by Traci Briery
"I started talking to them, but you called lunch," Loraine said. "I guess—"
"Oh, I wasn't trying to interrupt you," Tamara said. "I didn't see that you were talking to them."
"I don't think it'll be a problem after a few times," Loraine said. "They'll get it eventually."
Tamara nodded, and her eyes went up to follow the man who was approaching their table from behind Loraine. He seemed to recognize her. Another one, she thought. The man put his hand on Loraine's shoulder. She sat up straight and almost swallowed her food the wrong way.
"Excuse me? Aren't you Phyllis Turner?" She turned around. He wore dark sunglasses, but she had no difficulty recognizing him. "Could I have your autograph?" he said.
"Michael!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I'm—"
"I mean_" she broke in. "Well, you know what I mean."
"Believe it or not, I'm on vacation," Michael said. "My character has 'mysteriously disappeared' for the next few weeks, meaning I get a break. I'll probably come back with amnesia or something."
"Is that the only way you guys can get any time off?"
"No, they can kill off our characters, too," he said with a wink. "I didn't mean to interrupt if you're…"
"Uh, no, not really," Loraine mumbled.
"Did you say you have amnesia?" Tamara asked.
"Hm? Uh, no, see I'm—" Michael stopped and leaned forward, removing his glasses and lowering his voice, "I work on a soap opera. Their plotlines can sometimes be… you know, unusual."
"Oh, I think I've seen you now," Paul said. "Uh… I don't remember which soap, that is. Probably on a magazine cover."
"Yeah, suuuuuure," Tamara said, nudging him.
"I believe I've seen your face on a cover or two," Michael said, holding out his hand to Tamara. She took it and shook hands weakly. "Tamara Taylor, right?"
"Yeah," she said. "Oh! Not too loud, okay?"
"Oo! Sorry about that," Michael muttered. He put his sunglasses back on.
"Um, Michael?" Loraine's voice came softly.
"Yes?"
"I… changed my name," she said. "It's Loraine now. Not Phyllis."
"Loraine, huh?" he said, nodding his head as though giving it great consideration. "I like it."
"Thanks."
"I was wondering when you'd finally do that, actually. You've hated 'Phyllis' since I've known you."
"Long before that," she said. "Uh—well—I was surprised to see you here, and, uh—well, it was nice seeing you again."
He looked at her with a gentle smile.
"It was nice seeing you again, too," he said quietly. He patted her shoulder. "Maybe we'll run into each other at some more restaurants."
"Yeah," she said. "Maybe we will."
"Well!" he said, bringing his hands together. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you all. Ms. Taylor, it was a pleasure meeting you."
"Nice meeting you, too."
"I'll leave you all alone, then," he said. "Phyl—uhh, Loraine. See you around, I hope."
"Yeah."
Michael waved briefly and let his hand linger on Loraine's shoulder as he did so. He let it slide off slowly as he finally took his leave. There was a brief silence after he had gone out of earshot.
"He was my boyfriend," Loraine said.
"Ohh," Tamara said. "Not anymore, huh?"
"Nan, we, uh—we actually broke up not too long ago. That is, I broke up with him."
"Oh, sorry."
"Yeah, well, he's called me a couple of times," Loraine said. "They were always at bad times, like when I couldn't call him back."
"He'll get the hint eventually," Tamara assured.
"I guess," Loraine said. "Except that I broke up with him, because he wouldn't commit. I wanted to move in with him, and he 'wasn't ready.' So it wasn't like some couples who fight all the time."
"Oh," Tamara said, nodding. "I've been through something like that, too. I know what you're saying."
Paul looked at his watch and tapped Tamara's shoulder. "We need the check soon," he said. The two women now looked at their watches.
"Damn," Tamara muttered. "Lunch always goes so fast for me. Hate it. Back to the music, huh?"
"Back to the music," Loraine said.
