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athingthatwantsvirginia · 5 years ago

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Going Carole King

PART FIFTEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: familial tension, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Thanksgiving brings pie-baking and family introductions.

Air in the diner was fragrant with spices, and Ella’s cheeks were flushed with the heat of the oven as she stepped back out of the kitchen. Only a few patrons peppered the red tables, Rory and Lorelai at the counter. They spoke about the four Thanksgivings they were roped into. A rare smile stuck out on Luke’s face as his palms rested on the counter, speaking with his one true love. Ella rolled her eyes at the sight. How could he be so oblivious? Shaking her head to herself, Ella turned to Jess, sitting on his stool near the kitchen door with 1984 in his hands. His brow was heavy with concentration, noting something in the margin.

“Some light reading, huh?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He looked up with a smirk at the sound of her voice. With hair pulled away from the hairline in a bandana and cascading down her back, Ella had an excited sparkle to her eyes and a streak of flour across her forehead. Jess licked the pad of his thumb and swiped it away. She scrunched up her nose.

“Now I have Jess spit on my face,” she said with a groan.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Snorting a laugh, she rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” Luke scolded, brows furrowed as he shot a look back at her. His hands went to his hips, and Lorelai and Rory snickered behind him.

Ella brought a hand to her mouth self-consciously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. God, you have hearing like the Bionic Woman!”

Only grunting irritably, Luke went back to his conversation. Ella scoffed and turned to Jess, who marked his place in his book and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. She brought her hands to his shoulders and his arms laced around her waist.

“Are you going for a record with those pies this year?” Jess asked. She’d arrived at the diner around six in the morning, and had cooked continuously until two in the afternoon. And he hadn’t seen her so jazzed since applications, though now the stress was far more pleasant.

She nodded. “Every year, it gets more impressive. Don’t you remember last year? You were here by then.”

Pursing his lips, Jess shook his head a little. “I think that day I was perfecting the chalk outline of a body.”

“How have you never been arrested?”

He shrugged. “There’s always time.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Right back at ya.”

Casting a glance over the counter at the nearly empty diner, she snuck a kiss to his cheek. Jess gasped, and placed a hand where her lips had been. “How dare you, Lady Chatterley!”

“Shut up,” she smiled, but then averted her gaze and turned more serious. “Hey, Jess?”

“Yes, Eleanor?”

Sighing heavily, she looked back up at him and clutched at her necklace. “Okay, my family’s coming to town tonight and considering Adam practically walked in on us the other day anyway, I thought maybe you could come for Thanksgiving?”

By the time she finished with her rapid speech, she slightly was winded. The key on her necklace zipped back and forth along its chain anxiously. Jess raised his eyebrows and sighed, running a hand over his mouth.

“Elle, your dad already hates me-”

“What? Why would he?”

“Do you not remember the hair gel comment?” he asked.

Ella scoffed. “It rings a bell but he’s an asshole to everyone. It doesn’t mean he hates you!”

“I’m working tomorrow.”

“So am I. But I get off at two. The festivities here are usually over by then, and I’m sure you can just come with me.”

“I don’t do families,” he argued.

“Well, I don’t do boyfriends but look what happened!” she countered, and he only stared back at her with his mouth set in a thin line.

She wasn’t planning to relent, but then the timer in the kitchen dinged and she breathed out a harsh breath through her nose.

“To be continued,” she said. She turned to Luke before retreating back into the kitchen: “Talk some sense into your nephew, please!”

“Trouble in paradise?” Lorelai chimed in, looking to the scowling boy, who hopped down off his stool and came to stand by Luke.

Jess didn’t reply.

“What happened? You roll your eyes at her one too many times or something?” Luke asked.

“You’re one to talk,” Lorelai said.

Jess sighed, speaking only to his uncle. “She wants me to go to her house for Thanksgiving.”

Luke stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jess shrugged, then noticed the flabbergasted looks both Lorelai and Rory shot his way. The mother and daughter then glanced at each other, sending nonverbal signals between them. Jess rolled his eyes. “What?”

