“I know mom. We studied the Middle Ages in school. What’s that got to do with you?”
“It wasn’t just in the middle ages. Fifty years ago it was like that in America. Back in your grandma’s day. But I grew up in the seventies. Peace, love all that. I never knew a time when girls couldn’t get a job or even wear pants to school.”
“What are you talking about? Wear pants to school? Did they go naked?” I laughed at my witty tween self.
“How quickly things are forgotten. Your grandma had to wear dresses to school. They had all kinds of complicated rules about it having to be at a certain temperature before they could wear pants. And get this,” she laughed, “No one wore jeans!”
“Prehistoric! But mom what has that got to do with you and a job? You weren’t born in grandma’s day. You could do any job you wanted.”
“That was the problem. The pendulum had swung so far the other way that any educated girl felt she had to have a career. Stay home moms were seen as lazy parasites.”
“Harsh.”
“Okay, maybe not that bad. But almost. I had a degree. I was a motivated individual. I should go out into the workforce everyday and leave my babies in a daycare. That worked great for a lot of my friends, but not for me. I always felt torn in two. When I was at work I worried about my babies. When I was at home I worried about work. Ever since Jason was born I’ve been trying to find the happy medium. The perfect job that also lets me be the perfect mother. Needless to say I haven’t found it yet. In the process I think I’ve driven your poor father crazy.”
“Didn’t have far to drive.” We both gave a conspiratorial laugh. “Don’t worry, Mom. Soon we’ll all be grown. Then you can have a great career with no kids at home to worry about.”
The look on my mother’s face that January second, as my twin baby sisters set out for their first day of their last semester of high school, reminded me that my mom was about to retire from her favorite career, motherhood.
“Let’s go do Starbucks,” she said as she watched the Double J’s pull away from the house. “I need some strong caffeine.”
-25-
It Was A Dark & Stormy Night
It was sleety and windy moving back into the dorm the middle of January. Ice was beginning to cover all the roads—and every other surface for that matter. I was glad I had made it back to OKMU before it had become too treacherous. Hopefully it wouldn’t ice so badly that it knocked out the electricity. That was common in Oklahoma ice storms, and life without the big E could quickly become the big B—boring.
I made it to the main door of my dorm just as it was opening. Good thing as I had my arms full of clean clothes. Bad thing, it was being held by Mr. Dansby himself and I wasn’t the only one he was holding it for. Right behind me was old Thing One—Taylor.
“Oo, thanks Al. I didn’t think your little bitty car was going to make it through this sleet. That sure was an adventure,” she all but purred. I was confused, because I thought her kind barked.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I slid through the door.
“Lottie? Is that you behind those clothes?” he asked. “Did you have trouble driving? I’m glad you made it okay. I. . .”
Standing there in the freezing cold I felt warmer than I had in weeks. Our eyes locked and once again I felt I could believe in instant love.
Instantly that beautiful moment was shattered as Taylor slithered between us. “Who is your friend, Al? I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Taylor.”
“Lottie,” was all that came out of my mouth.
“Oh my lord, aren’t you the girl whose undies went flying in the wind the first day of school? Al, don’t you remember that? We were walking across campus and saw some lady frantically chasing them all over the place. We laughed so hard.” Taylor was laughing not at the story, but at me. Al looked like he would prefer to be back out in the sleety storm permanently over being a hostage between the two of us in Asbury Hall.
That just couldn’t be happening. I was embarrassed enough for myself, but strangely more empathetic for how Al felt as he stood there awkwardly holding the door open as if looking for an escape. He’d already made it clear with that infamously passionate kiss under the mistletoe, which was forever seared in my mind, that he preferred Taylor over me. I’d just use my magic and help out. No use both of us being miserable. I could be miserable enough for two on my own. My hand reached in my pocket. My trusty eraser did its stuff.
