by Ann Roberts
She was ticked off that she was running late, and for the first time she agreed with Jackie’s summation of the problem. “Addy,” Jackie had said, “these people are taking advantage of you. Tell them to grow up and deal with life. They need to figure out their own problems and deal with the bus timetable. They’re all adults and you’re not responsible for them.”
“No, I’m not,” Addy muttered as she turned into the bus bay.
She quickly initiated her end of shift procedures, avoided dawdling, and deliberately ducked past Jackie’s office to get out of the building quickly. She had somewhere to be.
On her bike, she pedaled faster than ever, zipping past the pedestrians out for their evening walk. She periodically threw up a hand in greeting to all the walkers she knew, but she kept her mind focused on the road—and didn’t let her mind wander.
She was very excited and realized her excitement connected to her annoyance with the day’s passengers and their problems. Usually Addy didn’t have evening plans. If she stopped at the Bijou or hung out with Jackie, it was completely impromptu. It didn’t matter if she was late since she had nothing mentally pushing her forward through the day. But today she did.
Mazie had arranged a special showing of Dragon Mothers for the two of them, and possibly Almondine if she wanted to join. The Theater One movie had ended its run at the Bijou, and Mazie deliberately left off a showing of the Theater Two movie so the three of them could watch the documentary alone, after the general public had left.
Addy had never been to a private showing. It was special, and it was nice of Mazie to include her. As the Bijou came within sight, she silently hoped Almondine wouldn’t join them. She bit her lip at the realization: she wanted Mazie all to herself. She instantly felt guilty because Almondine had been good to her. No one else would’ve allowed her to color code the candy or get her own refreshments.
Still, the wish for Almondine’s absence lingered. “Then it’s like a date,” Addy mumbled, as she waved at Tango, sitting in the little ticket booth, compiling the day’s receipts. She brought her bicycle through the front doors. It was starting to rain, and Almondine always allowed her to store her bike in the storeroom on nights like these—another nice thing Almondine had done for her.
And you still don’t want her watching the movie with you? Then this is a date.
The lobby was vacant, which meant Almondine was probably in her office and Mazie was preparing for the end of the movie in Theater Two. Addy ducked under the concessions stand counter and prepared her popcorn dinner. She was just adding butter when Tango came through the front door carrying the cash drawer.
“Well, that’s it for tonight,” she said. “Are you excited about seeing Dragon Moms? I am.” Tango wore a broad smile that Addy would best describe as giddy.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were joining us,” Addy said, as she deliberately pulled the corners of her mouth up, hoping her smile was convincing. “It’s supposed to be a leading contender for the documentary category of the Academy Awards.”
Tango grimaced. “Documentary? I didn’t know it was…non-fiction. Are you sure?”
Addy saw a light. “Well, yeah. It’s about Mormon mothers who support their LGBTQ children, despite their conflicting religious beliefs.”
“Oh,” Tango frowned. “I thought it was about dragons and baby dragons. You know, like animé?” She looked at Addy hopefully. “Are you sure it’s a documentary?”
“Positive.”
“Well, after I put the cash drawer in the safe, I think I’ll just head over to the card store and play some Magic. Can you tell Mazie I’m taking a pass?”
“Sure,” Addy said with a nod. When Tango left, Addy grinned. But then she frowned. Do I want this to be a date—or not?
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mazie asked as she closed the projection room door.
“Is this a date?”
Mazie swallowed and composed herself before she asked, “Do you want it to be a date?”
Addy bit her lip. She looked away and shrugged. When she glanced at Mazie again, her face oozed kindness, and Addy felt tingly inside. “I’m not sure.”
“Um,” Mazie said, “then let’s not define it. How about that?”
“Okay, but I’d like to know what you intended.”
Mazie blushed and smiled coquettishly. “I was hoping for a date.” Then she quickly added, “But I just want to spend time with you, so it doesn’t matter. We don’t even have to sit together.”
“No, I definitely want to sit with you.” Addy blinked, surprised by her earnestness. “And Tango came by and said she wasn’t coming. Will Almondine be joining us?”