Rory fiddled with the mug of coffee before her, speaking shyly. “It’s just...Ella doesn’t really...her family functions don’t ever exactly have open invitations.”

“Well, I must be special, then,” Jess said flatly, sighing again.

Luke sighed back, finally turning to Jess with a wary gaze. “You have to go. You’re off the hook tomorrow at two, okay?”

“I thought we talked about that totalitarian thing, Uncle Luke,” Jess said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning with his back to the counter.

“Just Luke,” his uncle grumbled, shaking his head one last time before going to write a receipt for a couple near the door.

A crash sounded from the back and Jess could hear Ella mutter a string of obscenities under her breath. Luke hardly batted an eyelash at the noise, and Lorelai and Rory giggled between sips from their giant coffee mugs. She didn’t have Sookie’s reputation, but Ella wasn’t known for being a silent presence while she baked by any means.

“You okay?” Jess called.

“Yes!”

“She’s beauty and she’s grace,” he deadpanned.

“Bite me, Mariano!” she shouted back, nearly a growl.

“You know she’s not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, don’t you, Bender?” Lorelai teased.

Chewing on his lower lip, Jess nodded. It was clear this was a hill she was willing to die on. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? At least if he met everyone he would be able to add faces to names. And the pleading look in her hazel eyes surely wasn’t helping him want to refuse her. Arriving back behind the counter, Ella pulled the sleeves of her burgundy sweater over her hands and brushed past Jess to grab the pot and refill Lorelai and Rory’s coffees. Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the counter next to her, Jess hung his head in defeat.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“What was that?” she asked, raising one eyebrow but not facing him.

“I know you heard me, Daria.”

“Well, I wanna hear it again, James Dean,” she said, finally locking eyes with him.

“Fine, I will come to the Stevens family Thanksgiving,” he repeated.

A wicked grin bloomed on her face and she stood on her tiptoes to plant another kiss on his cheek. “There’s that heart of gold. Didn’t think you’d cave so easily.”

“I’ll go if-”

“I swear-”

“If you play me something on Patty’s piano.”

She took a step back and confusion painted her face. “What? Why?”

“Well, I got to see the dance moves, now I wanna see the piano skills,” he explained, nonchalant.

“No way,” she said, shaking her head.

Jess shrugged. “That’s my final offer, ma’am.”

Hands in her back pockets, she let her narrowed eyes linger on his smug smirk for a moment. “Fine. Deal.”

“And you don’t subscribe to the Hallmark holidays.”

“Not happily. Believe me.”

. . .

Though the paint was faded, the Stevens’ door was still a decently bright shade of blue. They both stared at it, hand-in-hand, preparing to enter. Ella’s nails were bitten down and her heart was in the throat. She could only imagine what Jess was feeling; if he was anxious, he wasn’t showing it. Birds chirped in the oak tree in the front yard, despite the bitter bite to the cold wind. The sun shone down, and almost all the leaves had fallen off the trees. She fiddled with her necklace, and the smell of the Thanksgiving dinner cooking inside the house only made her queasy.

“You ready?” Jess asked, breaking the silence. She had been motionless, staring at the worn wood before them for over ninety seconds.

Swallowing dryly, she shook her head. “No.”

Taking her hand back from his, she smoothed down the font of her dark green dress. Her hair was back in a french braid, a stiffer ensemble than she usually went for. Then, she turned back to him. Though he didn’t have a baseball cap, Jess was giving his uncle a run for his money with the flannel and jeans look.

“Just...don’t let anything they say bother you, alright? Last night, I went over the whole thing and told them you’re my boyfriend and not just my friend, so that’ll probably make them want to interrogate you more,” she said, tugging gently at his collar to straighten it.

“I’ll try not to screw it up,” Jess told her, almost defensive.

An annoyed crease formed between her brows. “No, Jess, I don’t care what they think of you. And I figured it was time to get this over with. I’m just nervous they’ll scare you off.”

He scoffed. “Please. My mother’s a certified whackjob. If there’s anyone who gets the family thing, it’s me.”