It was sleety and windy. I would just stay in my car a few minutes longer. No need to hurry. There they were. Miata pulled up. Taylor and Al up the steps. Door open. Door closed. Wait five minutes. Al back out the door. Back in the Miata. Little red Miata pulled away. Time to get out of the car and start another semester at OKMU.
-26-
That’s The Night The Lights Went Out In Oklahoma
Cozy. That was one way of describing it. A typical Oklahoma ice storm. No electricity, no idea how long it would be off. The only heat to be found in our four-story building came from the one lone fireplace in the parlor, a plethora of lit candles (in a building where fire code stated that candles were illegal) and the hot air from some two hundred girls gossiping. Without electricity what else could they do?
Classes didn’t start for another day still, so a party atmosphere was prevalent in Asbury Hall. Stina had organized an impromptu spades tournament next to the fire. The volleyball team was staying warm with an indoor volleyball match in the basement hallway. Through the dim shadows I saw Rachel leading a group therapy session in one corner of the parlor. Olivia was speed texting in the other. I saw her slip something out of her purse, take a sip and put it back. I guessed that was one way of keeping warm. I hoped she didn’t go overboard, but sadly knew she would.
After witnessing the Taylor/Al/tiny Miata incident a few hours earlier I wasn’t in the sociable mood. Maybe I needed to move over into Rachel’s corner and get some mental help. No, there was just too much togetherness for my rotten mood. I needed some fresh air.
After bundling up like Nanook of the North, I headed out for a slip-slidey walk to who knows where. Just anywhere to be alone. Although the sleet had stopped, after about three minutes of the bone chilling Oklahoma wind I’d had enough fresh air, but I didn’t feel like going back to the dorm. Across the street I could see the music rehearsal building. One thing my grandma had always preached was that music was the best stress reliever known to women. Well, next to chocolate. And as I didn’t have any chocolate handy, there was a rehearsal hall available. Off I went to the music building. If I were lucky I could use one of the practice pianos. I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone hearing my inadequate skills, as no one with any common sense would be there on a night like that.
The door was unlocked, but no lights were on. Duh, the electricity was off there too. The check-in desk was empty and the whole building seemed deserted. I’m sure if my life had been a movie there would have been scary music playing and the people in the audience would be saying, “Don’t go in there alone Lottie.” But it wasn’t and I went. Thankfully, no man with a mask and chainsaw jumped out to get me.
The first floor of the building was made up of about ten practice rooms. Each room was just big enough to hold an upright piano and a bench. Nothing spacious. Supposedly they were sound proofed, but in actuality it only muffled the sound.
I didn’t go in the first room. Or the second. Like Goldilocks, I went all the way to the back looking for the best fit. The room most secluded from the world. It would have been pitch dark if not for the glow of the full moon reflecting off of the ice covered landscape shining through the window. I was in the mood to play my saddest songs. I was no virtuoso. Although I had taken piano for six years and could play adequately, I never felt comfortable playing for others. I loved Broadway show tunes, so I started to play “Maybe” from Annie. It’s sad yearning for what wasn’t was exactly how my heart felt. Soon I was singing along and feeling the release of all the pent-up frustrations I had felt since
the not-coffee-date.
I finished the last word of the song, “Maybe,” when there was a slow clapping applause at the doorway. I screamed bloody murder and hoped I hadn’t wet myself. I had been so absorbed in the music I hadn’t heard anyone enter.
“I’m so sorry,” came the voice of a dream, not a nightmare. “I came to get in some practice and heard you playing. I didn’t mean to scare you. I should have realized I would scare you. Are you okay?”
“You’re just lucky I didn’t have a can of mace on me,” I laughed, trying to regain my composure.
“You play quite well,” said Al Dansby. “Are you a music major?”
That got a snort laugh from me. Oh snap. I snorted. “No, English. That is I’m an English major. I just play the piano for therapy.” I was doing it again. Talking nonsense.
“It’s the best therapy I’ve ever found,” he agreed. “Maybe that’s why I’m here tonight.”