Loraine had been very close to expressing her misgivings about remaining with Tamara's troupe, until Michael had interrupted her thoughts. She had actually come close to quitting her position since her first day on the job, besides not accepting the job in the first place. Once she began dancing, though, she was always swept away by the music, the movement, and the emotion. But whenever the music stopped, Loraine returned to her somber state of mind. If Tamara had noticed Loraine's mood swings in the meantime, she had not mentioned anything.
The lunchbreak had done everyone some good. Rene and Danny, the two who had been having difficulties with some of the moves, finally fell into place and never fell out again. A minor difficulty with some of Tamara's moves was dealt with, and the day was finished. Loraine was drinking the last of her mineral water, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn't need to turn around to know that it was Tamara.
"You were great today," she said after Loraine turned around.
"Thanks. Everyone was."
"Tomorrow I wanna work on " 'True Minds,' " Tamara said. "Except, I don't think I like everyone being out there. I mean, maybe just two of us onstage would look the best. Me and two others, I mean."
"No problem," Loraine said, gathering her gear.
"Yeah. Well, see ya, Lor," Tamara said, and left to join Paul, who wasted no time discussing business. Loraine was at the door, though, when Tamara called to her.
"Hm?" Loraine said, and waited. Tamara broke away from Paul to join her.
"I was just wondering something," Tamara said, her voice low. "Are you okay?"
Loraine seemed confused by the question, when in reality a knot was tying in her stomach.
"Oh, yeah," she said cautiously. "How come?" Tamara responded briefly with silence.
"No reason, I guess," she said eventually. "You seem like you're… down a lot. When you're not dancing, I mean. But… you're probably just tired, huh?"
"Yeah," Loraine said distantly. "I'm just tired."
"Sorry 'bout that, girlie," Tamara said. "But… if you're ever… 'not tired,' you call me, okay?"
"No problem."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tamara's concern for Loraine, now finally revealed, was mostly for professional, but also personal, reasons. Any problem that could affect a performance needed to be disclosed to Tamara. This, and she genuinely cared for her "people." Once the thrill of working for a celebrity wore off, Tamara expected Loraine and the others to become friends. Loraine had not yet revealed her unusual problem to Tamara, but in less than two weeks it would become necessary to.
That night after rehearsal, Loraine spent almost an hour sitting on her futon, holding the scrap paper upon which she had scribbled Michael's phone number. Roxanne was not at home. Loraine did not know if she would come home later or would stay at Linda's for the night. For a brief time she contemplated practicing on controlling her monthly change, then discarded the thought. She could not afford to give the wolf any opportunity to come out.
Loraine reached instinctively for the phone when it rang, then decided to let the answering machine do its work. After the message ended, she went to the kitchen and replayed it. A hang-up. Just then the phone rang again, so she answered it this time.
"Hello?" she said a second time. Silence. Loraine hung up quickly without another thought. Everyone got crank calls like that one. They were annoying, but never frightening.
She went to the couch and slumped in, when the phone rang again. Growling now, Loraine dragged herself from the couch and snatched up the phone.
"Hello!" she said.
"Wh—? is this Loraine?" a male voice said. "Oh, I mean—"
"Michael?"
"You said it's Loraine now, right?"
; "Um—um, yeah," Loraine said. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah, I do," Michael said. "It's better than Phyllis. That is, not that I hated it, but you always did."
"Well, Phyllis is an old lady's name," Loraine said. "So when I'm an old lady, I should change it back."
"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Yeah." An awkward silence followed.
"You didn't just call earlier, did you?" Loraine asked.
"When?"
"Just before now," she said. "And didn't say anything?"
"Not me. It must have been a wrong number."
"I guess so," she said. "So… what is it? I mean, what's up?"
"Oh… nothing, really," he said. "I was just… it was nice seeing you again, that's all."
"It was nice seeing you, too."
"Yeah," he said. "And… your friend, too. You didn't tell me you and Tamara Taylor were best buddies!"
"We're not 'best buddies,' " Loraine corrected. "I work for her now."
"No kidding? As a dancer?"
"Her choreographer."
Michael whistled, impressed. "Nice work, Phyl—uh, Loraine. Jeez, I'm sorry. I'm trying to remember that."
