XXVIII. King of Wishful Thinking
I don't need to fall at your feet I'll get over you.. I know I will I refuse to give in to my blues I'll get over you.. I know I will I will never, never shed a tear for you If I don't listen to the talk of the town I'll get over you.. I know I will
Just 'cause you cut me to the bone
And I won't miss the way that you kiss me
We were never carved in stone
If I don't listen to the talk of the town
Then maybe I can fool myself..
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking
I am the king of wishful thinking
That's not how it's going to be
And I deny the tears in my eyes
I don't want to let you see.. no
That you have made a hole in my heart
And now I've got to fool myself..
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking..
I'll get over you.. I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking
I'll get over you
Then maybe I can fool myself..
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking
I'm the king of wishful thinking
I'll get over you.. I know I will
You made a hole in my heart
But I won't shed a tear for youI'll be the king of wishful thinking
I'll get over you..
I'll pretend my heart's still beating
'cause I've got no more tears for you
I'm the king of wishful thinking..
I'll get over you.. I know I will
You made a hole in my heart
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking
King of Wishful Thinking is the property of Go West and appears in the film Pretty Woman.
Spinner rights his surfboard as the waves unfurl on the muddy shore. Beside him is an open container of polish, two towels, and a bag of chips. His grandmother made a joke about what he was carrying, "all that and a bag of chips". Yeah, outdated slang is not too funny. He and Jimmy could crack better jokes in their sleep.
He called Jimmy the other day, currently chilling with Hazel back in Canada. Their Caribbean vacation sounded amazing, with the bigger beaches, fancy cruise liner, and expensive food. That said, he believes he's having the better time...once you factor in the time spent with Emma. Then, there was the kiss. She kissed him, just to make the clear. She kissed him. Spinner popped his collar, proudly, to no one in particular, since Boomer was out in the water. But really, he shouldn't be so confident. A kiss actually has to go somewhere, and he'd bet that most people wouldn't see him and Emma, of all people, going far.
Sighing, Spinner begins to polish his board, staring at Boomer as he trudges to his blanket. Boomer was a decent guy. It turns out he listened to Kendra, kept up with her likes and dislikes, like actually paid attention. Spinner can't lie and say he's never tuned out his sister; it sort of ran with the sibling territory. Well, he was always there for the big stuff in Kendra's life, and Boomer couldn't claim that was the case with him. His fellow surfer shakes his wet, shaggy hair, collapses on the cloth.
"Man, I'm going to be killing that pipeline in Santa Monica," says Boomer, happily. "Thanks for the lead, Spin."
The lead was a result of Spinner seeking info from the surf shop owner, wanting to be back in the same area as Kendra, and well, Emma, too. Toby hasn't been doing much in the way of convincing her to come home. So it's time for him to give it a go, using Boomer's participation in an amateur surfing competition as the excuse. If that didn't work, he'd have to call his parents.
"It'll be cake for you," agrees Spinner.
"You should surf, too...you've got awesome torque skills," compliments Boomer.
"What I need is some awesome convincing skills," insists Spinner.
"Ohhhh," teases Boomer. "In the ladies department? Dude, ride a wave. Get Blondie faintin'."
Spinner chuckles. "Was talking about Kendra coming home. Anyways, Emma isn't into being impressed physically."
"Hmmm...what's wrong with her?" asks Boomer.
They both laugh, Spinner kicking a small bit of sand in Boomer's direction. Thankfully, the directions to Santa Monica are just as easy. They'd be leaving shortly, with Boomer wanting to get in one last practice. Now would be a good time to call Kendra and try to arrange a meeting.
"There are other ways you can impress her physically," says Boomer, winking.
"I'm on the phone," silences Spinner, grinning despite himself.
After a couple rings, a familiar voice answers, though it's not Kendra. What is Emma doing answering Kendra's cell?
"Emma?" cries Spinner.
A tense pause is her reply, though it thaws after a few crashes from the ocean.
"Umm...hi," she says.
"Where's Kendra?" he asks. "She okay?"
"Yeah, she's fine. She's in the shower."
"Why are you at Toby's so early?"
"We're not," replies Emma, sharply. "She...she stayed with us last night. At Lia's, with me and Manny."
