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Sometime in the middle of all the divorce mediation mess , with my fits of rage, and Paul’s bouts of fear shredding whatever solid foundations our mediator was trying to help us build for the future, came my birthday. Paul knew how much birthday celebrations meant to me. So, he planned one. Between
a matineé and evening performance of Les Misérables on a Saturday in April, close enough to my real birth day to have meaning. It would be just us.

I agreed to meet him two blocks from the Imperial Theatre, at Souen, our favorite macrobiotic vegetarian restaurant, located on the corner of 10th Avenue and 46thStreet. Souen was always crowded on matineé days with health-conscious actors, who rushed over after their afternoon performances to get a table.

Paul knew that, so to make this special little celebration work, he knew he had to get there early enough to secure a table. One of the things that bothered me most about Paul was that he was always late for everything, so I wasn’t hopeful. I figured I’d have to crush through the waiting line and beg of Armina, the hostess, that it was mybirthday, could she please, pleeeze get us a table by the windows,etc? I wasn’t looking forward to that little dance, but I’d promised to meet him, so I got out of make-up asfast as I could (which for Madame Thénardier is never easy, she wears so much stage dirt), girded my loins and raced for the restaurant. As expected, there as already a line outside waiting to get in. I was hot, sweaty from rushing, grimy with left-over stage make-up (no matter how hard I tried, it took both a shower and a bath every night to get it alloff), and out of breath. I forced a smile, asked my pals in line to let me through (hungry actors can be violent, but they were nice this time), and went straight to a harried-looking Armina.

She smiled at me!

“Happy Birthday, Evaleen,” she said in her warm Indian accent. “Just go straight back. The last dining room on your right.” And she returned to the mob.

Whew! I was glad and relieved. Paul had thought ahead. And it was a sign that he cared enough to think about making it easy for me.

Souen was large for a NYC restaurant, composed of 5 or 6 spacious rooms, arranged in confusing ways, to make them all fit next to each other. There was an entrance
on 46th Street as well as the main one on 10th Avenue, so I was never sure exactly how to get to any one specific room except by wandering until I found it. I usually ordered my
beween-show Souen meal to be delivered at our stage door, where I’d pick it up as I rushed off from curtain-call . I’d then take it up to the 4th floor to enjoy. after taking off my costume.

So, out of practice, it took me a minute or two to find the “last dining room on the right” and in order to, I had to come around the corner of a short corridor into the room. As I did, I
saw Paul, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, with the large menu in his hands, talking to someone across the table. Who had he invited to join us?
I rounded the corner, entering the room so I could finally see the entire table, and there was a 4 foot tall , bright green stuffed dinosaur sitting oppositePaul. This prehistoric creature had another pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his soft, furry white snout, and another menu stuck between his green paws.

Armina must have had a waiter tell Paul I was on my way back to the room, so I could catch him and DIno in discussion.

On seeing me, Paul stood up – people at surrounding tables were laughing now, enjoying the silliness – and formally bowed. Then he walked behind the green monster, took
the menu out of the pudgy paws and said “Evalyn, I’d like you meet Dino, your Birthday DInosaur. Dino, this is Evalyn, the birthday girl.” He held one of DIno’s paws out for me to shake,
which I obligingly did. Several people around us clapped, and I heard a few “Happy Birthday’s” from those seated . Paul went to the center chair and pulled it out for me.

I sat. And the three of us – Paul, me and Dino – vegetarians all – began a cordial chat. .It was quite intimate, so I shan’t share.

A fantasy time , in the midst of pain and sadness, it was a reminder that in spite of all we were subjecting each other to during this difficult time, we were still

able to laugh together, Paul and I. And, for a moment, we were still able to see how silly it all really was. All of it.

I kept Dino on my bed – all four feet of him, tall, and smiling his goofy dinosaur smile, for the next decade and a half.

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