"That's okay," she said. "You didn't find out until today."
"Uhhh, I know," he said. "I'll just remember that you look more like Loraine Bracco than Phyllis Diller."
"Gee, thanks."
"Oh, you know what I mean," he said. "I'll think of some way to remember. But—congratulations, anyway! Tamara Taylor is really hot now!"
"She's going on tour in a few months," Loraine said. "That's why she's getting a dance troupe together."
"Outstanding," he said. "You were way overdue for a break. I know that you really love dancing—"
"True."
"—and people who love what they do shouldn't be frustrated all the time."
"Like you?"
"Me?" he said. "Well, not anymore. I'm on a soap, remember? But… yes and no, to be honest. It's not like soap acting is the epitome of the craft."
"Nicely put," she said. "Um… Michael… I was wondering… if you're on vacation, why would you still be in L.A.? Not that I'm saying 'get outta town,' but_you could probably afford a trip around the world by now, right?"
"Um… probably," he said. "But that brings me to the real reason I called. Last week I was out of town, but this week I promised to do these benefit dinners in town, and, um… of course, this new job must be keeping you exhausted, but, um… well, I… I wasn't sure if you'd even be interested in a benefit dinner. People give long speeches and toasts and… the food is usually good, though."
"When is it?"
"Um… Thursday night," he said. "Seven o'clock. I know this is real spur of the moment, but… I've just been thinking about you lately. You never return my calls, so I guess you're not thinking of me, but I'm thinking of you."
"It's not like that," Loraine said quietly. "I do think about you. It's just—"
"Just what?" Michael said after a pause.
"I doubt if you'll believe me," she said, "But I do want to see you again. I really do. But—this is a terrible time for me right now. You have no idea."
"Is it—is it your work?"
"No," she said quickly. "Work is fine. It's something I've been going through that—I don't want you getting involved in."
"Um… oh," Michael said. "I think I know what you mean now."
"I doubt it."
"Well, it's another guy, right?"
"I could give you a million guesses right now, and you wouldn't get it," she said. "No, it isn't another guy. That I could deal with."
"Then what is it?"
"I said I don't want you getting involved," she said, but unconvincingly.
"You don't have AIDS or something, do you?" he asked. " 'Cuz if you do, I—"
"Michael, please," she said. "I don't have AIDS, it's not another guy, it's—it's just not anything you can help me with!"
"But now that I know that something's really bothering you, I can't just hang up and forget you said anything," he said.
"Michael—"
"Maybe it isn't something I can 'help' you with," he continued. "But—I don't know. I could try to cheer you up, couldn't I?"
Loraine smiled, but out of frustration.
"Couldn't I?" he asked again.
"I can't tell you what it is," she said.
"Then don't," he said. "At least, not until you're ready. I won't even ask."
"You'll just get hurt," she said. "I'd die if you ended up—hurt."
"I've already been hurt."
"Not the way you could be."
"Loraine," he said, "tell me now. Do you ever want to talk to me again? Ever see me again? If you don't, then say it now. If you don't, then… I'll leave you alone."
"I_" she started, then needed to stop and take a breath. "I want to see you tonight. I just need somebody to… be here."
"I'll be right there."
Loraine thought of banging her head against the wall. How could she be so weak? She paced the living room floor endlessly, wondering why she couldn't summon the courage to call Michael back and cancel their "date," or why she had asked him to come in the first place. Not too long ago she would have easily found the strength to refuse him, to… protect him.
It was night, but Michael appeared at her door with sunglasses on. She hesitated at first, struggling over whether to allow him inside or to send him right back home. She allowed him inside. He removed his sunglasses as he entered.
"Hi," he said as she locked the door behind him.
"Hi," she said. They stood face-to-face now. He shifted back and forth while she fidgeted with her hands, and then the two fell forward into an embrace. Loraine rested her head against Michael's chest before looking up to kiss him. She wanted him never to leave, even though he would have to, and soon. Perhaps forever.