Awkward silence. I wanted him to stay and talk. But my brain had locked up. No mental file would open. “Please don’t leave.” Was that out loud? Had I really said that out loud? Of all the stupid pathetic things to say. Where was my eraser? I had to fix that blunder. But it was back in my room.
“Okay,” he said.
He said okay. Now think brain and don’t mess up again.
“Do you play duets?” he asked.
“Heart and Soul.”
“Scoot over a little and we can play some mean Heart and Soul and then, if you’re lucky the ever popular but technically demanding Chopsticks.”
I loved the fact that piano benches aren’t very big. He played the bass cleft, I the treble. It all seemed perfectly natural.
“I liked Annie,” he said.
Who was this Annie chick I wondered. I thought I only had to worry about Taylor. And what was he doing bringing her up? Was he trying to make sure I knew up front there was someone else in his life? I’d have to do something about both of them.
“You know the musical,” he laughed at my confused expression. “You were playing Maybe from it. Not my all time favorite. A little too girly. I suppose Phantom or Les Mis are. But Annie is a great play about never giving up hope.”
“What do you hope for?” I asked amazed how easily we were talking in the moonlight. Usually by this point in a conversation I had put my size seven in my mouth, but in the stillness and the moonlight everything seemed safe. Safe to let my guard down and be vulnerable.
“All Christmas break I’ve been hoping. . . ,” he stopped playing his part of the song. I followed suit.
“Me too.”
“Strange, I’ve really only talked to you that time in the library and too briefly at the dance. I must apologize from making such a spectacle of myself. Sometimes I can be just a little bit theatrical.” Al paused for a breath and a depreciating laugh. I was about to start over explaining my date from hell when he began speaking again. “But, I feel like I’ve been almost running into you all year. Or maybe after you. Even though I haven’t. It’s like I instantly knew you,” he said giving furtive glances my way as he spoke.
I wondered. Did minute traces of events remain even after I redid them?
Slowly he took over the whole keyboard and began to gently play a song. I recognized the tune, but couldn’t place it until he gently began to sing about enchanted evenings and finding his true love.
This so couldn’t be real. There I sat in a moonlit room, while the guy of my dreams serenaded me with the most romantic song from South Pacific. If I had had a room full of Harlequin Romance writers working for weeks they couldn’t have written anything this perfect. Then it happened. The ridiculously super efficient Public Service Company of Oklahoma went and got the electricity back on. Light flooded the entire building. The spell was broken.
“That was beautiful,” I whispered suddenly self-conscious in the bright lights.
“Thanks. That’s the play we’re doing this semester. I’m playing Lt. Cable. He doesn’t actually sing that song, but somehow it just...” he stopped talking and looked flustered.
“I’m so very sorry,” he said starting to talk again.
“Huh, for what?” I asked.
“For standing you up at the library. I was stuck in a meeting about the musical. Taylor said she would tell you I’d be late, but she said she didn’t find you. I guess my description wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t remember what you’d been wearing. I told her to look for the prettiest girl around.” Then I swear he blushed.
“The music rehearsal building is now closing,” came a disembodied voice. I was so engrossed in our conversation I jumped thinking it was the voice of God, but then realized it only came from the building’s P.A. system.
“Guess we have to go,” I said. Neither of us moved from our bench.
“Guess so.”
“Maybe another time?” I asked.
“Definitely,” He answered. “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”
I would like to say we had a leisurely stroll back across campus. But it was a freezing, windy night in January in Oklahoma. We both walked as fast as possible, trying not to slip on the ice, hunched against the elements. At that pace we reached the dorm much too fast.
It was too cold to loiter on the steps, so we stepped into the foyer.
“Charlotte Lambert, English major, commonly known as Lottie, thank you for an enjoyable evening. We should...” Al Dansby’s beautiful voice was cut off as the outside door burst open and Olivia staggered through.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Olivia declared and then she was. Right on top of the new boots the Double J’s had given me for Christmas.