“No, she has a migraine tonight so she’s gone to bed. It’s just us. Okay?”
“Super.”
They spent the next two hours learning about Dragon Moms, sharing a tub of popcorn, and occasionally offering editorial comments when the narrator made a point—something Addy never would’ve done during a regular cinema experience.
But this is a date or a faux-date.
When the movie ended, they clapped and Mazie said, “Stay here while I run up and shut down the system. Don’t leave,” she stressed, giving Addy’s arm a squeeze.
While she was gone, Addy brushed off the popcorn kernels that littered her chest and cleaned up the floor as best she could.
“Thanks for picking up,” Mazie said when she returned. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
“Did you like the film?”
“I did. Did you?”
“I did.”
“Yeah.”
Addy put her hands on her knees to stop them from bobbing up and down. She stretched her legs and was about to excuse herself when Mazie said, “What’s your favorite lesbian movie?”
Addy relaxed and her DVD collection flashed in her mind. “When Night is Falling.”
“Oh, that was a good one. I’d say mine is The Kiss.”
Addy cocked her head to the side. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Not many people have. It was French. I saw it in New York. They get a lot of independent and foreign films you can’t see anywhere else.”
“What was it about? I mean, other than a kiss.”
“Actually, that’s all it was about. This Parisian woman sets out to find the greatest kiss of her lifetime.”
Addy’s ears perked. She’d always believed one purpose of her mental vacations was to find a fabulous kisser. “Did she find the best kisser in the world?”
Mazie chuckled. “Well, as you might suspect, she learned it was all about relationships. Anyone can be a fabulous kisser with the right person.”
She leaned toward Addy. Her breasts hung over the armrest, and Addy suddenly realized how well-endowed she was. And how close.
“Did you want to practice your singing?”
Mazie recoiled and rubbed her neck. “I don’t know, Addy. I don’t think I feel like it tonight.”
“I’d love to hear you again. I think you have the best voice I’ve ever heard.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. It makes me feel…flimsy.”
Mazie laughed and covered her mouth. “Sorry, that wasn’t polite. I’ve just never had that effect on anyone. What does it mean?”
Addy shrugged and clasped her hands together. “I guess it’s like relaxed. If I were a cardboard box, after your singing, someone could come by and unfold me.”
Mazie seemed to process the image. “Is that a good feeling?”
“It’s a great feeling.” She stared at the concrete floor. “Sometimes when I’m anxious I’ll think about that song I heard you sing. Then I feel better.”
Tears pooled in Mazie’s eyes. “Thank you, Addy. That’s so nice of you to say.”
“It’s not just nice. It’s true.”
They stared at each other in the absolutely silent theater until Mazie said, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll sing another song for you, but you’ll have to do something for me.”
<
br /> “What?”
Mazie reached over and touched Addy’s clasped hands. “I’ll sing for you, which you know is difficult for me to do, if you’ll do something that I think might be rather difficult for you…”
“What?”
“I want you to give me a kiss when I finish.”
Addy tensed—until Mazie’s fingers gently massaged her hands while she hummed a preview of what she would sing. Each note was like a button popping off a shirt. Addy wanted more. She looked down. Mazie had intertwined their fingers. Heat radiated through her and she felt her heart pounding.
“Maybe I’ll take that kiss now,” Mazie whispered.
Mazie pulled them together and guided their lips apart. Her tongue roamed inside Addy’s mouth, sending shockwaves all the way to her center. She never could’ve imagined a simple touch could cause such a reaction! Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Mazie pulled away automatically. Addy was certain she’d offered the worst French kiss ever, and Mazie probably thought she was kissing a corpse.
“Sorry,” Addy said through clenched teeth. “I haven’t kissed a lot of people. I’ve watched tons of people kiss, mainly women, but I’m pretty sure I have more toes than received kisses. I—”
Mazie touched a finger to Addy’s lips. “Don’t worry about it.” She stood. “I think I owe you a song.”
