Dodger

by Dan Gallagher

12

  THE FACE IN THE MIRROR is blocked as Theresa stands in front of it, touching up my eyeliner.

  “All right, it's going to be hot under those lights, so you'll probably start dripping this shit off at some point.”

  “When?”

  “Real soon.” She tussles my hair, which is in fact a wig, until she's satisfied. Then she stares at the finished product, smiling. “There. Perfect.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She moves out of the way and there I am, long hair, bandana, a fake neck tattoo, and the perfect amount of makeup to make it look like I care yet don't. So chic. So glam. So rock star.

  Which is what I am.

  “Jim, oh my God...”

  From behind me I hear the sweetest voice on Earth, my love, Kara, holding her clipboard and adjusting the headset intertwined with her luscious locks. She wears the director hat well and I want to take her then and there but know we have work to do.

  I can tell she's thinking the same as she comes over to me.

  “Ohh...” She strokes my wig, then runs her hand down my fully developed abs, stopping just before the promised land. She looks deep into my eyes, and I smile.

  “Hey, this might look bad in front of the crew.”

  She shrugs. “I'm the director. What can they do?”

  We kiss, laugh, fondle each other a little bit. Theresa, still standing there, sighs.

  “Great. Now I have to redo his lips.”

  Kara turns to her. “Well, make it quick. Curtain in five.”

  She winks at me and runs off. Theresa goes to work on my pucker and I lay back, staring at the high ceiling of the theater.

  Curtain in five.

  I'm not sweating the fact that I haven't looked at the script today because I have it all in my head. Any nervousness about going on stage for the first time in five years melts away because Kara's about to watch her play come to life, next to me, her lead and lover. I'm so focused and driven on this thing, I'm knocking it out of the park. I'm going to be awesome, I told her, because I flat out fucking love you.

  And that's what people in love do.

  She loves me, too. That's why I got the lead in her play without so much as an audition. Giving the writer/director orgasms that bring her within an inch of her life has its perks.

  And after two weeks of rehearsal upon rehearsal, trials, tribulations, moments of revelation and fuck ups, the time has finally come to bring this baby into the world.

  Rock-A-Bye Baby is about to be born.

  And I'm that fucking baby.

  I'm in a slightly meditative state as the two female leads, Jenny and Amber, perform the opening scene. Kara is on the other side of the stage, ready with the script in case anyone needs a prompt, talking wildly into her headset, feeding the lighting guy his cues. I just breathe in and out easily.

  How I wound up here is a miracle.

  Just one short year ago I was a basket case, a lost cause, a ridiculously rudimentary example of how a thirty year old man should not behave concerning matters of the heart. I was pretty much a sappy sad sack, reveling in the pain of the one that got away, marinating myself in guilt and anger because I was convinced she was the only one I wanted and that life wouldn't be complete unless I had her.

  Well, I got her.

  And yeah, I was right.

  The girls start jawing at each other on stage. Argument Number One. I have about five minutes.

  Breathe in... breathe out.

  It was as I suspected from the get go – Kara wanted to be with me all along. I just pushed her away. She said we both needed time to learn and grow from the mistakes we'd made and that it couldn't have been repaired when we were the way we were, always getting fucked up and messing with each other's emotions. Being poisonous. I said she was right and that I wasn't able to understand the concept because no one had ever hit me that hard before. She said the same.

  In essence, we drove each other crazy.

  But it was all for a reason.

  The third time was a charm. We started slow, well, semi-slow, and didn't get wrapped up in drunken emotions like the last time. In fact, the more we hung out, the less we drank. I certainly noticed it, and it was obvious Kara did too when she brought it up in bed after we'd had a three hour sexathon in every position known to man. She said she didn't even think about drinking when she was with me and I said yeah it's way more fun without it, so we made a conscious effort to continue the trend and not drink, at least around each other.

  The results were staggering.

  I started working out. She started writing again. And the sex... my God, it took off to new heights, spatial in fact, and we discovered all the secret little buttons on our bodies that could turn even the most normal orgasm into a Gravitron ride of pure ecstasy. We were tapping into our full potential, together, and that was making us unstoppable.

  And we didn't stop.

  The more time we spent together, the more productive our time apart was. She finished her play. I started taking acting classes again. She got promoted at work. I quit smoking. Life was improving exponentially and we got closer and closer as it did. I learned how to be in a relationship, a real one, with a lot of help from Kara and the wanton desire to keep the best thing in my life around as long as I could.