Nodding, she let out a long breath. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “Getting to see you go all Carole King tonight will be thanks enough.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Mariano. You really shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Too late,” he said, kissing her cheek once and taking her hand again. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she sighed, then went to turn the knob.

. . .

Sitting on the overstuffed couch, Jess felt a little claustrophobic. Dinner had gone well enough. As it turned out, almost all the members of Ella’s family were a thousand times more talkative than her. Jess and Ella were mostly spared from the conversation, after the compulsory greetings and basic questions about him. The food was decent, though Ella assured him they could stop by Luke’s after to have the truly good meal later. Relatively full of turkey, various family members were sprawled around the living room, Fiona, Jake and Aunt Julie’s husband Michael chattering indistinctly in the peach kitchen. Jess sat in the corner, watching his surroundings, his hand in Ella’s. Her older brother Noah sat on his sister’s other side, quietly sipping a beer. Aunt Julie was across the room in the armchair by the TV, a toddler asleep on her chest.

Jess assumed it was the kid responsible for the projectile vomiting Ella had told him about over the summer. Amid the white noise of speech, Ella deep in a debate with her younger brother about the newest Harry Potter movie, a little redhead girl ran up to her.

“Ellie!” Erin chirped happily, her hands on Ella’s knees.

Immediately, Ella turned away from Adam, who sat on the floor by the TV, and focused on the child in front of her. Adam whined slightly, and Noah took over for Ella, though he spoke more softly than her and didn’t speak with his hands.

“Yeah, sweetie?” Ella asked.

Using a pudgy hand, Erin gestured for Ella to come closer, to be told a secret. Ella smiled over at Jess, who raised his eyebrows curiously and watched as she leaned over and let the little girl whisper in her ear.

Laughing slightly, Ella nodded and brought the little girl into her lap. She had just started kindergarten, but was very small for her age. She weighed practically nothing to Ella.

“Yeah, sure,” Ella said, turning to Jess with a little smirk. “Jess? Erin wanted to meet you.”

“Oh,” he said. Then, after a pause: “Hi.”

He felt his palms instantly begin to sweat. As an only child, he didn’t have much experience with kids. Was he good with them? Terrible with them? There was no way to know. Like people who had never been stung by a bee avoiding the insects at all costs, for fear of a life-threatening allergic reaction. Despite Ella’s insistence that it was not a test, that she was more concerned with him being scared off, Jess worried about his performance. He wasn’t good with parents. In fact, he wasn’t good with anyone. And he knew how much those kids meant to her.

The redhead girl extended her hand. “I’m Erin Mary Miller.”

Jess chuckled slightly and shook the tiny hand back. “Jess Mariano.”

“What’s your middle name?” Erin asked.

Ella smirked. “Great question. What is your middle name, Jess?”

She’d asked him a few times, but had never got it out of him.

“Santa Claus,” he answered flatly.

To his surprise though, the girl erupted in a fit of bright giggles. Ella laughed along with her, watching fondly.

“You’re not Santa Claus! He doesn’t live in Connecticut!” Erin exclaimed, shaking her head at Jess as though he were crazy.

“Really? Where does he live?” he asked.

“The North Pole, silly!”

“Oh, you’re right. I forgot,” Jess said, nodding.

Ella hummed. “Yeah, Erin knows all kinds of things. She just started kindergarten.”

“Congratulations,” Jess said, nodding at the little girl.

“Thank you!” she smiled, utterly charmed.

“Hey, Jess?” Ella asked, tilting her head a little as Erin hugged her around the middle again. She was a very affectionate child. “Do you have your cards with you?”

Nodding, Jess reached in the pocket of his jeans and produced the blue deck. He heard Erin whispering questions and secrets in Ella’s ear again. He began shuffling, then fanned them and held them out. “Pick a card.”

Over the next ten minutes, Jess did his best to dazzle the five-year-old, claiming he was pure magic. The conversation once or twice again veered to Santa Claus, since he had brought it up. Christmas was in only a month, after all. Though a pit of nerves still sat in his stomach, he began to feel calmer as he kept Erin laughing and Ella played along with his bits. Soon, Fiona came in and announced it was time for pie, for everyone to gather around the cramped dining table and card tables. The house was quaint, and clearly not meant for a big family on a daily basis.