"Hi," he said again, and looked quickly around the room. "Is your roommate here?"
"Uh… um, no," she said, her thoughts returning to her. "I don't know where she is."
"Do you want to sit?" he said.
"Yeah," she said, but stood tiptoe to kiss him again. He would have to leave. He would be hurt, or killed, if he stayed.
Michael put his arm around her waist as they went to the couch and fell into its cushions. Loraine leaned close to Michael as he rubbed her shoulder gently.
"Did you still not want to talk," he began, "or did you want to?"
She shook her head.
"You still don't want to?"
"I don't. I can't."
"Okay," he said. "If you still don't want to talk, I just want you to know that I can at least just… sit here and be here with you. If it helps."
"Maybe it will," she whispered. "I'm glad you're here, though." She was horrified that he was there. She was disgusted with herself for being so weak. She sat back up.
"But I'm a terrible hostess," she said. "Do you want me to get you something?"
"I'm fine," he said, waving her off. "C'mere. You're the one who needs comforting, right?"
"I'm… I'm just using you," she said. "I mean, asking you to come here just so I can cry on you?"
"That's all right," he said.
"It's not fair to you, though," she said. "Especially since I can't even tell you what's wrong."
"Well… well, does anyone know? Can't you tell anyone what's going on?"
"Roxanne knows."
"So it's… girl stuff, right?"
"Uh, well, I wouldn't say that, exactly."
"So…" Michael stopped, then sat up straight. "Loraine, " he said, "are you pregnant?"
"Like I said, I could give you a million guesses and you wouldn't get it," she said.
"Well, are you?"
"No. Please don't ask me, Michael. I might tell you, and then you'd think that I'm crazy."
"Oh, I knew that a long time ago."
"What?"
"Just kidding!" he said quickly. "Just joking. You know, since I don't know what's wrong, it's all I can d
o to keep things light. You know?"
Loraine watched him before smiling sadly. She sat up straight again and fidgeted with her fingers.
"I guess it'd be safe to go to that thing on Thursday," she said. Tell him to leave. "Or actually, I forgot to ask Tamara about it. In case she wants to do 'overtime' or something."
"Why don't you call her now?"
Loraine rose from the couch to do just that.
"And tell her I have all of her albums," he added.
"You don't have any of them."
"Well, I'll get all of them!" he called. She smiled, but very briefly, and called Tamara's private line. An unfamiliar male voice answered and took Loraine's message that Tamara return her call.
Michael had turned on the television before Loraine hung up. She almost asked him to turn it off, then realized that it would be a good way to avoid conversation. She returned to her place beside Michael and watched the television screen flip from channel to channel. Michael's tendency to "channel surf" had often been an irritant to Loraine, but now it was a comfort. It allowed her to keep from concentrating on any one subject.
Apparently satisfied, Michael leaned back after settling on one station. It seemed familiar to Loraine.
"What is this?" she asked.
"The Exorcist,' " he said. "I haven't seen this in—"
"No," she said, snatching up the controller to change the channel. "No monster movies. No scary stuff. I don't need that right now."
"Oh," he said. "Sorry. Guess I wasn't thinking. I'll find some sitcom. Ohhh, 'Star Trek.' Do you mind?"
"No," she said. He could have turned on any show, save another horror movie. Loraine watched the show, but absorbed nothing of what was happening. She leaned close to Michael, wrapped her arms around his, and shut her eyes. His gaze was glued to the television, until she began nuzzling his shoulder. She kissed him twice on the shoulder; Michael then tore his gaze from the space show and responded in kind to her affections. By the next commercial break they had tossed the throw pillows and back cushions from the sofa, and were doing some "space exploration" of their own.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Loraine was jolted from sleep by a bang. Or rather, a slam. Somebody had slammed the door. Michael, his head under the pillow, groaned and rolled back and forth. Loraine rubbed her eyes and groped for her underwear. Michael fumbled with the pillow and seemed surprised after he finally pulled it away from his face. He forced his eyes open and watched Loraine as she pulled on her nightshirt.