***
“Lottie, I’m so sorry,” Olivia apologized for the tenth time. “I’ll buy you new boots. I’ll buy you two new pairs of boots. I guess I ate something bad.”
We all played along, but we knew it wasn’t what she had eaten but what she had drank that made her blow chunks on my new Frye boots.
A split second after the upchuck Al had made his exit. The look on his face declared that he wasn’t good with vomit.
“Forget the puke for a moment. Tell us, Lottie,” demanded Stina.
“Yeah, give us all the details. Where have you been for the past two hours and how did you end up with Al Dansby?” demanded Rachel.
“I thought he was gay,” added Olivia prone on Stina’s bed with a wet washcloth on her forehead.
I proceeded to give them the high points of my enchanted evening.
Stina kept interjecting, How romantic’s, throughout the narration. Rachel kept analyzing the situation. Olivia kept mumbling about there should be better rules defining gaydom. I just kept thinking how other than Olivia’s last meal on my boots there was nothing in that evening that I would ever want to erase.
-27-
Call Me?
My evening had been enchanted, but the next day wasn’t. Would he call? How could he call? I hadn’t given him my cell number. How would he find me? If only I had left a glass slipper, but sadly glass slippers were in short supply during an Oklahoma ice storm. And I really doubt he wanted an upchucked-on boot.
After hours of panic, common sense set it. He had walked me home. He knew where I lived.
The day wore on. Books to buy for my new classes. Forms to be signed by my advisor. Stina and I had to catch up on all that had happened in our lives over the past month apart—all the details that we hadn’t given each other in our daily text messages and Snapchats. It was a busy day, yet in the back of my mind, out of the corner of my eye, I kept looking for Al Dansby.
By evening I was a basket case again. I had sat in the cafeteria for an hour and a half at dinner picking at some disgusting thing they billed as an enchilada. He never came through. I finally gave up my vigil and headed for the dorm when the cleaning crew started moving tables to vacuum. Stina wanted to go to the movies. It was our last night without homework, but I wasn’t in the movie mood. I would never confess that I was afraid to leave the dorm. Afraid tha
t if I did he would come by and I’d miss him. I was roaming the room like some pathetic caged animal.
“Lottie, sit still. You’re driving me crazy,” said Kasha. She and two other K’s, Rachel, and Stina were primping for a girls’ night out to the movies. Seems ironic how much time they spent to look fantastic to go and sit in the dark, but hey, it’s a girl thing. They were off to see some vampire thing they’d all seen before, but once was never enough. “Just call the guy. It’s a new millennium. You can call a guy yourself.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You’re a liberated woman.”
“No, I can’t. I don’t have his number.”
“Oh. Well, don’t worry. He’ll call you.”
“Can’t.”
“Doesn’t have your number, huh?”
“It was a little too awkward to exchange technical info with Olivia’s stomach contents on my feet.
“Have fun at the movies. I’m going for a walk.” And that I did. I walked by the music rehearsal building three times hoping that we might just casually bump into each other. No Al Dansby there.
For once there was no wind blowing. It was a nice evening to be out. That’s the craziest thing about Oklahoma weather. It changes. The day before we had sleet, the next sun. My mom always said our weather was like a metaphor of life—things might be bad, but in a day or two it would melt away and be nice again. What she didn’t add was that after that day of sun it would be sleety again. I kept walking. As I rounded to the back door of the fine arts building I heard voices.
“Thanks Al. I had the most wonderful time,” said Taylor all gushy and sultry.
I turned the corner to see her arms around Al’s neck like a baby anaconda. Al Dansby’s neck. His eyes met mine for an instant. I felt like an enormous fool. He must have thought I was some pathetic stalker seeking him out just because we had had a chance conversation the night before. His eyes looked anything but pleased to see me. Obviously there was something going on between him and snake woman. But she didn’t have a magic eraser and I did. Redo time.
Do-Overs Page 10
