Do-Overs (18 page)

-44-

“All The World’s A Stage”

There I sat in the darkened theater between Rachel and Olivia surrounded by the K’s. It was finally opening night and there was my amazing boyfriend wowing the audience as he made hot, steamy, PRETEND romance with that Tonkinese girl. It was much easier for me to handle it since I’d been tutored by Al in Acting 101. And if I always thought of her as that Tonkinese girl, rather than long legged Taylor. Yes, handle it I could do, actually like it was still a work in progress.

The play was a huge success with a packed out audience. Even the president of the college had been there with some major bigwig donors. They must have been pretty important as they were ushered in at the last moment to the best seats in the house and then left right after the curtain call, via the stage. And yes, I did cry when Lt. Cable died. And I illogically rejoiced when Al came to take his curtain call—proof that it was just fantasy.

Al and I had barely seen each other the past two weeks. We’d been able to cram in two lunches, a run to QuikTrip for a slushy and coffee, and about one hundred and forty-seven text messages.

Tonight was going to be different. I was to wait for him after the show and we were going to do a very late dinner.

The crowd was thinning. A few parents and friends of the actors were waiting like me to congratulate their stars. I realized that I too was beaming like a proud mother as I waited for my own little thespian. It took around thirty minutes before Al appeared at my side.

“You were wonderful,” I said as I gave him a big congratulatory hug. Ummm he felt good.

“Are you sure? I blew that one line really badly. And I was flat once.” Al, the super confident actor on stage, seemed like a little boy needing approval.

“Trust me. You were fantastic. Give me the next five hours just to tell you how magnificent you were.”

An uneasy look came across Al’s face. The kind of look that always made my heart knot up and my brain race with visions that I was about to be dumped. “Lottie, well, I’m so sorry. I have to cancel. There’s this really important donor here tonight. And well, the president wants me to go out to dinner with them. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was coming. He hadn’t told me—I mean the president didn’t let me know in advance.”

I put on my best poker face. If he had to ditch me for Mr. Mega-Donate-The-Bucks I wouldn’t make him feel bad.

“Oh, Lottie. I’ve hurt your feelings. Believe me, I’m truly sorry. If he hadn’t come so far, I’d demand another night. But he just flew in for tonight.”

So much for my acting skills. “I’m fine,” I lied. “We’ll get together soon. You have my number. I’m sure you need to get going. You don’t want to make them wait. And I really do need to be working on my Lit. paper. I shouldn’t have put it off for so long. I’ve got to go.”

Al wasn’t letting me go. He held my arm and drew me close. “Can we do lunch, tomorrow? It’s Saturday. I’m free ‘til backstage call at five.”

I didn’t respond.

“Please.”

I nodded my head not trusting my voice. Then Al Dansby pulled me close and kissed me like that Tonkinese girl just wished he would have kissed her.

-45-

Loose Lips Sink FriendShips

“Hey, remember us? We’re those friends you used to hang out with before Mr. Dansby came riding in on his fine white steed—or should I say his little, red car,” teased Stina.

“You’ll have me all to yourself starting tomorrow,” I reminded her. My family always planned an annual spring break ski vacation. With all our activities and crazy schedules we were never able to find a week in the summer for a family vacation, so my mother had decreed over ten years before, that spring break was family week and no excuse other than death or Jason getting drafted to the pros would be accepted. That year I was taking Stina along. With my super jock family all doing the black slopes, I usually spent most of my skiing time alone on the bunny slopes. It had actually been my mother’s idea for me to bring a friend. I think she had hoped I’d bring a guy. But I’d asked Stina before I knew Al well enough to invite him along with my family. In fact I still wasn’t sure I was secure enough to spend an entire week with him around the Double J’s. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy I was interested in had suddenly jumped ship and asked out one of my sisters. I don’t even want to think about the dope who had asked them both out. Kinky weirdo.

“Sorry I haven’t been around much lately. Once the play was finally over, Al and I seemed to be making up for lost time.” I gave a heavy sigh. Life was good.

Stina gave a heavy sigh too. I wasn’t sure if she was mocking me or simply enjoying the blissful aura that surrounded me.

“Are you all packed?” I asked. “I’ll be ready to go by three tomorrow.”

“Ready and willing. I’ve never skied before. This should be fun. But I hope I don’t slow you down.”