Mazie floated onto the stage. She stared at the floor and her shoulders rose and fell as she took deep breaths. When she looked up, her eyes were closed. The first notes, low and deep, poured forth, and Addy felt all flimsy again. She relaxed into her chair and the notes, an extension of Mazie’s beautiful mouth, kissed her everywhere. She stared up at Mazie—for it seemed equally important to see her and hear the song, one she didn’t recognize. But it didn’t matter. It was as if Mazie took her hand and they traveled the melody together.
The song ended and Addy closed her eyes, trying to hang onto it—to Mazie—as the notes faded away into silence. Her eyes remained closed, but she felt Mazie’s presence as she returned to the seat next to her.
Addy sensed the touch before it happened. Mazie’s cool fingertips grazed her cheek and cupped her chin.
“I’d like to try again, but if you don’t want another kiss, just tell me.”
“I want,” Addy whispered, but she wasn’t sure Mazie heard. She wasn’t sure the words were real. She started to say it again, to make sure Mazie knew, but Mazie’s lips pressed hers into silence. She wrapped an arm around Mazie’s neck and pulled her closer—just like the movies.
Mazie’s tongue flicked against her own…and suddenly Addy saw colors. Blues, greens, reds, yellows…all swirling together in a kaleidoscope.
She ripped herself away. “I’m sorry,” she managed.
Mazie reached for her. “Addy, stay…”
But she ran out of the theater.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning Mazie decided to walk the twelve blocks to Cammon University for her appointment with Dr. Bertrand. Although she was physically exhausted from lack of sleep, she preferred walking over taking the bus and facing the reason she hadn’t slept.
The date had been wonderful, until the moment Addy panicked and ran out of the theater. They’d watched the movie like old friends, and Addy had really enjoyed herself. Mazie was sure of it. Trading a kiss for a song wasn’t something she’d planned. It had just happened. She’d so wanted to kiss her again since Addy had frozen the first time.
“Hey, lady! Watch where you’re walking!”
Mazie blinked. She was standing in the gutter. A middle-aged man in a blazer had his hand on her arm, pulling her out of the street. She realized she’d attempted to cross against the light. She followed his direction and nodded her gratefulness. He stared at her, clearly wondering if she was a crazy person. When the light changed, she charged ahead, determined to leave her embarrassment behind. Addy apparently wasn’t the only one who daydreamed.
She was still a few blocks from Cammon, but she’d deliberately walked to the south, away from Addy’s bus route. She wanted to give Addy some time. She’d either take Bus 47 or hoof it home, but she’d have to be much more cognizant of her surroundings, lest she wind up a tire pancake.
Once she was safely on the Cammon University property, she replayed the kiss—and felt a tingle down to her toes. She’d experienced great kisses, and other lovers had described Mazie as terrific in bed, but there was something about Addy’s mouth—inviting and willing—on the edge of passionate. She could tell Addy wanted to let go, but she was afraid. Mazie would just have to keep working on her. She smiled as she crossed the lush common grounds and headed into the fine arts building.
She found Dr. Bertrand at her desk, staring out the window while Mozart’s Piano Concerto Number One played in the background. She hesitated, not wanting to interrupt the professor’s solitude.
“Come in, Ms. Fenster,” Dr. Bertrand said, her back to Mazie.
Mazie took the leather chair across from Dr. Bertrand’s desk. She folded her hands in her lap, feeling a little naked. Dr. Bertrand had asked her to bring nothing, but that made her feel unprepared.
Dr. Bertrand slowly turned her chair, offering a slight smile. “How are you?”
“I’m good, thank you.”
Dr. Bertrand leaned back, assessing her answer, furthering her discomfort. Dr. Bertrand continued to stare, and although Mazie attempted to hold eye contact, as she knew she should, she had no idea what to say. So she said the first music fact that came to her mind. “Did you know Mozart was Catholic?”
“Yes.” Dr. Bertrand’s eyes narrowed. “Are you all right, Ms. Fenster?”
