Looking for Mr. Goodfrog

by Laurie Graff

  I would get home from work in New York just as Trey left to go in L.A. The three-hour time difference gave me more time to spend talking with Fred. The night of my show he had made quite the impression on that sitcom creator. Good enough to get a recurring role as Dave, Occasional Husband #3 of the three-man husbandry stable. I’d watch and wave at the TV. So proud I was of my own Fred Grennon. He had been on twice so far, and next season both he and the show would be back for more. And with a little money to burn, he was très excited about the big surprise he had planned for Trey for tomorrow.

  An expectant Jane would be spending the night at home, while Brooke expected that the romantic night might father her familial expectations! Anne was ordering in for Carl, and Millie was eating out with Cookie and Sy...and Marv! They weren’t dating, she kept insisting, but it seemed Marv had spent all last year giving Millie more than a few helpful tips at bowling, patiently showing her what to do so she could score. Or he could...if you asked me. But another Valentine’s Day was upon us, and no one had.

  Totally immersed in rehearsing the show I had emerged from this last holiday season unscathed. But here we were just six weeks later and the Hallmark hoopla was back, with romantic expectations to beat the band. Because of the show, instead of having my weary feelings remain private I got to go public. Opening today’s Post to the section called “Pulse,” mine raced, as I gulped my coffee and read:

  Ditch the Date! Celebrate Valentine’s Day in a Frog Pond...With Frogaphobia’s Karrie Kline

  BY YVONNE CAREY

  “By comparison the whole holiday season’s a piece of cake,” Kline said, chuckling. “At least then you can cling to your friends and family and hide behind them. But Valentine’s Day—that’s just a direct, ‘Hey! You have no one! And there’s no place to hide!”’

  Fifteen years of bad dates could put a damper on anyone’s outlook, except maybe New York City actress Karrie Kline. Kline put the litany of losers, Casanovas, weirdos and plain old bad choices to work for her in her new off-Broadway show, Frogaphobia.

  Share your Valentine’s Day drama with Kline, who will perform an excerpt from her show and share her thoughts on dating dilemmas.

  Tonight: Tuesday, February 14, CLUB ERRATICA

  Door opens 10 p.m., $15, 42 West Sixty-ninth St., Cash Bar, Music, Snacks

  The photo wasn’t half-bad, I thought, rolling my eyes suddenly having something in common with those actresses you see on talk shows talking about how though they had everything they couldn’t get a date. And while I was a far cry from telling it to Letterman, I had a glimpse into the feelings behind it.

  I went through my closet searching for the right outfit for this singles event I’d be doing after tonight’s show. If I wouldn’t be making love, I’d at least be making people laugh. And I planned on doing it with panache! I passed over a pair of black pants, too dull, a cashmere cowl neck, too covered up, and a bland tweed skirt. Outside it was bitter cold, but I wanted to wear something that said hot.

  I went through the rack, using my hands to flip through the hangers before backtracking to an unfamiliar one. Unzipping the white plastic cover revealed a dress I not only didn’t remember, but didn’t even remember I had. It had been sitting in the closet forever. I’d never even worn it. How long ago did I buy it? Not last summer...the one before? Yes. The day I went with Fred to the Tonys. The night he first told me about Little Lulu. It was amazing to note how something seemingly insignificant could become life changing.

  I looked at the dress. I still liked it. The sexy, strapless, burgundy and brown winter plaid was still perfect for some holiday party. It was destined to be worn to tonight’s Valentine singles soiree. If you buy it he will come, I remembered thinking when I did. Well, he didn’t. And I wanted to wear it now. For me. Tonight I would.

  I had second thoughts after the show, when I was backstage changing. Layering two sweaters over the strapless dress I hoped I’d be warm. The wind had chilled down to a single digit that was practically enervating. Wearing my new green coat, I tied a big pink pashmina across my shoulders covering half my face and most of my eyesight.