"What?" shouts Spinner, startling Boomer.
"Look...don't ask for information, because I'm as clueless as you are."
Why was Kendra jumping around California so much? He thought things were going alright at Toby's. Not perfect, but alright. Also, what's with the iciness in Emma's tone? They were on good...no, great terms when he said good-bye to her the night at the pier.
"Okay?" says Spinner. "Anyways, are you guys doing anything today? Was hoping to talk to Kendra."
"Well, I did promise to take Hannah to La Brea before the play," shares Emma.
"Awesome! Kendra can maybe tag along?" says Spinner.
"Um...yeah...yeah, I'll see and call you back," agrees Emma, more distracted than cold this time.
Before Spinner is able to utter another word, he hears the dial tone. Boomer raises his eyebrows, anxious for any clues. There's no way he's telling him that he got hung up on so he shrugs.
"Gotta miss the contest, man," apologizes Spinner. "Know where La Brea is?"
"That's an educational place," says Boomer, grimacing.
"For real?" sighs Spinner.
"Like fossils and stuff. Went on a class field trip there," explains Boomer. "How about blowing it off, coming with me?"
"Nah," says Spinner.
Boomer frowns, starts to collect his things. Surfing did sound fun, compared to a sister who wouldn't tell him anything and a girl he's into that is mad with him for some mysterious reason. Man, sometimes girls are more unpredictable than riding the waves.
II.
Mixed smells of oil, rubber, and wood filled the garage, almost suffocating Sean. He used to love those smells, prefer them to the weird, chemical scents from the Degrassi science labs, or the nice and not so nice body odors in the school halls. Plus, Mr. Hill never changed a thing. If you needed to know where a lug nut or a screwdriver was, it was always where it was supposed to be. Everything was ordered, checked, rechecked by Mr. Hill himself. He ran a tight ship, and Sean looking around now, wishes he were on it.
It was still early in the morning, the Kerwin-Isaacs' clan a ten minute drive away. The check rested safely in his pocket. The stolen spindle lay sinisterly in his trunk. During the drive, he heard the spindle rattle for a few minutes, and then nothing. It almost felt like it was in the other person's car after that.
There were only two cars in the garage. One was a rusty, cream-colored sedan, the hood popped up, and the other was a newer, blue Toyota Camry with a dent in the windshield. Tracker was the guy who taught him all about windshields– installation, repair, suitable charges. Wow, he must've been working on cars or motorcycles since Ty's age? Actually, a year or so before. He never did anything shifty when he started. Never.
Sean releases a deep breath, walks into the open garage. Usually, Mr. Hill was alone at this hour during the summer. A supply truck came with deliveries and Mr. Hill jovially greeted them, asked the suppliers how their wives and kids were getting along. It was very different from Dale, packing heat, and Sean and Ty meeting their suppliers at the docks. Sean wagered this was the best time to catch him since his mood was good.
Mr. Hill is visible behind the glass partition, pacing and reading a list. Probably the inventory. Sean rolls his eyes. Half of him hates how he knows this place so well after being fired for something Dale did. The other half wishes he was working on that Camry. Sean walks closer to the window. Mr. Hill looks up, nearly drops his list. Sean throws a glance at the Camry, then returns the look.
Without a word, he raises the check for Mr. Hill to see. He's here to do business. Reminiscing isn't going to get him out of here sooner.
"Sean!" calls Mr. Hill, opening the door to his office.
"Hey," replies Sean.
Mr. Hill indicates that he should come inside. When he was working there, it seemed like such a big deal at first to be in there. Sean felt awkward the first several times, but then it became easier. Walking in, Sean notices a mound of paperwork on the table, neatly distributed in different piles. Near the right was a picture of Dale, in cap and gown, holding his diploma with Mr. Hill smiling with pride. Best of all, Sean spots his last paycheck, laying there as if it has been there for weeks. That was probably the case.
Sean hovers before Mr. Hill asks him to have a seat. He does, the hard seat of the chair making his hips tingle. Mr. Hill had the far more comfortable chair, another bonus for owning the place. Although, Mr. Hill appears about as comfortable as Sean today. His cheeks are rosy, and he purses his lips across from Sean.
