Sweet Sorrow

by Tricia Drammeh

“Why? You’ve performed before. Last year, you were Rizzo in that musical… What’s it called? Oh yeah. Grease. Anyway, if you can pull off playing a bad girl, you can sure as hell handle Juliet. At least you don’t have to sing and dance in Romeo and Juliet.”

  Grease? He saw me perform? And he remembers what part I played? I was barely aware of his existence prior to football equipment returns, but he was certainly aware of me. I can feel my face burning and I wonder if he notices how embarrassed and uncomfortable I am.

  “Why are you so nervous?” he asks. He leans closer to me.

  I glance around the room. No one is really looking at us, though I feel like a spectacle. When Mark and I had dated, girls looked at me all the time, probably wondering how I managed to snag someone so popular and good-looking. Rumor had it that Mark only dated me because he wanted to suck up to my dad. From what Mark had told me before we broke up, that was part of his reason for asking me out. Charity. I pushed the thought of Mark away before anxiety crippled me.

  “Rowan? Why are you nervous?” Eddie repeats.

  “I always have pre-play jitters. And this is my first leading role. Don’t worry. I’ll get over it. You’re not nervous?” I ask.

  “I think I’m still in shock that Mr. Fredericks gave me the part.”

  “Why? You’re really good.” He smiles at me and I’m disoriented.

  “After all the shit that went down, I didn’t think any of the teachers would want to give me a chance.”

  I can’t believe he mentions his legal troubles so casually. If I were in the same boat, I’d be devastated. “Everyone makes mistakes,” I say.

  “Not as big as mine,” he mutters, glancing away from me.

  Before I can say anything, the art instructor walks into the room and shuts the door. It’s difficult to concentrate on class because I’m ultra-aware of Eddie. I’m afraid to move, or breathe, as if the slightest motion on my part will draw his attention. I’m completely tuned into him. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him scrawling cartoonish figures in his notebook. His drawings are detailed and expressive. Eddie is a talented artist. Is he taking this class because he’s interested in art? Or is he just filling a blank spot on his schedule like I am?

  At last, the bell rings, signaling the end of the day for most students. For me and Eddie, a long afternoon awaits.

  “You coming?” he asks, standing up and peering down at me.

  “Yeah.” My body is trembling as I stand up beside Eddie. He’s so tall, so powerful in stature. I want to grip his bulging bicep, but it’s a totally inappropriate impulse. Still, I want to touch him in a way I never wanted to get my hands on Mark. I’m drawn to Eddie in an inexplicable, dangerous way.

  I’m a step behind Eddie as I follow him down the hallway. The corridors are congested, and we’re moving against the flow of traffic, giving us no time to talk to each other. We turn a corner and are separated by a group of students. Now I’m several steps behind him, struggling to catch up, but failing miserably.

  As we approach the doors to the auditorium, Morgan catches sight of me and grabs my arm, whisking me further away from Eddie. He opens the door to the auditorium, and glances behind him. His eyes dart around, searching, and when he catches my gaze, he shrugs questioningly.

  Morgan is rambling about some guy she met in her last period class, so she doesn’t notice the odd exchange between me and Eddie. Her eyes are alight with the glow of budding interest in her newest crush, and I don’t have time to tell her about my art class before it’s time for rehearsal to begin.

  Mr. Fredericks spends the next two hours laying down the rules for attendance and conduct. He hands out scripts, but we don’t run any lines. Not today. Fortunately, I know all about his routine. I’ve heard his lecture before. I zone out, thinking about Eddie. I desperately want to talk to him, to explain to him that I didn’t bail on him in favor of Morgan. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe he wasn’t walking me to the auditorium anyway—maybe he didn’t care that we were separated. But I swear he was looking for me, wondering why I wasn’t by his side. Or is that just wishful thinking?

  After Mr. Fredericks dismisses us with instructions to study our lines every day, Morgan drags me from the auditorium before I can make eye contact with Eddie.