Fiona was perhaps the member of the family Jess had been the most curious about.

Of course, he’d met Ella’s father. He could only barely see the resemblance, with Jake’s dark brown hair and height and blue eyes. It was clear Ella had gotten pretty much all her looks from her mother. And her brothers both looked more like their father. Noah was tall as well, though with Ella’s freckles. Adam had the same thick glasses, but Ella’s short height. He’d heard many things about all of them.

However, Fiona was the person definitely involved in most of Ella’s rants. Her father was usually the main source of tension, but Fiona certainly did no help to calm the situations, according to Ella. She was a tall woman, with hair dyed inky black. Chunky bracelets hung from her wrists and a heart pendant was clasped around her neck. She wore bright clothes and had a nasally voice. Her eyes were an icy grey. Overall, she wasn’t the most unlikable woman. She and Jake seemed happy enough, outwardly at least. But Jess could see immediately why she and Ella did not get along. Fiona was bubbly and chirpy and always had a toothy and people-pleasing smile on her face. She seemed Ella’s opposite in nearly every way.

After Fiona’s announcement, everyone made slow attempts to return to their places. Erin ran off immediately, eager for the promise of dessert. As Julie passed them into the kitchen, Annie still dozing on her shoulder, she offered Jess and Ella, hands attached again, a generous smile.

“Guess there’s gonna be a magic kit on the Christmas list this year, huh?” she said, chuckling.

Jess’s face fell slightly. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Julie interrupted, a bright smile only growing. “Nothing that’s got her laughing like that could be a bad thing.”

And, for a moment, just the two of them were left in the living room. Ella pulled him up off the couch and hesitated a moment before leading the way back into the kitchen.

“One more round, then we’re free,” she said, sighing slightly, though not altogether in irritation.

He nodded over at her wordlessly, smirking.

Ella squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before they entered the peach-tiled lion’s den once again.

. . .

Bluish light streamed in through the windows of the dance studio. They sat, full of both the Stevens and Danes Thanksgiving dinners, on the piano bench. Fingers poised over the keys, Ella felt her heart rise up in her throat. Usually, she didn’t get stage fright. But, usually, she was playing for a group of six-year-olds, and Miss Patty, who had known her since the day she was born. Jess waited, a smirk ever-present. The day hadn’t been quite as challenging as he’d initially imagined. Ella’s father had hardly been warm, but it was easier when there were other people around to distract from the interrogation. The festivities were just too hectic for a proper stripping down, and Jess suspected it was why Ella had chosen it as the moment to formally introduce him to her household.

“Today would be nice,” he teased, gesturing to the instrument.

“Shut up,” she hissed, shaking her head at herself.

Then, she swallowed down her nerves and launched into one of the first songs her mother taught her to play. Back when her hair was still always in pigtails and she wore overalls every single day. It was familiar, and as she sang in her rough, half-speaking voice (her grandmother’s jazz genes had certainly skipped over her), she smiled a little. She remembered her mother humming the song, “Rhiannon,” in the kitchen as she made dinner and in the living room as she sat cross-stitching on sleepy Sunday afternoons. Keeping her eyes on the piano, Ella’s cheeks flamed. When she finally finished, she had barely let the last note ring out before she started rambling, still not looking over at him.

“So, yeah, I can sort of play. But my mom was the one who was actually good. That one’s easy because it’s not traditionally a piano song, not like the classical shit I have to play for recitals and stuff, but-”

“Eleanor,” Jess said, cutting her short.

“Hm?” she asked, finally venturing a glance at him.

There was a soft smile on his face. “Come here,” he said in a husky whisper, a hand on her cheek as he leaned into her. He tasted like cinnamon and sugar, her own apple pie recipe. It was quiet and Ella almost felt a private world insulating them as they kissed.

And when she pulled away, she saw a kind shine in his eyes. Clearing her throat, she bit back a laugh. “So, was that the review?”