  Now here we are, just under a year later.

  And I've never been happier in my life.

  Amber gets up and starts her heartwrenching monologue about how Christian, my character, never got to meet his daughter. How she grew up without knowing her father and how he went all these years never knowing she even existed. How the last eight years of her life she's been keeping this horrible secret inside her, and how that when Christian gets here, she'll finally come clean and tell him everything.

  I have two minutes.

  The Dodger is long gone.

  I think about how close I was to being resurrected all the time. Would it have been as glamorous as I imagined? Would I really have become an overnight celebrity again? Paiger's words still resonate in my head.

  It's old news.

  And it was.

  But it was still news.

  I think about the road not taken, a road paved with diamonds and tiaras, a road with book deals, movie deals, and the limelight pouring in. If the news story had aired, what would've happened? Would I be the same person?

  I spot Kara across the stage, watching the action. I never did tell her the truth, how I leaked the fantastic unfoldings of our love, and how Paiger and I took advantage of her emotions in a grand scheme to win her back. I didn't even mention the news story because it never actually happened. I wanted to spill my guts on several occasions, but the more our relationship blossomed, the less relevant it seemed. So I never did.

  And at this point, it would do more harm than good for her to know.

  I guess I'm taking it to the grave.

  Amber starts crying and puts her head on the table as Jenny storms off stage. The lights dim. As one of the stagehands moves around a prop or two I lock eyes with Kara, who's nothing short of elated. She blows me a kiss and winks. I smile.

  The lights surge. Amber sips her fake coffee.

  That's my cue.

  I take one more deep breath, hold it for a moment, exhale.

  Showtime.

  “'No, Jessica, you don't understand... you're my daughter, and I love you!'”

  “'Then why didn't you ever come see me?! My whole life all I've wanted to do was meet you!'”

  “'I didn't even know you existed until four hours ago!'”

  The eight year old who plays my daughter, Caroline, is good. I remember when we were auditioning the part - no one even came close to her. She's been acting since she was four and it shows, especially during rehearsal when someone else blows a line and she remembers it. Along with the rest of the scene. She's totally Hollywood bound.

  I try to match her emotions best I can but it's hard, especially when she starts crying. I think about my parents and sure enough
, my tears come too.

  “'I'm... I'm so sorry, Jessica. You're right. I should've been here for you. I should've taken responsibility. I should've... oh, God, I'm so sorry.'”

  My big monologue. My big moment. I let the water works fly, and I can hear people in the audience start crying as well. Good sign. I continue:

  “'If I'd known... if I'd only known. I can't make up for the past, if I could I would, if I could've been there to see you grow up I would've... but I couldn't.” I told Kara to edit all the coulds and woulds but she never got around to it. Luckily I have a talented tongue. “'I can't change things. I can't augment the past. All I can do is be here for you now. And that's what I want, Jessica. I want to be here for you. I want to be your dad. I... I am your dad. The only question is, do you want me to be?”

  Caroline holds her tears back as mine start to come out in droves. She looks at me.

  “'I don't know, Christian. I just don't know.'”

  She runs off crying, leaving me on stage alone, and as I look into the audience, where hearts are breaking one by one, I fall to my knees and bury my face in my hands.

  The lights dim. Curtain.

  And the applause deafens.

  Definitely.

  As the cast and crew envelop me in the most loving group hug I've ever been a part of I can only think of one feeling that must be greater than this and that's being mobbed at home plate after hitting the home run that wins the World Series. Pure, sheer, unadulterated joy, the kind I can't even describe, the kind that makes the warm fuzzies in my stomach explode like a supernova and completely saturate my being. Time stands still and instead of love from one it's love from many, manymanymany, and even though the applause subsides it'll live on in my head forever. I'm elated.

  I'm in love.

  And my God, does it feel good.

  I stand, tears and makeup streaming down my face, and the curtain rises once again. We take our bows and the applause swells. Kara and the rest of the girls push me forward. I resist but the shouts of Bravo! bombard me, so I move up stage just a little to revel in it. Bring on the shower of slappy hands, I'll never tire of it, ever.

  A single rose flies from the audience and out of plain reaction I dodge it. I look back at Kara, and the irony isn't lost on either of us.

  I mouth, I love you.

  She mouths it too.

  And life... is... perfect.