  “He asked me if I have a boyfriend,” she gushes. “What do you think that means?”

  “That he wants to know if you have a boyfriend?” I tease.

  “Well, obviously. But why would he care? Unless he wants to ask me out.”

  “I’m sure he does, Mo.”

  “How was art appreciation?” she asks as we step into the main hallway leading toward the parking lot.

  I answer carefully, not knowing who might be around to hear my reply. “It was… unexpected. I think it might end up being one of my favorite classes.”

  I hear a chuckle behind me, and I turn around. Eddie is smiling at me with a knowing expression on his face.

  “Hi, Eddie,” Morgan says in a sing-song voice.

  “Hi. Glad you liked art appreciation, Rowan. I think it might end up being my favorite class too. See you tomorrow, ladies.”

  He’s still smiling as he walks away. Morgan grabs my arm and hisses, “Why didn’t you tell me you had class with Eddie? Oh my God. He is so into you. Did he talk to you? What did he say?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get in the car,” I say in a low voice. My face is still scalding from what Eddie just overheard.

  “Rowan, Rowan, Rowan. We have to talk,” she giggles, rushing me along.

  ***

  Eddie is already seated when I get to art class. He smiles when he sees me walking toward him. I wave to a couple of my friends seated in the front of the classroom, before moving down the aisle toward Eddie. I slip into the seat next to him.

  “Hi,” I murmur.

  “Ready for another fun-filled afternoon of appreciating art?” he asks.

  “I guess.”

  “You seemed much more enthusiastic about the class yesterday. You told your friend you thought this might be one of your favorite classes.”

  “It might,” I say, making eye contact with him for the first time since sitting down. “It’s only the second day, so we’ll see how it goes.”

  He laughs out loud. The two girls sitting at the table in front of us turn around. They stare at Eddie for a moment before facing each other, whispering. Eddie seems unfazed.

  “You gonna ditch me in the hall again?” he asks.

  “I didn’t ditch you,” I insist before realizing Eddie is just messing with me. “You have no idea how insistent Morgan can be.”

  “Oh, I think I do,” he says. “She seems very intense.”

  “Sometimes. She was just excited yesterday.”

  “I noticed. What about you? Were you excited?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Morgan was excited that she met a guy. Did you meet anyone interesting?”

  Oh, holy crap. How am I supposed to answer that? Eddie makes me uncomfortable. I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me, or if he’s joking.

  “I…um, well…”

  The bell rings, saving me from answering. For now.

  Eddie leans over. His warm breath is on my cheek. He smells like peppermint and aftershave. “That’s okay, Rowan. You can tell me later.”

  Oh. My. God. I think I’m in love. Or something like it.

  ***

  When we leave art, Eddie is right behind me as we wade into the sea of students in the hallway. His hand is resting on the small of my back, never leaving me even though we’re jostled as we push our way toward the auditorium. When we reach our destination, he opens the door for me.

  “After you, Juliet,” he says.

  I’m too freaked out to answer, and by the time I think of a casual, snappy response, it’s too late.

  Today, Mr. Fredericks is having us do a read-through of Act I. He hasn’t blocked out the stage, so we’re just sitting down today, reading from the script
as our parts come up. He’ll probably have us do this for a few days until we’re familiar with our lines. Then we’ll take to the stage and the real acting will begin. Usually, I’d feel pretty comfortable with reading my lines straight from the script, but Eddie is sitting next to me, and I’m so nervous, I’m tripping over my words. By the time we leave, I’m embarrassed and almost in tears. I flee the auditorium without saying anything to Eddie. Morgan is right on my heels.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks as soon as we’re within the privacy of her car.

  “I sucked. I can’t do this. Eddie makes me too nervous.”

  “You can do it, Row. I know you can. The chemistry between you and Eddie is what’s going to make this play spectacular. You just need to get over the initial awkwardness.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “I don’t know. But you and Eddie have art together. Once you get to know each other a little better, it won’t feel so weird.”