  I left the dressing room and walked through the lobby to go out the front door. Through my peripheral vision I saw a man holding his Playbill while leaning against the bar. He was completely engrossed, reading a review that was framed and hanging on the wall beside him. A quick sideways glance was enough to see that he was around my age and quite handsome. It looked like he was waiting for someone. I wondered if it was me, but I went by unnoticed. Not to mention I was covered to the point of practically being unrecognizable! Anyway, it was doubtful this handsome guy was here alone on Valentine’s Day. Please! He was probably waiting for his date that was probably in the bathroom. Just as well, I thought, bundled to the point I could barely open the door as I ventured out and up to the event.

  So wrapped up, in my thoughts and my clothing, I almost missed him. But I didn’t. I recognized the shape before I recognized the face, but there he was, a few feet off to the right of the theater doors, right in front of me, holding a pen and—

  “Can I have your autograph?” he asked. The fur collar of his black wool coat turned up at the neck, his hat pulled down to his forehead. But I knew those eyes, the quality of his voice and the unmistakable current that added heat through the cold air.

  “Hi!” I said, smiling, feeling flushed, as I pulled down the pashmina and tried to sneak a peak to check if he was there with a woman. I didn’t want to act too familiar if, perchance, he had brought a date.

  “You were great!”

  Pause.

  I could not believe it. I stood as my mind clicked ahead, watching frame after frame of this ending to our movie.

  “Thanks!” I said.

  Pause.

  It was as if we were sitting on a stick of dynamite. The conversation was tucked inside ready to go off, but when? Who was going to light the match? It had been a while since I’d seen him. I didn’t think I would again. I had stopped thinking about him. But wasn’t that how it worked? When you let something go it came back? Was he on his way?

  “So. I read about your show since the move. I wanted to congratulate you, Karrie, and well...I wanted... Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. It’s great to see you. I have time,” I said, though I didn’t. The event began at ten. It was ten of. But I wouldn’t be on until at least ten-thirty. Plus they knew I was coming from a show.

  Okay. Take a breath, Ms. Kline. Chill. Well, maybe not. It was already so cold.

  “I really thought a lot about what you had said that day in my loft,” said the Fox, leaning in a little closer, doing the leaning in close thing he always did that made me feel like I was the only one in the world he wanted to talk to. “And I may look a little different to you because my head’s a little smaller.”

  I looked at his head. “It’s hard to tell the size. Maybe when you take off the hat,” I said, pointing to the wooly black cap.

  “Well, I’ve been getting my head shrunk the last six months. And it’s been working.”

  “Really?” I beamed. I was pleased. Since I last saw him, Doug Fox had been seeing a shrink! How about that? In fact, I didn’t even notice—

  “And I quit smoking,” he said.

  “Wow! This is incredible. So, what’s been going on? Tell me.”

  Someplace warm, like in a cab on the way to my event I thought, but I didn’t say it. Happy as I was to see him I hoped we got to the part where we changed locations soon.

  “I told you that you had opened my eyes. And you did. Because I started to get that I wasn’t getting into anything with anyone, and I started to find out why.”

  Doug looked at me with gratitude. He looked a lot less cocky, and a lot more real. Happier, more accessible. Real things. Good ones.

  “I’m kind of thrilled to hear this,” I said. “And...well, what did you find out?” I asked, already knowing he found he’d let a great one go when he let me off his line and now he wa
s back, hoping to reel me in.

  “Well, a lot of it is very personal, of course. My own...how shall we say...stuff!”

  “We all have it.” We both looked down and laughed as if our stuff was right there, on the ground, just waiting for us to pick up and throw away.

  “But I also learned that I had to get in there and take a chance. If I met someone I liked. If I met a woman I thought was pretty and bright. Funny, sexy...I had to find out. And that’s why I’m here,” he said, extending his arm out to the left in a big gesture that showed me just where he was.

  “How wonderful,” I said.

