by Connie Lacy
“You excited about opening night?” he asked between bites.
“And a little nervous.”
“No need to be. You’ll do great. And I think audiences are gonna really like it, really respond. If we don’t need to make any tweaks, I’ll be heading for Charlotte after the first two shows.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I’ve been hired as Artistic Director at the Lyric Theatre there.”
Surprise must’ve been written all over my face.
“You knew I was leaving, right?” he said.
“Well…”
“My first play will be Funerals. Written by a local playwright. Very edgy. Then, my second play will be more conventional. We’re doing Steel Magnolias. And I want you to be in it. You’d be a good Annelle.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, when the run is over here, you can join me. I’m thinking we might make compatible roommates.”
I took another bite of my apple and stared up through the lush green leaves as they whispered in the breeze, probably talking about us.
“I found an apartment close to the theater,” he continued. “Two bedrooms. One for me, one for you. Though I was thinking a little hanky panky might be pleasant.”
And he smiled one of his mischievous smiles. I was still wearing my shades but they couldn’t hide the blush spreading over my cheeks.
“I like you a lot, Jenna. And I’m thinking maybe you like me too.”
I was trying not to choke as I swallowed that bite of apple. He quickly gathered our stuff and pulled me deeper into the woods until we could no longer see the path. And then he leaned against a tree, dropped the backpacks and drew me close. His hands were on my waist and then his lips were on mine. It was a tantalizing kiss and I found myself returning it. He kissed my neck and caressed me. My hands were roaming over his body too. I was amazed I was going along with him and knew that in another moment we’d both have our pants down right there in the woods. I forced myself to push away, re-clasping my bra and pulling my top down.
Sam just smiled at me – that same naughty smile as before.
“Yeah, you like me,” he said. “Come on.”
He took my hand and drew me further into the forest. We had sex on the ground in a small clearing. It was delicious and steamy. And then he reached up and pulled my sunglasses off. I couldn’t resist gazing into his bewitching blue eyes. I put my mouth on his and kissed him deeply, relieved and stunned I didn’t see his future.
10.
Don’t ask me why, but meeting with the genealogist made me feel like a spy. Her name was Ethel Robertson. She was a plump black woman with a short salt and pepper Afro and big hoop earrings. Fashionably dressed with a friendly, expressive face. We met in her home, a charming old house in the gentrified Candler Park neighborhood.
To break the ice I asked how she got into genealogy.
“Well, at first, I just wanted to find out about my own family history,” she explained. “But it was so fascinating, I just kept doing more and more research. You wouldn’t believe how much I found out about my ancestors. I won’t bore you with all the details, but suffice it to say I was shocked at how much European blood I’ve got.” She laughed heartily. “Then I started doing family histories for friends and they said, ‘Ethel, you oughta hang out your shingle.’ And I thought – why not? So I took some classes and got my certificate and now it’s my business. And I just love what I do.”
Which made me smile.
“Of course, at first I just did research for black families,” she went on. “But I’ve expanded way beyond that now. I do genealogies for all colors!” And she laughed again.
She wasn’t the studious researcher I’d expected. I liked her right away.
“So, do you know very much about your ancestors? Where they came from?” she asked.
“I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never taken much of an interest until now.”
“Well, don’t feel bad. Most people don’t get around to it until they’re in their fifties. So you’re ahead of the curve. Now, did you bring some names and dates with you?”
I fumbled in my bag for an index card I’d brought along.
“Think I’ll need more than that,” she said, chuckling.
So she typed my email address into her phone and said she’d send me a fill-in-the-blank list. I gave her a retainer check and left, with high hopes she’d find something I could use to help save my dad’s life.
*
Opening night was sold out and I had a serious case of nerves. Of course, I was excited too. Sam popped his head into the women’s dressing room and made some encouraging remarks but I can’t remember what he said. Melanie was talking a mile a minute to no one in particular. Rachel and Helen were very professional, chatting quietly as they sat for makeup.
As for me, I kept running my lines over and over, reminding myself to focus. I knew I couldn’t risk looking into Randall’s eyes, regardless of what Sam told me. I would look at his eyebrow, his cheek bone, his nostril, but not his eyes. If I had a vision-sight episode in front of a sold-out house, my career as an actress would be over.
Thankfully, the play opened with the older sisters on stage, arguing about who said what when they were younger. Rachel and Helen were totally in character, delivering their lines perfectly.
“You remember the night David proposed to me?” Helen asked, just the right little giggle in her voice as the sister named Lily.
“How could I forget?” Rachel replied, with the perfect amount of sarcasm for Rose.
And the lights faded on the two of them as Melanie and I strolled center stage. Thankfully, the adrenaline kicked in.
“Isn’t he the handsomest man you’ve ever seen?” Melanie gushed, closing her eyes dreamily.
“You’re not gonna marry that guy, are you?” I said, cocking my head sideways in disbelief.
“And what’s wrong with David?” she shot back. “He’s better looking than Pete.”
“I know it’s your philosophy of life, Lily, and I really hate to break it to you but looks are not everything!”