"So...uh, Russell's leaving," stammers Mr. Hill.
"Oh...oh," says Sean, putting his knees together.
"Yeah, got that sports scholarship at Montreal...training camp," continues Mr. Hill. "Gone 'til December. Down one worker."
Russell was one of Sean's older, former co-workers. Nobody could do a better paint job, thinks Sean. Except maybe me.
"Good for him," says Sean, retrieving Kate's check. "I've got the..."
"Thanks," says Mr. Hill, reaching for it.
As the check passes between hands, Sean can feel his wrist stiffening, his fingers run cold. His body is betraying him, basically telling him what his mind is telling him. Sean barely realizes when the check is gone. Mr. Hill nods appreciatively.
"That's all I came by for so...," says Sean.
"Wait...your final pay," interrupts Mr. Hill.
He finds it, presents it to Sean.
"Was hoping you'd come for it earlier," admits Mr. Hill. "Asked Jay to..."
"Yeah, got the message," informs Sean.
Mr. Hill stares momentarily at the picture of him and Dale, turns to Sean. Sean starts to slide out of his chair, not knowing if he should leave or not.
"Look, Sean...the hardest thing for a man to do is...admit when he's done wrong," says Mr. Hill, a firm crease in his brow.
"Um...I guess?" blanks Sean.
"It's just when they're your kid, your son...you automatically go into protective mode. You assume the other kid is the bad guy, when truth is...truth is, he was the best worker you ever had."
"Mr. Hill...," says Sean, starting to shake his head.
"I apologize," insists Mr. Hill. "Seen Dale work up the nerves too many a time. Hasn't been right since my wife left us. Was thinking you could be a good influence on him so I put you two together. Mistake on my part."
All his skin is growing hot. He's apologizing? That was the last thing Sean expected him to do. Maybe he underestimated Mr. Hill. Maybe he should come back. Maybe...no, there's no maybe to think about, thinks Sean. He already made a deal with the greater of two evils, and he didn't want to see Dale any more than he had to. Plus, it just wouldn't be the same after...
"Sean, I'd like to offer you your job back," says Mr. Hill. "Excellent, hard-working mechanics are hard to find. Jay's great and all, but you...you're a real pro."
He wasn't Russell, going off to some sports internship and returning to the garage in a blaze of glory. No, he was a guy returning from a stolen car parts gig in a fog of shame. If only Mr. Hill asked him sooner.
"I...I can't," says Sean, softly.
"Can only offer you a small increase in salary, but it's an increase, you know," insists Mr. Hill. "Mr. Ehl said he referred a few driver's ed students to you specifically."
Sean looks at the paycheck, the corner of his eyes stinging.
"I don't know what...," begins Sean.
"We both believe this is the best place for you," says Mr. Hill. "Is there another garage you're working..."
"No," replies Sean, quickly. "I mean...I just got...have things to do."
"Haven't I always made it a point to work around your schedules?" says Mr. Hill. "If..."
"I said I can't, alright?" exclaims Sean, standing.
Frowning deeply, Mr. Hill nods. Great. Be rude to a guy who basically respects you, always has on some level. Sean runs a hand through his hair.
"Sorry, Mr. Hill," says Sean, backing away. "I'm...I'm not..."
"You're in trouble?" asks Mr. Hill, making his way to Sean.
Sean immediately wrests open the door, walks in a hurry to the cool morning.
"Sean!" yells Mr. Hill after him.
The shout is faint by the distance Sean has made between them, rushing in and out of his ears like a warm whisper.
III.
"Now I know why Mom never took me to museums as a kid," moans Emma, reaching high for what has to be the millionth time.
Hannah scrambles against the fence, digging her small pink tennis shoes into its holes. She weighed a fair amount for a seven-year old. Emma manages to get hold of her waist and set her down on the safe pavement.
"I wanted to get closer to the tar!" laments Hannah.
"The tar is not meant to be closer to," says Emma. "Besides, you have to eat your lunch before we go inside."
"To see the saber-toothed tigers?" asks Hannah, making her hands into long, pretend teeth.
"And a few other things," says Emma.
