CAROLINECHASE

When the doctor announced “It’s a girl!” a sense of dread rose up in Harold Chase. Up until that point in his life, all fifty years of it, he had known the comfort of raising sons. (Two, but who was counting.) Gangly boys: Daniel, who had grown attached to the idea of fame; Alex, whom he was trying to shield. How was he supposed to raise a girl? Fortunately for Hal, he had the support and partnership of his wife, Carmina. Carmina did most of the heavy work when it came to raising the children. It was also Carmina that chose their names and it would come to pass on the eighth day of December in 1984, Carolina Rosa Santiago Chase was introduced to the world.

It was an interesting world for Caroline, as she chose to go by at the age of four, to grow up in. A world full of scripts, revolving doors, people constantly moving in and out of the Chase residence as if they belonged there. A world full of late night phone calls, revolving doors, parents rushing in and out as if hellhounds were at their heels. It would take ten years, eight of which she shared with her brother and sister, Lilliana (The interloper who came into the world two years after Caroline had made her debut.), for Caroline to fully understand the nature of their lives and she didn’t know if she liked it. Alex, at the ripe old age of twenty, had informed her that he wanted to be a part of the family business. The family business being the business of show.

Caroline wasn’t interested in any of the business, show or otherwise. At the age of ten, she had decided that she was going to be a doctor like her mother. A pediatric oncologist to be exact. Her father had all but insured she received the best education (And protection.) that his money could buy, sending her to prestigious schools and immersing her in academic culture, medical books popping up like clockwork every weekend at her seat at the dinner table. Six years would pass until she was persuaded to travel a different direction. Suddenly, Caroline cared about the business: show and all.

Schoolmates at Marlborough had suggested over the years that she was clever. More than capable to get herself out of a scrape using the power of persuasion via her words, often managing to get a belly laugh or four out of their teachers. Could she do it? Could she actually let go of a ten year old’s dream for something that was intangible, that people flocked to this city for, eyes full of hope and hearts bleeding through their short sleeves? Caroline scoffed at the idea, doubt blooming in her at the mere thought of allowing herself to be that free, to let go of what was in her head and have it be analyzed under a microscope. That was her grandfather’s world, her father’s, Alex’s… it wasn’t hers, but in some strange way, she wanted it.

The more she wanted it, the less school became a priority. Her parents had always been supportive in every endeavor she and her siblings undertook with the understanding that they kept up with their academics. Caroline didn’t see any point in continuing her education past high school, but to placate her parents (And, in turn, Alex who grew up to be successful and annoying.), she applied to colleges with the express plan of majoring in the least marketable and profitable field. And so with a heavy heart, she moved to the east coast in the fall of 2002 to become a member of the Class of 2006 at Wesleyan University. Her major? Romance studies with an minor in medieval studies.

Her first two years at Wesleyan were filled with missives from her parents and Alex, constant reminders to do well and to wear clean underwear. Care packages, in equal measure, appeared twice a year from Alex’s wife, constant reminders to hang in there and to go for it, papers filled with schedules to open mics in New York. Caroline had long resigned herself that if she was going to make acting or comedy or anything related to the industry her life’s mission that she wasn’t going to take any jobs from her family. She was going to prove herself to the naysayers, but mostly to herself. And when she stood in front of those crowds in dimly lit rooms on weekends when she should have been studying conjugations, it took all her will not to curl into a fetal position and beg for mercy, mercy at the sound of silence.

Silence was not the answer when she had posed the question of dropping out of school. After a semester abroad, Caroline had finally found the courage to tell her parents that she didn’t want to attend Wesleyan any longer. It was Alex who had changed her mind with four simple words, “Don’t be a dipshit.” And in that instant Caroline’s bones chilled below zero, those words always reserved for their older half-brother Daniel who had tasted fame as a child, so addicted to it that he did everything in his power to keep his name relevant, dragging Alex’s rising star down to earth at every turn.

After graduation in the spring of 2006, it would be another year or so before Caroline made any moves. A year with a blink and miss appearance to her name, given out by token as she was participating in the NBC page program. A year spent at UCB, studying improv. A year when that improv led her to a dramatic role, Trudy Campbell on Mad Men. Caroline had always imagined herself on a sitcom, not a show on a network that didn’t even believe in original programming up until that point, but whining about work was for losers (Lilli’s words.) and she chewed up the words in those scripts as if they were breakfast. It was happenstance that led her to Community, determination for everything that came after. Or maybe it was luck. Alex had said once, “I got lucky with this shit.” And maybe, possibly maybe, she had too.