  Morgan is wrong. The more I talk to Eddie, the more nervous I become. The more he flirts with me, the more confused I am about my feelings—and his. One thing’s certain. I need to work this out before I ruin the play.

  Chapter Eight

  I’m nervous all day long about seeing Eddie in art class. After yesterday’s debacle, he’s probably figured out that I’m a neurotic freak who can’t handle the pressure of a leading role. I consider finding a different place to sit, but there are no empty spots. I sit next to Eddie, studiously avoiding his gaze.

  “So, are you gonna tell me what happened yesterday?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You seemed upset when you left the auditorium.”

  “Well, yeah. Because I totally screwed up my lines. I sucked.”

  “You weren’t that bad,” he says. I shoot him a sideways look. “Okay, it was sort of bad. But I know what your problem is.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  He leans in close. “I make you nervous, don’t I?” he whispers.

  I lean away from him and turn my head to face him. “It isn’t you…”

  “Oh, really? Well, if that’s the case, then you won’t mind hanging out with me so we can practice our lines. Alone.”

  My body trembles at the implication of his words. “Alone?”

  “I thought we might be able to practice without all those people watching, you know?”

  “Isn’t that the whole point of a play? To perform in front of other people?” I’m not sure if I’m ready to spend time alone with Eddie.

  “It’s not just about practicing our lines. We should get to know each other since we’re going to be working together so closely.”

  “We talk to each other in art class every day.”

  “It’s not the same,” he says. “You’re nervous around me, whether it’s in the auditorium or here in class. Maybe we need a change of scenery.”

  “You think I won’t be nervous if I’m alone with you?” I can’t imagine anything more nerve racking—or tempting—than being alone with Eddie.

  “I think it’s worth a try.”

  What should I say? I’m not sure why he wants to be alone with me. I’m not sure if I trust him. What if he tries to do something I don’t want to do? Of course, he might not be interested in me in that way. Maybe he’s trying to be nice and his intentions are honorable. I’ll never know for sure if I don’t give him a chance. I can’t hide from life forever.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. We’ll hang out and practice our lines.” The huge lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow. “Alone,” I whisper.

  For a moment, he’s silent. “I like you, Rowan. I’m not gonna mess you around. We’ll just practice our lines. I swear to God you can trust me.” He makes the sign of the cross, touching his forehead, down to his chest, and then each shoulder. “Today’s a short rehearsal. Can we hang out afterwards?”

  “Yeah. Sure. I…”

  The bell rings. So far, every conversation I’ve ever had with Eddie has been interrupted by a bell, or his brother, or Morgan. I wonder what we’ll have to talk about when we’re alone. A shiver runs through me as I realize I’m going to find out. Soon.

  ***

  I’m so anxious during rehearsals, my voice wobbles when I read my lines. Somehow, I manage to read without tripping over my words, but I can tell by the look on Mr. Frederick’s face that he is seriously regretting giving me the part of Juliet. One way or another, I’m going to have to figure out how to work with Eddie.

  Rehearsal is over before I have a chance to talk to Morgan. Eddie’s waiting for me at the end of our row, but Morgan still hasn’t noticed I’m waiting to talk to her. She’s chatting with Becca, oblivious to my shifting feet and nervous fumbling.

  “Hey, Mo? Sorry to interrupt. I’m, um, leaving.”

  “You don’t need a ride home? Where are you going?”

  “Just, you know. I’ll call you later.”

  Her eyes travel to the end of the row, and Becca’s gaze follows. “Oh,” Morgan says. “Well, have fun. You’d better call me later.”

  I can feel people watching me as I join Eddie and follow him from the auditorium. My pulse is racing and I’m queasy. Sweat breaks out on my brow. Am I too young to have a heart attack? Surely, my reaction to Eddie is unhealthy. We don’t speak until we leave the building. We’re on the west side where the students park. I wonder if my dad has already left. What if he sees me with Eddie when he drives away?