“I know you, Rose. You’re just jealous. You wish you had a man as sweet and good-looking as…”
“All I’m saying,” I interrupted, “is that we’ll see who’s happier ten years from now. At least Pete has a career ahead of him.”
“Well, you can marry for money if you want to. I’m marrying for love!”
And Melanie flounced off stage, leaving me rolling my eyes.
God, the electricity that flowed from that audience! They laughed at just the right times, and even some moments we didn’t expect, and they cried at the right times too. And when the show was over we got a standing ovation that gave me a buzz, the likes of which I’d never experienced. I felt like an uncorked bottle of expensive champagne.
I was in my underwear when Sam burst into the dressing room, hugging everyone and kissing them on the cheek, including me. He seemed oblivious to my state of undress. Melanie giggled as she slipped on her jeans and Rachel and Helen were exuberant as well.
When I emerged from backstage, I was still on cloud nine as I made my way to the auditorium. So I was taken by surprise when I found Alex waiting for me with a big bouquet, smiling warmly as I approached. I thought he would hand me the flowers, but instead, he set them on the edge of the stage and wrapped his arms around me. For a split second, I wanted to hug him too. He smelled so good and felt so good, with his chest against mine. I almost forgot our romance was over. Then he backed away and I came to my senses.
“You were wonderful, Jenna! Amazing. I couldn’t believe it was really you – you were so convincing. I thought you were about to slap your husband’s face in that one scene – you looked so angry.”
“I’m so glad you liked it.”
“Liked it? I loved it! I was awestruck. Great play. Super performances. Especially yours.”
He was looking directly at me and I wanted so much to look into his eyes. It was a bitter remi
nder of how much I was attracted to him and what a super guy he was. Even if he did end up making it with Tia.
“You’re so nice to come for opening night.”
“I couldn’t wait to see it. I’ve missed you, Jenna. A lot.”
“The flowers are lovely,” I said, picking them up. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my dad.” And I made a show of looking around the auditorium. “No, I guess you haven’t met him, have you?”
“Jenna,” he said, touching my arm.
I put my nose in the flowers to breathe in their scent, avoiding his gaze.
“Maybe after you talk with your Dad, we could go for a drink or maybe a smoothie?”
“Actually, the cast is going to a pub together.”
“How about lunch tomorrow?” he asked, trying to hide his disappointment.
“Lunch?”
“We could meet at Panera?”
“Believe it or not, I’ve got an appointment with a genealogist tomorrow for lunch. I’m hiring her to do a family history.” It wasn’t totally lying, was it? I mean I did meet with a genealogist. The meeting could just as well have been tomorrow.
He took a breath as though he was about to say something. But then he swallowed and it was gone.
“Dad and Meg are around here somewhere,” I said and headed up the stairs.
When we got to the lobby, they were waiting for me with another bouquet of flowers, though not as elaborate as the one Alex had given me. I introduced them and Alex quickly said his farewells.
“He’s even better looking in person than he is on the news,” Meg said as he hurried out the front door.
“Yeah,” said Dad. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Stop it,” I said.
They both laughed conspiratorially.
“Jenna, I just want you to know,” Dad said, “that you were awesome, fantastic, mesmerizing!”
And he hugged me close, which, I have to admit, felt really good.
“Everything your dad said, and then some,” Meg said. And she hugged me too.
“Thanks.”
“I just didn’t realize what an actress you are,” Dad went on. “I have to admit I thought this was just a hobby for you. But now I get it. Congratulations!”
It warmed my heart to hear him say it.
“The scene when you and your husband are having it out about the kids – wow! That was really powerful,” he said. “And the scene where you and your sister are arguing about who has the best marriage – man, you were so believable. I forgot for a moment that I was watching my daughter!”
I smiled and nodded and did my best not to look into his glowing face without being too obvious.
“And your relationship with your sister – it seemed so real,” Meg said. “It really was amazing.”
“You guys are too kind,” I said.
“Do you have a cast party tonight?” Meg asked.
“Well, we’re getting together at the Jazz Tavern.”
“All right! Go have fun! We’ll see you soon,” Dad said, positively bubbling with enthusiasm. He hugged me again and then they headed off, waving at me from the front door.
Of course, the truth was that no one was getting together. And now I was standing alone in the lobby holding two bouquets of flowers as some technicians drifted out, calling out “great show!” I imagined sitting in a booth with Alex, Dad and Meg, laughing and recalling the high moments of the play, answering their questions about various scenes and about the other actors. My eyes began to sting.
I set the flowers down on a table and texted Sam, asking if he wanted to meet me for a drink. But there was no reply. No beep. No chirp. Nothing. So I drove home to that big empty house, put the flowers in vases and fixed myself a large drink to celebrate. And then another.
11.
Sam never did respond. Not even the next day. Some people were like that. Me, for instance. And I knew when I didn’t reply, it was because I was avoiding someone – Alex, Tia, my dad, whoever – because I didn’t want to have a conversation with them. So I could only suppose Sam didn’t want to answer me the night before and that he saw no reason to do so now. Part of me was okay with that because if he was a bit of a cad, it helped me not to like him too much.