  I didn’t know what I felt first. I had stopped thinking about Doug because I never thought he could become anyone to me. But now, here he was! I made a decision. I would take the very next step and let it lead to the step after that and the step after that and—

  “I’m proud of you, Doug. I’m glad you came here. I really am, I—”

  “Well, I felt I had to thank you, in person,” he said, taking his left arm that was extended and wrapping it around a petite honey-blond shiksa dressed in an antiqued red velvet coat, who had suddenly walked out the front door of the theater and into Doug’s arm! “Meet Ashley,” he continued without missing a beat.

  “Hi, Karrie,” said Ashley, extending her left hand because her right wrapped around Doug and got tucked into his coat pocket. “Doug told me all about you. I feel I have a lot to thank you for. He said none of this would be going on, now, with us if it wasn’t for you.”

  They took a moment to look at each other. I think they wanted to rub noses and do an Eskimo kiss, but for fear of leaving me out, they held off.

  “Ashley. Hello. What a... Pleasure. To, uh, meet. You.” I forced myself to smile. I breathed out, dispelling some of the hot hair. “A genuine surprise!”

  “We met at Grand Central, just before Thanksgiving. Both waiting for a train. Ashley lives in Greenwich, and I had decided it would be fun to have a drink at the Campbell Apartments and she was at the bar, and well it’s been, how long is it now, Ash?”

  “Just three months,” said Ashley, having just seen my show she looked at me in girl-agreement knowing I understood exactly what that meant.

  “Coming here tonight with Ashley seemed like a perfect Valentine’s Day date.”

  “Yeah, Karrie, it really was great,” she chimed in.

  “So thanks. You changed my life,” said Doug. “Oh.” He stopped and turned back around. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Then they walked away.

  I stood in the cold feeling numb. I almost started to cry, not because I was so hurt as much as I was so over it. So over these things never working out! That thought did make me cry and the teardrop froze, but not before I knew it had done its damage to smear my makeup. I looked at my watch. Two minutes past ten. Did I show up at ERRATICA with two black eyes, or did I go inside and fix it before heading up?

  Vanity prevailed. I walked back, pushing on the lobby door almost falling forward when, from the inside, my stage manager pulled it open.

  “Thank God I don’t have to run out in this cold and go chasing you!” he said, dressed in nothing but a hooded sweatshirt.

  “Donny, what’s the matter? What’s up?”

  “I’m glad I caught you. A guy in the audience left you this and made me promise, promise I’d give it to you tonight,” he said, letting me inside the warm lobby as he tucked a note into my hand. “In fact, I thought he was right—” He gave a quick look behind him before turning back to me. “Whatever. Oh dear! I hope you made the other guy look worse!” he said, pointing at what I now knew for sure were two noticeably black eyes.

  “I’ll save it for tomorrow,” I said. “I know you want to get out of here. Just give me a minute to clean myself up.” I shoved the note into my coat pocket, glad the handsome guy was gone and there was no one around to see me.

  I wish I’d snuck past Doug and never seen him. What did I need that for? Did it make me feel good that I had reformed a frog to become someone else’s prince? And on Valentine’s Day, no less?

  I looked at myself in my makeup mirror. I was the same happy woman I was earlier when I put on the dress for tonight’s event. My ego had been roughed up. That was all. Nothing else had changed. I had to pull myself together and go.

  I exited the theater. The wind from the river was ripping up Forty-second Street while I searched for an available cab. There was nothing to be found. It was getting very late. So he just wasn’t that into me after all. Who cares, I thought, getting very anxious as I could not find a cab. Half an hour ago I never expected to ever see the guy again, and I was fine. I was better than fine. I was on time!

  I tried hailing one down but didn’t realize it was taken until I had chased it across Ninth Avenue. If I didn’t get lucky on this block I’d have to duck into the subway. It made no difference to me if Doug Fox was alone or with Miss Connecticut, I thought when I spotted another cab with its light on. He had his life and it had nothing to do with mine. He could just go frog himself.

  “Ta-xi!” I screamed, in my best Queens school-yard yelp. I chased the cab, running up the street like I was running a maze, jumping over and around the slush and the ice left from the prior week’s snowstorm. The cab stopped at a red light as it approached Eighth Avenue. Just as I went to open the back door, the driver turned the light off. I looked in the window and saw he had a fare.