“You could call it that. You really don’t know how to accurately describe your talent.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly as she rolled her eyes, brushing off the compliment and taking in the moment. Starlight and cinnamon and deep brown eyes. Jess.

His eyes lingered on her. He would’ve said more, elaborated on how beautiful it sounded, but both her clear embarrassment and his own sheepishness stopped him.

“Y’know, I had my first kiss in this spot,” she said after a pause.

“Really? Does he go to our school?”

Her eyes fell a little, and she smirked self-consciously. “She graduated last year.”

Jess’s eyebrows shot up momentarily. “She, huh?”

“Yeah. And if you have a problem with that, you should tell me now so I can dump your ass.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” he assured her in earnest. “No problem at all.”

“Good.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, tucking a strand which had fallen loose from the braid behind her ear. “Lucky her.”

She scoffed. “More like lucky me. She was a year older and she was the best ballerina in the class. Stayed behind sometimes to practice while I was getting ready to fill in for shows, when my mom had already died but Mrs. Rotherschild was starting to have knee problems. I must’ve still been fourteen. Anyway...a few make-outs ensued.”

“Huh,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah. We never told anyone. And she was in New York for dance stuff most weekends anyway, so we couldn’t actually go out. She’s at Juilliard now...but yeah. I’m glad it happened. Definitely one of my better firsts.”

Huffing out a breath, Ella tugged the elastic from the end of her braid and shook it out as she spoke. Tight waves were undone and fell loose down her back. Her heart calmed, the tension releasing from her shoulders.

“Don’t...tell anyone about that, okay?” she asked, fiddling with her necklace again.

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “‘Course. Cross my heart.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, still smiling softly as he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Who was your first kiss?” she asked.

Biting his lip, he had to rack his brain a moment. He decided not to count the few random instances of spin-the-bottle. Back in New York when he went to parties he was probably too young for, bouncing between friends’ apartments during the day as his mother wooed her husbands-of-the-week.

“My first girlfriend. We were out smoking during lunch and I made out with her on a dare. But..she ended up being my girlfriend so it must not’ve been the worst kiss ever,” he said, shrugging casually at the memory.

She smiled. “Little Jess was quite the romantic, huh?”

Rolling his eyes and fighting his blush, he stood up and held his hand out to her. “Whatever. Are we renting The Godfather or what?”

“That’s the plan,” she said, placing her bag back on her shoulder and taking his hand. She could feel the cold air creeping through the cracks in the front door of the dance studio as they approached it, leaning into Jess's side. “So...I’ve already learned so much about you tonight. What’s the big deal if I know your middle name?”

Jess sighed, sliding the barn-style door aside as they emerged into the night. “Keep dreaming, Stevens.”

“I always am.”

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markwatkinsconsumerguide · 5 years ago

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Consumer Guide / No.98 / American television, film and stage actress, Bernadette Quigley with Mark Watkins.

MW : What’s new?

BQ : Currently, work is sparse as most of my businesses have been shut down because of the COVID-19 pandemic. No films or television shows are being shot in NYC at this moment in time and most of my side businesses are on pause as well. This season’s gardening work didn’t happen at all (because NYC had not yet deemed gardening an essential service).

Thankfully, I have a few coaching (acting) clients I work with often and I had one job before this pandemic hit that I’m still working on - a press and radio campaign for Irish singer-songwriter Ultan Conlon’s beautiful new record, ‘There’s a Waltz’. It’s been gratifying to see reviewers agreeing with me that it’s Ultan’s finest record thus far!

MW : Tell me about your role in Law & Order...

BQ : Well, I had four Law & Order roles, actually. Two are on Law & Order: SVU and two are on the mothership Law & Order.

My first big role on SVU was of a victim, Jean Weston, on the season finale of their 2nd season, many moons ago. This character was a mother and wife from Oregon whose husband and son got stabbed to death by a serial killer – played by Richard Thompson.