  “I thought we could walk over to the park on Clay Street. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Sorry, I don’t have a car,” he says.

  “Why are you sorry? I don’t have one either.”

  “I’ve been working and saving up for one, but I had some unexpected expenses.”

  “Oh.” Maybe he had to pay for a lawyer or something related to his legal troubles. I figure it’s better not to ask about that, so instead, I ask, “Where do you work?”

  “I work with my brother on the weekends. He owns a landscaping company. You met Carlos at the mall, remember?” I nod.

  We’ve left the school grounds and are heading down the main road. The park is a good fifteen minute walk. I’m not sure how I’m going to get home, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be after dark when I get there. Before rehearsal, I’d sent my mom a text telling her I was hanging out with friends after school and wouldn’t be home until dinner time. I deliberately failed to mention Eddie’s name.

  “Do you work?” he asks.

  “Yeah, at Burger Queen. I don’t get many hours.”

  “What do you do when you’re not at school or working?”

  “Um, not much. I hang out with Morgan. Or watch old movies with my mom. I do show choir stuff . Oh, and I used to play softball.”

  “For school?”

  “No. Fast pitch scares the crap out of me. I played on a slow pitch league.”

  “What position?”

  “Pitcher.”

  “That’s great. Why did you quit?”

  “I…I just, you know, didn’t have time.”

  “Anything else I should know about you?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure you out for a long time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was on your dad’s team for three years, and you never said a word to me. Maybe because you only had eyes for Mark.”

  Hearing Mark’s name on Eddie’s beautiful lips is like a slap. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

  “Because you broke up?” Eddie asks. I shrug. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. We can just talk about the play. Or we can talk about us.”

  “Us?”

  “You know. Me. You. Stuff we have in common.”

  “What do we have in common?” I ask.

  “Well, Rowan. That’s what I’d like to find out.”

  Eddie wants to know about m
e? Why? How could he have noticed me, or thought about me for three years when all he was to me was a name on a roster? It’s unfathomable that Eddie noticed so much about me—that I played Rizzo in Grease, who I dated.

  I wish he wouldn’t have mentioned Mark. What if Eddie’s only befriending me to try to get back in my dad’s good graces? Though, how would that help him? Football season is over and my dad’s animosity is the least of Eddie’s concerns.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar. You’re frowning. Must be a reason why.”

  “I’m just wondering how I’m going to get home.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let you walk home alone. If my brother can’t pick us up, I’ll walk you home, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you gonna tell me what you’re really thinking about?”

  “That was it.”

  “Okay, Rowan. Okay. I won’t push.”

  We’re silent until we reach the park. We sit at a picnic table, me on one side and Eddie on the other. The distance between us is reassuring. Kids are playing on the playground beside us. They run and scream while their nannies or housekeepers sit on benches, chatting with each other.

  “Do you want to practice our lines?” I ask.

  “No, Rowan. Let’s just talk,” he says.

  “Okay. You talk first.” I pick up a small twig that’s lying on the table and run the tip of it along the groove in the wood. It gives me something to focus on besides the intensity of Eddie’s gaze.

  “I was gonna be the first kid in my family to go to college, but I messed up and lost my scholarship,” he says.

  I look at him, shocked by his sudden declaration. His eyes are sad. I’d expected him to ease into the conversation. Maybe we’d compare favorite colors, or food allergies, or favorite songs, or something. But for him to dive right in and talk about something so serious?

  “Yeah, I’m sure you heard all about what happened. Everyone has. It’s not a secret.”

  “All I know is that you got arrested. Something that had to do with a party and alcohol.”

  “And property damage,” he says. “It was me, Mark, Lyon, Braden, and a bunch of other guys. Mostly football players. We were over at Alex’s house. I don’t know who brought the drugs, but you know how parties are. Someone always brings some kind of shit they’re not supposed to bring.”