She nods to the bench where they sit. Kendra, while there, had elected to go into the museum early. The taxi ride there was pretty tense, even though, strangely, they were both upset with Manny. Chances are that Kendra's sour in general, however. Obviously whatever was going on with Toby wasn't making either girl happy. Hannah is the best company she could ask for.
Too bad it's so tense because the La Brea Tar Pits is a beautiful setting. Well, to her it's beautiful. There's a natural, historical presence to the place. The museum is off-white, circular with a shadowy entrance, resembling a more modernized Pueblo home she saw in a documentary once. Several groups of children have gone in, while Hannah seemed more content in taking in the fake elephants planted in the tar.
Emma retrieves Hannah's lunchbox from her knapsack, then gives it to her. Hannah begins eating her sandwich as Emma puts a straw in her juicebox.
"The tar is dangerous," remarks Hannah.
"Really?" says Emma, lifting her eyebrows.
"Lia said the tar was like the River Styx, and that all creatures who are bad end up in it," explains Hannah.
"She has an overactive imagination," comments Emma.
"I guess so," says Hannah. "That's why I thought I should test it. I don't want any elephants to suffer."
Awww, just the thought of Hannah valiantly trying to save the fake animals makes her heart soften.
"Well, they won't," reassures Emma, handing her the juice.
Hannah polishes off her sandwich while Emma takes out some knitting.
"What's that?" asks Emma.
Emma stares at the red pair of socks she was knitting for Jack. She figured she could make him a couple of sets before school started.
"It's for my brother Jack," shares Emma.
"How many kids have you been a nanny for?" questions Hannah.
"Well, I baby-sat for Jack, and for my friend Craig's little sister, Angie," replies Emma.
"Were they good or bad?"
"Good and bad," laughs Emma.
"I'm the first blonde girl you've baby-sat for, right?" asks Hannah.
"Yep."
"Good. I like to be different," says Hannah, then slurping her juice.
Emma smiles to herself, her eyes wandering to a group of schoolchildren exiting the museum with a frazzled teacher in front. She's betting this is one of those bad days for the poor teacher, leaning against a wall as she counts the kids. Most of the children are carrying miniature fossil replicas, tinier than their arms. A red-haired boy separates from the group, makes whooshing noises as he makes his vulture fossil fly. He moves in a rush, makes a circle around Hannah and Emma as he goes. He lands it on their bench and grins.
"Hi," he says to Hannah.
Hannah grips Emma's arm protectively.
"Marty Fischer, if you don't get over here...," says the teacher, sternly.
"Do you go to Cavalier Elementary?" he asks.
Instead of replying, Hannah squishes Emma's arm tighter. Emma taps her to speak. No doing as Hannah looks away.
"She doesn't," says Emma.
"I like it," says Marty. "They got summer programs where you go places. They got games. They got..."
"They've got," corrects his teacher as she puts her hand over his mouth. "I swear, he's not a walking advertisement."
Blushing, the teacher pulls Marty to the rest of the group. Marty waves to Hannah before boarding the bus. Hannah gently takes her hand from Emma's arm.
"Hannah, it's rude not to speak," chastises Emma.
"He was a stranger," defends Hannah. "That's a rule you should follow."
"With me around, there was no reason to worry," says Emma. "Anyway, let's go to the museum...meet Kendra."
"Are there other kids in there?" asks Hannah, quietly.
"Yes," replies Emma.
"Then I don't want to," says Hannah, tears welling in her eyes.
She promised she'd meet Kendra in there, and that Spinner should go in there when he arrived. There was absolutely no guarantee that he'd be able to find her. He'd have to be looking to the far right.
"Kendra's expecting us," reminds Emma.
"She wasn't supposed to come, anyway," groans Hannah. "It was going to be me and you. I don't like her. She's moody."
"Hannah!" cries Emma.
"What?" says Hannah. "Lia said the same thing."
"Look, we're going to Kendra, and that's final," says Emma, standing and crossing her arms.
"Please," begs Hannah. "Don't make me."
"I'm not leaving you," says Emma.
"What if I try to climb the fence again?" asks Hannah.
"Hannah," sighs Emma, bending down. "I know you like to be alone, but it shouldn't keep you from doing things..."
"I do a lot of things," argues Hannah.