I’ll never forget this role for many reasons but primarily it was a job where I discovered I could cry on cue. The director and producers decided they wanted to end the episode with a huge close up of my character, breaking down in the gallery in the courtroom. One of the producers shouted out, “Bernadette…can you cry on cue!?” I meekly replied, “Sure.” Next thing I hear was…”rolling….” and “ACTION”… I looked up, terrified I wouldn’t be able to summon up tears but imagined the hell my character went through and looked deeply into Chris Meloni’s eyes and …phew!...started to cry!

The Law & Order franchise has been a godsend for many actors. Not just financially, which it has and still is but for me, the experience I gained working on those shows led to a lot more television and film work over the years, so I’m forever grateful to creator/producer, Dick Wolf.

MW : What are your own views on law & order? Anything you’d like to see relaxed or tightened up on?

BQ : Feels very naïve and idealistic to say this, but I’d love to see major, police reform. Police brutality is despicable and out of control, especially in Black communities.

I believe we’re beginning to see the power of the Black Lives Matter movement resulting in some of these police officers losing their jobs and sometimes being arrested themselves for their unspeakable acts of violence, but I imagine we, as a nation, need to keep the pressure on. The police brutality simply has to stop. There has to be more consequences for those senseless deaths. There has to be better training, etc...

I’d also love to see major gun control in this country. I would love to see guns banned. Period. But that’s highly unrealistic as this country tragically has a major addiction to their gun culture. Perhaps someday we’ll have some common-sense gun control again such as background checks, and high-capacity magazine and semi-automatic assault weapon bans.

MW : What was it like working with Kenneth Branagh?

BQ : I suggested Kenneth’s play “Public Enemy” to the Irish Arts Center’s Artistic Director at the time, Nye Heron, and was emailing and talking with Kenneth’s assistant quite a lot before setting up a meeting with Kenneth and Nye.

I was flying high that I helped to secure the rights to his play. Kenneth then came to our first read-through, and he came back to see a preview or two. He was an absolute prince, kind, intelligent, caring, witty.

However, this success was so bittersweet because my dad died right before we opened the play, a performance I had dedicated to him before he died (because my dad loved Jimmy Cagney, and the main character of the play was obsessed with Cagney). The play got great reviews and we ran for five months. It was so difficult for me to fully appreciate the success of this show as I was mourning the most devastating loss of my life.

MW : Which "shelved" film appearance of yours should have seen the light of day?

BQ : There’s a provocative film I am in about a racial experiment that is under the radar called, “The Suspect” (2014), which stars Mekhi Phifer, Sterling K. Brown and William Sadler.

By the way, I am currently in three indie films that I’m psyched for the world to see: I play a lead role in “Darcy” which is available (worldwide) to stream on Herflix.com; “The Garden Left Behind” has just landed international distribution, so stay tuned for the release date! And finally, I have an interesting supporting role in a film called “Tahara” which had its world premiere at Slamdance in January and is slated for more film festivals.

MW : What makes a good film/TV critic? Can you name any?

BQ : One that doesn’t give the plot, or too much dialogue away. I often don’t read reviews of films, or television shows, I want to watch because I love going in – not being influenced by another’s opinion. But sometimes, I’ll read reviews afterwards to learn more about the evolution of a film or TV show. I often find myself agreeing with A.O.Scott’s (NY Times) film reviews.

MW : How do you usually prepare for an acting role, and has a character ever taken you over?

BQ : The first thing I do is read the script several times and see what the words are telling me about the character, and how other characters view that person. If it’s a period piece, I research the era or history surrounding the event in the play, or screenplay. Eventually, I forget my research, learn my words and hopefully let the character inhabit me emotionally, physically and psychologically, spiritually etc…and try my best to be fully present with the other actors I’m working with moment-to-moment. Every project is different.

Yes, there were times, I found it difficult to shut off the pain of a character after some performances. Two that come to mind are two intensely emotional theatre roles I performed at the Repertory of St. Louis, Elizabeth Proctor in “The Crucible”, and Agnes in “Bug”.

MW : Is performing on film different to TV as an acting discipline?

