Night of the Ballet
Pt 2/2
The moment after their goodbyes, when Andy started guiding Sharon out of the theater, she let out a barely there titter. It reminded him of intermission and her odd laughs, for apparently no reason.
"What did you laugh about earlier? At intermission?" Andy leaned closer to ask. Steering her gently closer to direct her through the crowd, Andy moved his hand from between her shoulder blades to rest on her upper arm.
"You didn't see the looks?" Sharon asked with a definite look of her own.
"What looks?"
"The ones your family pinned to your arm. Probably are doing so right now behind our backs." He frowned. "Well you had to know they were there."
"Why would they watch my arm?"
"Because it was resting on my back almost the whole time. Your kids clearly didn't know what to think, but be glad your ex-wife didn't find anything sharp lying around. I have never seen anyone stare at someone's arm that much!" she added with a small chuckle.
"I had no clue."
Apparently he has none right now either, Sharon thought with some wryness.
"You have good instincts," she said patting the hand resting on her arm. His scowl kept the rare form, so she reiterated her point, "Your ex-wife. A hand on my back, a protective gesture? And this is even more so, practically an embrace."
Andy's eyes flicked from hers to the hand he was 'embracing' her with. He let go, embarrassedly looking away and distancing a few inches worth. A muffled 'sorry' made her laugh.
"You really did say something to make them think we were together. Well, more together."
Reaching the car, he turned to face her. "Sharon," he said really meaning it, "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. This is quite entertaining." Her smile was, if not truly wide, at least unrestrained as she deleted the distance he had tried to create. Conspiratorially she leaned even closer, rested her hand on his arm and admitted, "I might have an odd sense of humor."
It was an odd thing to say. The whole evening had been odd. Her reactions were odd. Andy couldn't formulate a proper answer, so he let the admission slide and opened the door for her.
Circling the car to the driver's side, he swiftly checked the surroundings. People coming and going, getting into their cars and driving off, others coming to collect spouses, kids, total strangers. He saw Nicole putting sports bags full of dancing gear into the booth of their car almost all the way across the lot. She saw him and they exchanged weak waves.
Getting in his seat, he saw Sharon tilting her head quizzically. Saying only his daughter's name got a reply of a smile and a nod.
He liked that. Very much.
"They liked you. Very much," he said out loud driving off.
"Of course, what's not to like?"
"Yeah."
Sharon was dismayed at the somber reactions all her efforts at joking warranted. Her eyes drifted to Andy's knuckles gripping the wheel.
"Relax, Andy. It's done now. Yeah, it might not have gone according to all the social etiquettes, but the mistake is done, now you need to focus on moving forward. You might have lied about one thing, but..." That gave her pause. Was there really any reason for her to believe this was the only thing Andy lied about? "At least you told me," she concluded more firmly than she felt. "Maybe I will make you pay, maybe not." Seeing the deer in the headlights look Andy shot her way reminded her of obviously misjudging his appreciation of the funny. On some level it annoyed her. "Oh come on, lighten up!"
"Sharon, if you don't mind me saying, but you don't strike me as a person who is okay with lies."
"I'm not."
"So, would you please excuse me if this whole things sounds scary. Weird."
It was, wasn't it? Essentially playing someone's girlfriend at her age was weird. Having no serious qualms about it was even weirder. Weirdest of all was the fact that she had no ironclad explanations, no grand excuses, for doing it. Nor had she a firm understanding of what doing all of this entailed. No knowledge of a further plan. Bottom line? She wanted to do whatever it was.
"The one thing you need to know about me," she slowly started to reason, "is that I always want things to work out for deserving people. If, like in this case, it requires, pushes, you to let out a white lie, I'll take it. I myself am not above some subterfuge if it serves a greater good, as you very well know."
"Yeah. Still."
His eyes barely even flicked to her direction. For even less than a person driving a car could reasonably afford.
Sharon wanted to sigh.
"Andy, what is the amount we are really lying here? You yourself said we are seeing each other, five days a week, albeit not socially. We are friends, of opposite sexes. We do enjoy being together. We talk. We share interests, even friends. The only two things, as far as I can pinpoint, between their perception and the reality is that, one, we are really friends and not just too lazy to name the relationship, and two, we are not sleeping together nor do we share any other types of physical intimacy.
"In other words," she continued her analysis, "if you want to see it, we have the look of an item, but we both know that at the end of the day we are not. I am married, you have your own life. I don't even know if you do have a girlfriend! Or whatever you call them. If you do girlfriends in the first place. Or if —" Realizing she sounded more disrespectful by the word, Sharon fought the urge for embarrassed giggles by glancing out of the side window, letting her hair cascade forward to hide her face. "Okay, I'll stop now, I'm already in a hole deep enough. I'm sorry."
For the first time, Andy actually laughed. He waited for her to face forward again, before replying, "No need. No, I don't have girlfriends other than you." He glanced at her and she reprised the embarrassed maneuver. It made him smirk harder before focusing on the rest of the reply, "'Girlfriend' is fine for a hypothetical person. No, I don't do them. Or more like, they don't do me. Flings and girlfriends are very different things. Last girlfriend I had... Well, let's say years ago and leave it at that."
Seeing Sharon's hard confidence crumble for the first time since the start of the evening was very liberating for Andy. It made him reckless, ready to even tease her a little.
"What about your last boyfriend?"
Surprisingly she answered with a serious stare.
"Fake or real?"
"You've had other fake boyfriends?"
"Oh, plenty." Her gaze didn't waver, not even when it turned playful and her tone softened. "So stick with me, I'm well experienced."
"I'm sure." Andy tried for an unimpressed smirk, but suspected, by the devilish widening of her smile, he might have failed with the 'un'. "So?"
"Fake, Dave Hamilton. High school, Senior year. Pretended to be his girlfriend so we could make out and get a friend of mine jealous."
"Did it work?"
"Yeah. They've been married since college."
"Real?"
"You need to ask a married woman that?"
He almost said yes, seeing that the said woman was long separated, but didn't want to show any disrespect, so kept his suspicions to himself.
"Fair point."
They both were happy with the companionable silence taking over. Without question Andy drove the car all the way to guest parking and when he turned the engine off, he finally noticed Sharon staring at him with an oddly studious look.
He waited.
Probably two minutes later, she laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"This. Us. You did a great job avoiding that word by the way. Are we insane?"
Andy's lips quirked up with amusement at her thinking. She asks that now, after hours in to doing whatever they were doing?
"Yeah. You especially."
She didn't laugh at his levity, but neither was she looking offended. Instead, she reverted to more studying.
"How will this end?" she asked seriously.
"Don't ask me."
Andy was sure he was in for another long seconds of studying, but a muffled slam of a car door woke up the situation.
"Well, tonight ends here," Sharon said gathering her things. "Thank you, the ballet was lovely."
"Wait up, I'll walk you to your door."
She paused long enough to ask, "This is not a date, remember?" She bit off the quip of there being no fond goodbyes at the door. That kind of joking was still a bridge too far in his current state.
"How do you know I don't walk Provenza to his door after a game?"
"You probably do, if he's drunk enough. I'm fine," Sharon affirmed quickly getting out of the car before he could get up. "Thank you, Andy, I'll see you at work."