"Not like a regular person," says Emma, shaking her head.
She wishes her words could fall right back down into her throat, that they would've never been uttered. Hannah's lips start to tremble as Emma's heart shakes a bit.
"What...what would...I am regular!" shouts Hannah. "I'm regular in a different way. I am!"
Emma tries to touch her shoulder. "No, what I meant was..."
"There's no other meaning!" exclaims Hannah, running past her, her blonde pigtails bouncing on her small back.
"Hannah!" yells Emma.
Sure enough, Hannah heads right for the museum, Emma racing to it herself. Emma knows Hannah is completely right, that there is no other meaning. Her eyes are too blurry to locate Hannah. Her face is too hot from all the anger she feels towards herself. Why'd she say that? Why?
Emma hits her knees in frustration, wipes a couple tears.
"Emma?" says a voice behind her.
She wishes it were Hannah, but she turns to face Spinner, clothed in a navy blue shirt and cargo shorts. The Truth or Dare game seems like it was minutes ago. It's as if Manny is standing right next to him, and they're dating all over again. Somewhat glad that Spinner is a blur, Emma sniffles.
"The sight of prehistoric animals in black tar makes you emotional?" wagers Spinner.
Emma fans her face with her hand, tries to catch her breath. Meanwhile, Spinner hands her her knapsack, and her knitting.
"Degrassi button on the pocket," identifies Spinner, pointing to the button on her bag.
"Degrassi seems like paradise compared to here," breathes Emma.
"Uhhhh...yeah?" says Spinner in disbelief.
With clearer vision, Emma's able to finally see the room. It's quite a sight. The museum is a mix of archeological treasures, artwork, bones, and interactive exhibits. There's no wonder the kids looked so pleased when they left. It seems more fun than most of the museums she went to, and more kid friendly. Why couldn't she be friendly?
"Manny was right," cries Emma. "I say the most insensitive things sometimes!"
"What do you...," begins Spinner.
"To Hannah," explains Emma. "She's only seven, and I said something so horrible...and she's gone..."
The pressure in Emma's chest builds steadily, her breathing growing rapidly. There were tall, erected fossils set up in various corners, their brown bones glistening in the dark. An early age camel bent its head towards the floor. Stuffed antelopes stand behind medium-sized cases. That's how she feels– stuffed, trapped, tense. Emma makes a pathetic grab for the black railing separating visitors from a display of a mammoth skull.
"Emma...Em, calm down," whispers Spinner, touching her hand.
"Let me go!" she snaps, her voice echoing against every wall.
Spinner's mouth falls open, a whole group of students and their teachers staring at them with shock. She had no idea her voice would be that loud, and she definitely didn't want what she said to come out so badly.
"Need some water, dear?" asks a woman to her left.
Emma nods, dumbfounded. Apparently ignoring her command not to touch her, Spinner helps her to a chair near a rock exhibit. She's glad to be held, doesn't resist. Spinner thanks the woman as he takes the cup. Emma's heart starts to slow down after one gulp of water. People were still gawking at her, though they were slightly starting to move on with touring the museum. She feels like such a freak.
"Can you talk?" says Spinner.
Emma gasps for a few seconds, her pulse returning to normal.
"I think so," says Emma. "Yes."
"More water?"
"No...I just felt smothered for a minute," explains Emma. "So embarrassed."
"Need a doctor or something?" says Spinner.
"It's over," reassures Emma, clasping her hands together. "I was upset...it's passed."
"Emma, I'm not sure...you looked pretty out of it."
She felt out of it, but she wasn't about to let anyone get concerned for her, especially with Hannah missing. Emma stands, tries to get by Spinner.
"What's going on with you?" asks Spinner, blocking her.
"Nothing!" replies Emma. "Lately when I'm stressed, I get these weird...sensations?"
"Sensations?"
"Like I'm sinking or being crushed or...overwhelmed with emotion, that's all it is. It goes away on its own."
Emma attempts to move, but is halted by Spinner again.
"That doesn't sound good," says Spinner. "It...it was scary to watch that."
"This isn't the paleolithic era, Spin," assures Emma. "Not actually sinking or in danger. They're quick little moments."
"When was the last moment you couldn't breathe?" inquires Spinner.