  “Damn it!” I shouted. I was falling apart at the seams.

  “Get in!”

  ???

  I wanted to be off the cold street and in the cab so badly that now I was hearing things?

  “Get in.” The man in the cab leaned over and opened the door for me. “You caught up to me,” he said.

  I was overheated from being overdressed, disappointed, out of breath, emotionally bruised and to top it all off now I was hallucinating. Oh yes, I was going to be a model of inspiration at tonight’s singles event. Provided I ever got there.

  “You got my note,” the handsome face said as his beautiful brown eyes looked up at my distraught blue ones. “I didn’t see you leave, and then I saw you talking to a couple outside. So I went to the bathroom and when I came out you were gone. But you read my note, right?”

  I recognized the face as the handsome man standing by the bar when I first left the theater over half an hour ago. He had been waiting, but not for a date. That date in the bathroom was Doug’s! But this guy left a note. Well...whatever he was couldn’t be worse than what had just gone on. I got in the cab.

  “Forty-two West Sixty-ninth,” I told the driver. “I’m late for an event I’m doing so would it be okay to drop me first?” I asked the guy as an afterthought.

  “Okay.” He smiled at me. Almost like a wink. Like we had some inside joke.

  Relieved to finally be on my way, I took a breath and composed myself before asking the guy what he... Boy, he was cute. He was still smiling. Or grinning. Yeah, he had a nice big grin. He was so well dressed, too, wearing a buttery thigh-length brown leather jacket, a checked cashmere scarf and plush dark green corduroy pants.

  “Okay now. You were that guy standing at the bar, right?”

  He nodded.

  “And you wrote me this note?” I dug my hand into my coat pocket and pulled it out.

  He nodded again. Then he grinned. Ooooo! I liked it. His lips turned up into an inviting smile. His eyes peered into me. Even in the dark taxi his olive skin glowed...and his mouth. It had been a long time since I’d seen a mouth like that. His lips. Soft lips, lush. The top lip curled slightly over the bottom. It affected me in ways I...

  We were driving up Eighth Avenue when I unfolded the note to read. I could feel him breathing next to me. My heart was racing; my eyes darted about the page so I could barely make out the words. I tried to focus but could only scan the note, heading straight to the signature down at the bottom where he had signed his name.

  Gary Waks

  Oh. My.

  God!

  “Hi,” the
now sort of familiar voice said next to me. “You didn’t know it was me.”

  I looked up at him, taking in the features that had improved with age like a quality wine. He had acquired a casual confidence that was electric and sexy. If I ever had a “type” this was it.

  “I didn’t know it was you. How in the world did you get here?”

  The cab swirled left around Columbus Circle. I looked over at Gary, as the stark glass and lights of the Time Warner Center twinkled through the window behind him. He took off his right glove to reach inside his jacket pocket and produce the clipping.

  “I picked up the Post. This morning. Doing a project—”

  “Engineer?” I asked, remembering M.I.T.

  He nodded.

  “I like to check up on the Knicks.”

  I remembered he was a great basketball player.

  “And then I saw this.” He showed me the article from today’s paper. “You went from Karen Klein to Karrie Kline?” he asked.

  “Stage name.”

  “It was the picture that made me put it together,” said Gary. “You really haven’t changed in thirty years.”

  “Well, that’s nice to hear. But some things have changed,” I said, looking down at his left hand to see if his status had, but it was covered with a leather glove.

  “Oh yeah?” He was doing the smile/wink/grin thing again. “Let’s see. You wanted to be an actress.”

  “I wanted to be an actress.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted to write.”

  “I didn’t know I wanted to write!”

  “You never married.”

  I shook my head.

  “You never married?” I asked, hopeful he hadn’t.

  “We’ll talk.”

  Would we? We had just driven past Lincoln Center and were upon my destination.

  “I have lost my virginity.”