BQ : I think it all depends on the style of the film, or television show. With a TV show like Law & Order, it’s formulaic and heightened realism (acting style) and so one makes sure one knows every single word, and hits one’s marks, and if it calls for emoting then one must emote! Some films I’ve done are grittier-kitchen-sink realism. A very minimalistic style of acting.

MW : Has your song-writer husband ever penned a song for you?

BQ : Yes, many….Don (Rosler) primarily writes for and with other artists – on the John Margolis: Christine’s Refrigerator CD, there’s many tunes that speak to many moments within the course of our lives: the title track (altho’ the name was changed), “Scrap of Hope” (a pep talk to me when I was stuck at a temp job I hated), “Here’s Something You Don’t See Every Day” (a wedding reverie that literally started in Don’s mind when I fell asleep on his shoulder), and he wrote an exquisite lyric for Bobby McFerrin’s Grammy-nominated record VOCAbuLarieS, a song called “Brief Eternity”… where his words infuse my love for gardening: “Working in the garden has you... ...Breathing in the bloom and then you View the sunset view to move you Close to truly understanding Life and death but nothing ending Voices living on”…..

MW : Tell me about some of your favourite music...

BQ : My music tastes are pretty eclectic – besides all the indie artists I’ve done publicity for, I love so many styles of music from classical to folk to country but here’s some of my fave artists: Tom Waits, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Pink, Beyonce, Billie Holiday, Ani DiFranco, Ibeyi, Sinead O’Connor, Prince, Bjork, Leonard Cohen, Kacey Musgraves, K.D. Lang, Laura Mvula, Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Billy Bragg, and Randy Newman, among many others.

MW : ...and your favourite films....

BQ : Ohhhhh-so-many faves but a few, in no particular order :

Portrait Of A Lady On Fire (2019)

Parasite (2019)

Secrets & Lies (1996)

Vera Drake (2004)

Pain And Glory (2019)

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind (2004)

BlacKkKlansman (2018)

A Fantastic Woman (2017)

Babette’s Feast (1987)

Coco (2017)

To Kill A Mockingbird (1962)

Nights of Cabiria (1957)

The 400 Blows (1959)

12 Years A Slave (2013)

Jean de Florette (1986)

Trees Lounge (1996)

My Left Foot (1989)

In America (2002) (I know I’m biased but still…such a beautiful film)!

Annie Hall (1977)

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985)

My Brilliant Career (1979)

And I also love documentaries and a ton of old movies from the 1930’s and 1940’s, such as The Lady Eve (1941).

MW : ...plus your favourite books....

BQ : I’m currently reading this years New York Times Bestseller American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins (it’s excellent!).

Some of my all-time faves are :

Of Human Bondage ~ W. Somerset Maugham (1915)

A Confederacy Of Dunces ~ John Kennedy Toole (1980)

Angela’s Ashes ~ Frank McCourt (1996)

The Grapes Of Wrath ~ John Steinbeck (1939)

Lady Chatterley's Lover ~ D.H Lawrence (1960)

Olive Kitteridge ~ Elizabeth Strout (2008)

Americanah ~ Chimanda Ngozi Adichie (2013)

The Feast of Love ~ Charles Baxter (2000)

Everything Here Is Beautiful ~ Mira T. Lee (2008)

An American Tragedy ~ Theodore Dreiser (1925)

Sister Carrie ~ Theodore Dreiser (1900)

Act One ~ Moss Hart (1959)

Born A Crime ~ Trevor Noah (2016)

Wild : From Lost To Found On The Pacific Crest Trail ~ Cheryl Strayed (2012)

MW : You enjoy gardening. How is yours designed and tended to?

BQ : I don’t have my very own garden. I live in NYC and dream of having a country house with a garden of my own one day!

This is the reason I started a side business of urban gardening. My dad was an extraordinary gardener and after he died, I started tending to my mother’s flower gardens. Then I found myself volunteering at a neighborhood garden and that led to me working in other people’s gardens. Primarily small back gardens and some rooftop or balcony gardens.

I specialize in flowers, shrubs and trees and love planting lots of perennials (flowers and plants) with annuals so there’s lots of varying blossoms of different heights and textures, throughout spring, summer and fall.