I gave a laugh. “Never worry. I’m the world’s worst. After ten ski vacations, I still never venture off the green slopes—those are the easy ones. The blues are harder and don’t even ask about the blacks. Major bad.”

“We’ll just be snow bunnies on the baby slopes and have a blast.”

I sighed again. I knew I was being ridiculous. I could live a week—well actually ten days due to weekends and us leaving after class the next day. But, I could make it ten days without Al Dansby. I was a modern woman. I was independent.

I was missing him already.

“So what is Mr. Wonderful doing for the break?” Olivia asked, entering the room through the shared bathroom. She added a Post It note to the poster hanging on our bathroom door. It was a detailed chart of the LSPS’s life. His schedule, his preferences, his friends. It looked stalkerish to say the least. The General was still planning our strategy. After spring break he was going down. Parts of the plan were starting to worry me. Maybe we were going too far? But then again, nothing illegal was being planned. And maybe, actually no maybe about it, telling a girl lies, and getting a girl pregnant was going too far also and deserved whatever punishment the General had devised.

Hopefully a week apart would help get things in perspective for everyone.

“Al said he was hanging out with his dad for the week. It’s so strange. He’s so open and sharing and we talk and talk and talk. Yet, when we’re through I realize he never really tells me actual details about his life in California or his dad.”

“Maybe they have issues,” suggested Rachel who entered behind Olivia.

“I don’t think so. He always talks with admiration of him, not like he’s some evil step-father,” I said and unintentionally looked straight at Olivia. Why did I keep doing that? I had undone our conversation about her step-dad just so that she wouldn’t see me giving her those pitying looks, but I did it anyway.

Olivia looked at me then at Rachel. “Crap, I forgot. I have a thingy. You know a meeting thingy. I’ve got to go,” she said a little flustered. It must have been an important meeting. Or more likely, a very cute guy.

Stina was quickly asking Rachel for more details on her break plans. Being so focused on my own self the past two months, I hadn’t noticed the gradual relationship building between Rachel and Trevor. (Trevor of the Christmas dance with the asinine brother—my ill-fated date.)

“I still can’t believe he invited me to spend the week at his house,” Rachel was gushing. Our calm, cool, analytical Rachel was gushing about a guy. “I’ve liked him since freshman year. But, he always treated me like a buddy. Just one of the gang. But ever since the Christmas dance. Oooo momma.”

Yes, definitely some people had much pleasanter memories of that function than I.

“You’ll have a blast. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t come back engaged,” Stina bubbled.

“I don’t think we’re to the engagement step yet. But I sure do feel like I’m there for his mom’s evaluation. Very nerve wracking.”

I sighed again. I had to stop doing that. “You’ll pass with flying colors. But if I don’t get this essay done and turned in tomorrow I won’t. Off to the library. Got to work ladies.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to write here, without the distractions?” teased Stina.

“Yes,” I confessed. “But I told the distraction I’d meet him there five minutes ago.” And with that I was out the door.

-46-

Distractions

A table full of books and copies topped with a coffee cup. That is how I found Al Dansby in the library.

“Isn’t it against the rules to have drinks in here?” I asked as I sat down by him and he leaned over to give me a sweet kiss on the cheek.

Al gave me his mischievous smile and said, “It pays to have connections.” I looked over to see the barrister guy from last semester working the reference desk. Poor guy. I wondered if he had caught on yet that Al definitely was not batting for his team.

Looking over the mountain of books I asked the obvious, “Do you have a little homework?”

Al gave a heavy sigh. It seemed to be going around. “It happens every time I’m in a play. The show takes every waking second of my time and I get so behind. I’ve even learned to take a lighter schedule. I should have graduated this May, but instead I won’t until next December.” My heart gave a happy beat on that note. That would give us more time together. Then I was a little frightened. College didn’t last forever. Was this just a college romance or was there a future here? I was about to have an anxiety attack over a ten-day separation. What would I do if it became permanent? I had to get a grip.

Al gestured to the stack. “Now I have two papers and an essay due on Friday before I can leave. Perhaps it’s a good thing that you’re leaving tomorrow. It’ll cut down on my distractions.” Then he looked into my face. “No, not a good thing. Then I’ll simply be missing you instead.”

I started to get out my laptop and get to work. Suddenly there was a present on my bag. Not a romantic little blue Tiffany’s box, but a big two-foot square box, wrapped in the Sunday funny paper.

