks it’s unnecessary to wait, now that everyone can see I’m a woman already.

Mimina lifted her chin with pride.

– Apparently, he still thinks it’s necessary to wait until summer. The days of fruitfulness! Drusilla said, waving her hands dramatically. – Your uncle is so superstitious no other perfectly safe day is good enough for him.

Mimina shrugged.

– But it’s understandable. Nonus’ parents had even worse luck than mine.

Mimina knew her uncle bore scars as deep as she did, for the loss of her parents.

– He’s only trying to protect us from any danger in our marriage. He’s afraid our parents’ destinies will follow us if we don’t do everything as flawlessly as we can.

– You can’t though, Drusilla said. – You and Nonus are already technically living under the same roof. Nothing is really going to mark the change in your life.

Mimina pondered her friend’s words. She couldn’t help but see some sense in the way Drusilla spoke against superstitions. Sure, she was a dreamer, scatterbrained and careless, but no one else had the nerve to be so sceptical about beliefs older than themselves. Not out of the people Mimina knew, anyway.

That night Mimina performed on her beloved stage with other girls her age, dancing in praise of the hero of the play. It had been three years since Mimina’s debut, almost to a day, but she still hadn’t had a chance to make her dream of acting come true. She was content though, dancing and playing music in every single performance.

In tonight’s play, there was a special scene at the end, when the actors had already left the stage, and the dancing girls got the undivided attention of the audience. It was new, and Aulus had been prepared to remove the scene, had the audience responded to it badly, but nothing alarming had happened. This was the seventh time already that Mimina danced, enjoying the applause. The dance grew faster towards the end, and then ended suddenly. It made the audience quiet for a moment, then the clapping and the whistling started, and Mimina listened to it all eagerly, before she danced away from the stage with the others.

– You had such a great energy last night, Mimina heard from Cassia the next day, to her great surprise, since the woman wasn’t chatty and always chose her words carefully. They were looking for cheap vegetables and supplies from the market. Cassia was one of the two women who ever got actual parts to play. It was so rare to be praised by her. Mimina blushed from pleasure. Cassia did not resemble the gentle Floriana by much, but even so she had been a kind of a teacher in Mimina’s life after her mother had died. Mimina respected and loved her dearly.

– It was nothing, Mimina said. – At least, I’ll never think anything of myself until I can really perform, like you.

Those words made something like doubt cross Cassia’s face. It was the same expression Mimina had seen on every other adult’s face recently, whenever someone spoke about the distant future. As if what they saw there, was cloudier than ever before.

– I know we’re not doing exactly great right now, Mimina said carefully. – People don’t come as much, but… It has happened before, hasn’t it? It’s going to get better again, like before, right?

Cassia’s expression didn’t betray an immediate answer, and Mimina knew she wouldn’t share an unfinished thought. Then she suddenly turned to look elsewhere.

– But, isn’t that your betrothed, Cassia said with a smile. – I wouldn’t want to keep you from him. I can manage the errands on my own.

Cassia quickly patted Mimina on her head, so Mimina knew without a doubt that she didn’t want to answer her questions and was using this opportunity to send her away. Mimina decided not to argue, and turned to go to Nonus, leaving Cassia behind with a smile. She tried her hardest to make the worry go away.

Mimina and Nonus walked together from the city, chatting aimlessly. Mimina still couldn’t shake Cassia’s worried face from her mind. It had definitely been worry she had seen there, Mimina was sure of it. It made her think the restlessness she’d felt inside for months, and seen on other trouper’s faces, had to be more real than she had ever really let herself think before.

Nonus, who had basically known Mimina from birth, noticed that something was off with her, of course. When he asked, Mimina had to think before answering. She was certain Nonus knew things she didn’t, and wanted him to think she was smart enough already, that he could tell her what he knew.

– Do you think our troupe is threatened by more than just… smaller audiences? Mimina asked finally. She saw Nonus was startled by her frankness, but then a quick smile crossed his face.

– I guess you’ve always been perceptive, he said. – And I’m definitely getting more worried now, that I hear my own thoughts from your mouth.

Mimina let out a sigh.

– Hasn’t Uncle Aulus said anything to you? Or someone else?

– Only hints. Like, that if I’m worried I shouldn’t show it to the kids.

– What awful secrecy! Do they think we aren’t going to notice anything if something is bothering them? Mimina said, her eyes turning fiery. She was to be married to Nonus soon, and her uncle still thought of her as a kid! But, she swallowed her anger quickly and tried to think about it more from the adults’ perspective.

– But… I guess they don’t know themselves, how worried we really should be, she said, thinking about Cassia’s face earlier. – At least, I would like to think they would tell us if they knew what the future looked like.

– Is it just their restlessness that’s bothering you? Nonus asked, his eyes thoughtful.

– Not really, Mimina said. – I’ve also been noticing that Cassia and Valeria have begun to wear a palla.

Nonus scratched his head.