When I finally dragged myself off the couch and headed for the shower, I decided not to let it bother me. No big deal. If he was with friends the night before, or another woman, that was his business.
But when I reported to the theater that evening, he was the picture of affability, chatting in the women’s dressing room with Melanie, Rachel and Helen.
“All right, ladies. Just wanted to tell you in person I’m leaving town tomorrow morning, heading for my new job in Charlotte. The show was awesome last night. Didn’t see any problems. No glitches. Nothing to fix. So, as the Lone Ranger always says: my work here is done. Just wanted to tell you what a pleasure it’s been. And I hope we can work together again some time.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Rachel said. “Much success to you.” And she gave him a hug.
Helen and Melanie hugged him too and echoed Rachel’s warm wishes. I thought about hugging him, but held back.
“Yeah, thanks, Sam,” I said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
And he took off for the men’s dressing room.
The show was flawless that night, although I wasn’t sure I gave as vibrant a performance as I had the first night. Maybe the audience didn’t notice. We got another standing ovation.
When I made my way from the dressing room to the auditorium afterwards I was surprised to find Sam sitting in the front row.
“Took you long enough,” he said.
“I didn’t know you were waiting.”
“Where’s your car?”
He pulled my arm through his and we walked together to the parking lot beside the theater.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Your house.”
I almost spoke a couple of times but couldn’t think of the right thing to say. He was quiet as well. Even when we walked through the front door, he said nothing. He just wrapped his arms around me and kissed me for a long time. And then he took me by the hand, leading me upstairs to my mother’s tidy bedroom.
“I hope you want me because I really, really want you,” he said, pulling his shirt off over his head. I finally got to see the tattoo on his arm – stylized comedy and tragedy masks, a symbol of the theater. If any tattoo might appeal to me, it should’ve been that one. But there was something about it that turned me off.
Still, as he undressed me, I realized I did want him. And I forgot everything else as we thrashed about. It was so liberating not to feel the regret, the guilt or the pain that had consumed my life. I felt so high, so free. It was like a drug.
And when we were done, he sighed and ran his fingers through my hair.
“You’re coming to Charlotte,” he whispered gruffly. “As soon as the show’s over.”
I swallowed and looked into his animated blue eyes, waiting for a vision-sight experience but nothing happened. We snuggled together and I drifted off, listening to him breathe.
When I awoke, I was alone. I couldn’t figure out my feelings for Sam, nor his for me, but decided I didn’t care. It was kind of like trying to figure out why you like steak. It just tastes good, even if it is bad for your heart.
That was the day my dad called and said he and Meg had some news they wanted to share and could they stop by for a short visit. I had just enough time to shower, dress and throw the comforter over the bed before the doorbell rang.
They were like young lovebirds, holding hands and exchanging looks with each other. They brought some homemade banana bread with them, knowing I would have nothing to offer, I guess. I did have coffee so I made a pot and we sat at the kitchen table.
“So you’ve got some news,” I said.
“Yes,” Dad said eagerly. “I’m guessing you might think we’re crazy, though, because you think I’m so old. But…”
“G
ood grief, Tom,” Meg said, chuckling. “You’re not old.”
“Jenna thinks I’m old.”
“You’re not old, Dad.”
“Anyway,” he went on, “we wanted you to be the first to know that Meg and I are going to have a baby!”
He looked from me to Meg and back to me again.
She smiled and patted her little baby bump.
“We didn’t want to make an announcement until I was well into the second trimester,” she explained. “I’m what the doctors call an elderly gravida. Which means I’m a woman of a certain age who’s pregnant.”
“Forty-three isn’t that old these days,” Dad said.
“Well, I ain’t no spring chicken,” she said, laughing.
And then they stopped talking and looked at me, waiting for my response. I was careful, as usual, to appear to look at them without actually meeting their gaze.
“I have to admit it’s a big surprise,” I said, “but I’m very happy for you. It’s amazing after all these years, I’m gonna have a little brother.”
Which gave Meg a start.
“Or a little sister,” I added, trying to cover my mistake.
“Well, we had the testing done and it’s a boy,” she said. “So it is a little brother. How’d you know?”
I shrugged and laughed.
There was a lot of giggling and talk about a name, fixing up his room, buying a crib and a stroller and all that good stuff. I kept smiling even though I knew what the future held.
“Of course, this means you need to really take care of yourself, Dad.”
“I do take care of myself. I’m an epidemiologist, for heaven’s sake. I’m more than a little familiar with diseases.”
“But I know you stay busy and I just want to make sure you get regular physicals.”
“I do get regular physicals. Good grief!”
“Well, I know, but you need to be tested for cancer and heart disease and stuff like that too. You want to make sure you’re around to raise your little boy.”
“What a worry wart,” he said, looking at Meg and shaking his head. “I told you she thinks I’m old.” Then he gave me a defensive grin. “I’m in great shape. Hell, I ride my bike to and from work a couple times a week.”