“I got you a little spring break gift,” Al said.

Since when was spring break a gift-giving holiday? Was there a Hallmark card for it? “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything.”

He chuckled. “It’s nothing fabulous. Open it. I thought with you going skiing and well, and after the head/stage incident, well, um perhaps you needed this.” He seemed almost afraid of offending me with the gift. His trepidation made me leery.

I opened the box relieved only to see a hot pink ski helmet. “Thanks. That’s really sweet.”

“Promise you’ll wear it. I’m not saying you’re clumsy. In fact other than the one trip to the ER I’ve never seen you even stumble.”

There it was again. Every time I had ever done any klutzy thing in front of Al I had in fact redone it. In his eyes I should have appeared a graceful swan, yet somewhere in his subconscious he knew that I was a klutz to the point he was worried about my safety.

“It’s wonderful. And pink is my favorite color.” Or it would be from that moment on because it would always remind me that Al cared enough to worry about me crashing into trees.

That got me a full smile. “I know that you’ve skied for years and years. But they are all the fashion rage.” He laughed and then turned serious. “It’s just very important to me that you survive the vacation.”

“Thank you. I love it. When I wear it I’ll think of you.” No need to point out to him that I was always thinking about him anyway. “Now let’s tackle those papers.”

I tried to focus on my paper, but, I kept looking at the pink helmet and what it signified. What did it signify? We were going to be separated and Al worried about my safety when we were apart. Then my brain jumped back to the earlier part of our conversation. Next December, after he graduated, would we be permanently separated? Would he still care by then? Or would he break my heart? We were able to get all of five minutes worth of work done before I was interrupting again. “What is your plan?” I asked.

“First, I’m going to get the essay done as it’s the easiest. Then...”

I interrupted him. “No, not for tonight. I meant for you. After college.”

“Well, it’s probably pretty obvious—I plan to work in theater. Hopefully Broadway. I thought about the movie industry. But I really like the thrill of a live audience. The amazing energy of a live cast. A camera is never the same as real people. Then again a camera doesn’t boo, or get up and walk out during the show.” Al gave a little self-conscience laugh on that. “And you, Lottie Lambert, English major. What do you plan to do?”

What was I thinking? Why had I brought this up? I wasn’t ready to share my dreams. I started to dig in my bag for my little friend. Time to redo a little. I now knew his answer and I could just do-over this conversation and I wouldn’t have to answer his question.

I was stopped short by Al reaching for my hand. “Why do you do that? Whenever I ask you something important, you always seem to start searching in your purse. Do you keep all the answers to your life in there? Can I look?” he teased.

“Nervous habit I guess,” I lied.

“Lottie, you don’t ever need to be nervous with me.”

His smile was so sincere. Maybe this truly was the person that I could trust with my fragile dreams. But, I kept my hand around the eraser in case I needed a speedy retreat.

“A writer,” was all I said.

“Books or tabloids,” he asked a little uncertain.

“Books of course.” I had to giggle. “Does anyone really set out to write for tabloids?”

Al seemed unnecessarily relieved. “So, what have you written?”

“Nothing lately,” I mumbled.

His green eyes looked very confused. “I thought writers were always working on that latest, greatest novel.”

Perhaps it was finally time to have an in depth discussion concerning my total insecurities about my writing abilities that were manifested by my ex-professor’s devastatingly critical analysis of my literary works.

Al shrugged his shoulders and smiled at my perplexed face. “Then again with all your school work I guess there’s not much time.”

Then again, maybe we could talk about it at a later date.

“I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from getting your work done,” I apologized, glad to change the subject.

“True. So help me. I have to find some way to write an essay over a book I haven’t read yet.”

For the next hour I told Al the story of Upton Sinclair’s
The Jungle
and helped him write his essay. Both of us vowed to never eat hot dogs again when we were through.

“Lottie, thanks for getting me through that book. Now, I’d like to show you one of my favorite books ever written. Follow me.” Al took my hand and led me down two rows of books and then back another. My curiosity was piqued. What book could be so special that he had to personally show it to me? We ended up on the very back of the stacks.

I looked at the books on the shelf. We were in the old German literature section. I turned to look at Al. My eyes connected with his and realization slowly dawned. One really shouldn’t make out in the library stacks. Just saying. But well, sometimes in life you just have to have connections.