– They have, now that you mention it.

But he didn’t seem to see what Mimina saw.

– Don’t you think it’s odd? Mimina asked. – They’ve never worn it before. No one has.

– How should I know what the women think, Nonus said, rolling his eyes. – Maybe they just want to stand out since they’re the only women acting.

Mimina shook her head.

– No, no, don’t you see it has to be just the opposite! They’re hiding themselves. Think about it. On the stage everyone wears a mask, so their face is hidden from the audience. And now that they’re wearing a palla whenever they go to the city, their face is the only thing that isn’t hidden! Don’t you think they’re doing it so that no one could recognize them? So that no one could figure out those women have been acting on stage?

Nonus looked thoughtful, but unsure.

– Your mother never wore a palla, he said.

– Maybe she didn’t have to. Not then. But what if it’s different now? What if that’s what everyone is so worried about, that the acting women might be found out? Maybe someone has expressed doubts about the actors? Maybe it’s never been a real threat before?

Nonus still looked sceptical, but he had to admit that Mimina might just be onto something.

When Mimina and Nonus came home, Drusilla ran right to them.

– Oh, what are we going to do, we’re in so much trouble! she shouted dramatically. Mimina and Nonus were startled. Their minds went right back to the conversation they had just had.

– It looks like Valeria broke her leg! And she was supposed to play Psyche tonight!

For a split second, Mimina and Nonus were relieved, but then got worried again, for Valeria and the play. They knew the troupe couldn’t afford to cancel even one night.

Valeria was resting in the room where all the adult women slept, and she looked defeated. A group of people was hovering around her, discussing what options they had for tonight. All the men, and Cassia as well, had a role already. Then Valeria herself looked straight at Mimina, who had just stepped into the room.

– Couldn’t Mimina be Psyche? she suggested, to everyone’s surprise. Mimina was so taken aback by it, she dropped the pillows she had been asked to bring for Valeria’s leg.

Everyone looked at her in silence. Then, Mimina saw smiles and nods.

Mimina was breathing heavily, waiting for the moment she would have to do it, step on stage. Here it finally was, the dream she’d had for all her life. She couldn’t yet feel happiness, or even excitement about it. In that moment, she was just terrified, and it took all the space from any other feeling or thought.

Mimina knew Psyche’s role. She’d been playing the flute in every performance and watched every single rehearsal. She knew everyone’s lines, not just Psyche’s. Even so, she was terrified. But she didn’t have time to think about it any more. She needed to step into view.

On the stage Mimina’s mind was free from herself. She wasn’t Mimina any more. In that moment, there was no one but Psyche. Even the fact that Nonus was playing Eros, couldn’t bring Mimina back. Nonus didn’t exist either, because Psyche never knew him.

The audience loved Mimina and Mimina loved them. After the performance it was difficult to return to the reality. After Mimina was Mimina again, she knew she could never forget this first real role she’d had on stage. This magical night would stay within her, no matter what happened.

And it did. It was one of those things Mimina could hold on to, for her entire life.

She was not able to hold on to Nonus, whom she’d believed she would marry, ever since she was a child. When she lost him to pneumonia, she didn’t know what he had been to her, in the end. Mimina knew she was grieving a friend, a friend she’d known her entire life, but that was all she could say about it.

Mimina was not able to hold on to her dear theatre troupe either. Had it always been just a matter of time, when someone would realize they were breaking the rules, having women as actors? And was it a natural outcome, should they have seen it coming, the shame, the bloodshed?

Not many escaped it, and Mimina, who’d been miraculously saved by a trouper named Felix, often wished she had died with the others. With Drusilla, who had been like a sister to her. With Cassia, who had taught her so much. With Valeria, without whom she’d never had her magical first night as Psyche.

Mimina and Felix travelled far away with Uncle Aulus, as far as they could from the old city. They did their best to adapt to the common way of living. Mimina and Felix found a job at a public bathhouse and made a living for themselves and Uncle Aulus, who was getting old.

Mimina had seen it coming, when Felix proposed to her, and she knew Aulus would approve of her marrying the man who had saved her life. And Mimina herself had no reason to turn him down.

Aulus did not live long after seeing his niece marry.

Mimina lived a long life. Felix died before her. Their children died before her, some young, some as adults. After she was alone, she still worked at the shop she and Felix had started together.

But Mimina was happy, and she wasn’t truly alone. Everyone knew Mimina. She was the grandmother of the entire neighbourhood. The one with the stories. Kids, youth, and even the adults visited her, helped her around. Everyone wanted to hear what kind of exciting stories old Mimina would come up with the next day.

And really, Mimina’s stories never ran out. Nobody knew the world of stories better than her. And the way she told them was so lively, she could make the audience live the lives of the people in her stories, to look with their eyes and hearts.

If the townspeople had been asked, which was the most magical story Mimina knew, they all would most likely have answered the same. Nothing was as great as the stories of the Chosen.