When possible, if space allows, I also love incorporating foot paths, rock walls, or other elements in gardens – art/birdbaths/benches/statues that might be a sweet focal point but primarily I love the combinations of plants, trees, shrubs and flowers to be the focal points.

MW : Recommend five flowers...that every good garden should have!

BQ : Daffodils - one of the first signs of spring! Muscari (aka grape hyacinths) – the color (blue) is gorgeous, as is the scent. Climbing roses – the beauty and romantic history of roses. Anemone Robustissima (late blooming perennial flower). Lady Ferns (okay not a flower, but I’m a fern freak and I love ferns of all kinds!, but Lady ferns in particular are stunning when they sit beside most flowers or surround trees).

MW : How opinionated are you on current events? Would you like to be more, or less opinionated?

BQ : I’m extremely opinionated on current events but find it difficult to find ways to communicate my thoughts without screaming angrily from the rooftops and then of course not being heard. There are those that say we have an obligation to try to talk sense into people whose viewpoints are much more extreme than one’s own (either extreme conservative or extreme liberal).

I’m very liberal but am more pragmatic when it comes to progress, not perfection, so I’m very happy to enthusiastically vote for someone like Joe Biden or in 2016, Hillary Clinton, but I honestly don’t know how to reach people whose minds are already made up – people who either continue to justify their support for the current racist/narcissist/sexist/pathological liar-in-chief, or that justify their “protest” vote by falsely equivocating both candidates as “the same” or “the lesser of two evils”.

So yeah, I offend people at times because yes, I’m judgmental when it comes to politics and I most definitely believe in the power of protests, but believe just as strongly in the collective power of one’s vote and it drives me insane when others don’t show up and vote for local elections, and national ones.

I find I do hold back on Facebook, not because I’m afraid to voice my opinions but because it becomes too much of a time suck for me.

MW : What character traits frustrate you?

BQ : Impatience (in myself). Aggression (in myself and others).

MW : What’s the kindest thing another person has done for you?

BQ : I find this question so complex to answer. There are so many inexplicable moments in my life, where I’ve been blown away by many seemingly small gestures or kind words from strangers. And professionally, I’ve been truly blessed to work with some top-notch directors that gave me the gift of encouraging me to fully trust my artistic instincts.

When I was a child, my parents were not the type of people who conveyed their love in typically demonstrative ways, in ways that I honestly craved, so on the rare occasions when either one of them did utter something like “We’re proud of you”, or “I love you”, I was very moved by them going past their own comfort zones to express that kind of sentiment!

I’ve had many personal and professional challenges in my life and many of my siblings have been there for me over the years in ways I can’t really articulate without choking up. I also think having the courage to face one’s disagreements and past hurt, which comes with the territory of most friendships and relationships, is an act of kindness that I most value. Those I feel closest to have stuck it through with me by navigating through some painful, complex and messy misunderstandings. I’ll never forget those acts of kindness and generosity.

MW : What have you lost, growing older... and gained?

BQ : My mom died in January, and as I mentioned, my dad died many years ago. Sometimes I feel the depths of that loss – the fact that I don’t have my parents to share the ups and downs of the events of the rest of my life. Of course, I do have them close to my heart and their spirits live on….but damn I miss them! I’ve definitely gained a profound appreciation for them and their influence on me in countless ways.

On a professional level, as an older actress, unfortunately it’s easy to become invisible but I’m not ready to disappear and am joining the fight against ageism! I’m drawn to stories and filmmakers that include women and men of all ages, genders and ethnicities.

Perhaps if enough roles are not forthcoming in the next number of years, I’ll venture into writing and directing at some point.

MW : Where can we find out more / keep in touch?

BQ : Thanks so much, here’s a few links…!

https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0703489/

https://twitter.com/quigdette

https://www.instagram.com/quigdette/

https://www.facebook.com/bernadette.quigley.3

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernadette_Quigley

https://bernadettequigleymedia.wordpress.com/

https://bernadettetheconstantgardener.wordpress.com/bio/

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