Mazie nodded. “Just nervous.” She swallowed and said, “Unfortunately, you make me nervous, Dr. Bertrand. While I know a few facts about Mozart, I know much more about you, and I’m in awe of you.” She deliberately closed her mouth and finally met Dr. Bertrand’s gaze.
She smiled and said, “Ms. Fenster, I appreciate your kind words, but you need to relax. Tell me how your performance preparation is coming.”
Mazie smiled back before apprising Dr. Bertrand of her progress. “Just last night I stood on the Bijou’s stage and sang for my friend Addy. I know it’s not the same as singing for a room of people, but it was a big step for me.”
Dr. Bertrand nodded and picked up a wooden sphere. She rolled it between her fingers while she processed Mazie’s announcement. “Indeed. And what are your next steps?”
Mazie outlined her plan to sing in front of a crowd, and Dr. Bertrand continued to nod. “Do you think there could be time for me to practice inside Gallagher Hall? So I’m prepared for the lights and how the stage feels…” She ran out of gas and hoped she hadn’t overstepped. Fortunately the professor seemed to mull the request.
“I can arrange that.” She reached for her special fountain pen and wrote herself a note. “Is there anything else I can do to support you?”
The question took Mazie aback. “Oh, no, Dr. Bertrand. I believe this is all on me. I have to work through it myself.”
Dr. Bertrand actually grinned and chuckled. Mazie blinked, unsure of how to react. Dr. B must have seen Mazie’s confusion, for she added, “It’s refreshing to have a student accept full responsibility for her actions and her program of study. This younger generation, the Millenials, has a distinct portion of entitled brats. Many of them are quite talented, but I fear their monstrous egos and poor work ethic will land them in a polyester uniform asking customers if they’d like fries with their order.” She paused and leaned forward. “I appreciate you May Fenster.” She slapped her desk and stood. “Let’s take a walk.”
Mazie stumbled to her feet and reached for her bag. “Okay. Where to?”
“You want to see Gallagher Hall? You’re gonna see it.”
Mazie walked double-time next to Dr. Bertrand, who, in addition to her musical accomplishments, apparently boasted several marathon-walking trophies. They zipped across Cammon Commons as Dr. Bertrand lobbed personal questions about M
azie’s relationship with their mutual friend, Maestro Larkin, her childhood on the East Coast, and how she knew she wanted to be a singer. Between deep gulps of air, which were necessary to keep up with Dr. Bertrand, Mazie shared her life story, still somewhat shocked that she was in the presence of a noted musical scholar.
“So your parents weren’t supportive of you pursuing your musical talent?”
“Oh, they were, but they were pragmatists. They didn’t push me to get married, but they pounded the notion that I needed a career to make my own money.”
They walked further until Dr. Bertrand asked, “What do they think now?”
Mazie swallowed the lump in her throat. “They’re both gone. My dad died in 2010, and my mom died in 2012.”
“Any siblings?”
“No. Just me.”
When they reached the enormous front doors of Gallagher Hall, Dr. Bertrand extracted a thick bunch of keys from her purse. “I know it’s one of these,” she murmured.
“Wow, you have your own key. That’s cool.”
“Oh yes. As much money as I raised for this place, and considering all the asses I had to kiss to get that money, yes, I get my own key.” She pulled a shiny silver one from the bunch. “Found it.”
They entered the vast lobby that smelled like new carpet and Mazie automatically looked down at the tasteful red and blue swirls. Marble-topped benches lined the perimeter of the space, and a large bar sat in a corner.
Dr. Bertrand wasted no time and charged toward one of the interior doors. She flung it open and marched across the nearest aisle. Mazie stepped inside and halted. She wanted to take it all in. The hundreds of red seats, the enormous sconces that hung like icicles at each entrance, the wide lighting booth that hovered over everything—and the stage. The shiny black floor glistened under the work lights. Stagehands scampered back and forth, carrying lumber, electrical cables, and lights. A few threw a glance toward Mazie and Dr. Bertrand, but they didn’t stop and question them. Mazie guessed a few might know the professor, or they assumed anyone who could get through the front door was someone important.