"I don't know. When...when Snake came to Craig's party," brushes off Emma.
Emma is successful this time, effectively dodging Spinner and heading to where she thinks the saber-toothed tigers might be. It's sweet of Spinner to be concerned. There are more important things, though. If she lost Hannah, she'd never forgive herself, and neither would Kel Andrews. She spies Spinner in her peripheral vision.
Glancing back at him, she accidentally bumps into a couple students following their teacher to the exit. The teacher smiles in front of the long line of kids, who had to be Hannah's age. Emma stares at the kind teacher's face, shivers. Her forehead is throbbing. She can't let Spinner see because he'd hit her with more annoying questions.
"Emma?" says Spinner.
"Go away, Gavin," says Emma, hoping that by using his name he'd get agitated.
"At least let me help find..."
"I can do it myself!" barks Emma. "I'm fine!"
"You're not fine," argues Spinner, gently.
"You are getting on my last nerve!" exclaims Emma.
"I wish you'd let me in for once!" says Spinner. "Then at least I'd have a clue."
"I wish I never kissed you!" returns Emma.
She doesn't mean that, but it's the one thing Spinner believed. He walks ahead of her to a darkened passageway, the sole room Emma hasn't entered. The sight of his shrinking figure makes her eyes wet. At least she's able to breathe, although she's not sure she wants to do it.
Emma collects herself. There must be a security office somewhere near the front. She told Hannah that it was the place she should go if they were ever separated. Making her way to the entrance, she spies a familiar crown of blonde hair, Hannah awkwardly playing with her shoelace as she leans against the rocky wall.
"Hannah, I'm sorry," says Emma, leaning with her.
"Lia says mean stuff to me...I'm used to that. I'm not used to it with you," says Hannah, starting to undo one of her pigtails.
"I know and I shouldn't have said it," says Emma. "Been doing that a lot lately."
"Oh," murmurs Hannah.
"I love that you're regular in a different way," compliments Emma. "I think we could all be a little more individual."
Hannah stares at her with a small grin.
"Well, you look sad enough for me to forgive you," decides Hannah.
Emma gets on her knees, pavement hurting her skin, but it's worth the first full, true hug they shared. Hannah doesn't pull away, lets her own blonde hair touch Emma's.
"Thanks," says Emma.
"If you ever get tired of being a nanny, you should be a teacher," says Hannah. "The kids would like you."
Her head ceases to throb, a distorted image of a red-haired man lecturing in front of a bunch of computers entering her mind. The other students are just as hard to see, even a black dot she thinks could be Manny. A bell rings, and she can spot herself clearly. Clearly. She's the only one in the classroom. They've all left. Furthermore, the classroom is replaced by Kendra and Spinner coming toward them, museum in the foreground.
"Spinner!" calls Emma.
Spinner pretends to ignore them, Kendra shrugging and following him to what she guesses is Boomer's car.
"Would you like to teach, Emma?" says Hannah.
Emma bites her lip. "Not when I've got a lot to learn."
IV.
"Ahem," says J.T., clearing his throat.
"Oh boy," mutters Toby.
J.T. grandly lifts the eight by eleven frame, a carefully penned letter behind the glass. If Toby has to see this letter one more time, he'll scream.
"No more," he pleads.
"I'll read it to you then," says J.T., elbowing Toby. "Dear J.T., you must be having a sublime excursion in Los Angeles. I've crafted a collage from the assemblage of your thoughtful, informative postcards. I particularly enjoyed the one of the Kodak Theater. Did you know the seating capacity is near three thousand? Maybe we'll see Manny accept her Oscar there one day. Needless to say, our house is fairly quiet during the day, but I am managing to cover all bases regarding Student Council, the newspaper, and preparation for the Academic Decathalon. Toby and Emma may rest easy. Of course, I expect them to be productive come September. Have fun on the rest of your vacation. Your friend, Liberty."
Toby opens the door of the Majestic Theater for himself and J.T., entering a large group of theatergoers ready to view the last production of The Tempest. J.T. stares at him eagerly. It's difficult to hold the door due to what he's holding.
"What...you didn't catch it?" asks J.T.
"Liberty's love for five-dollar words?" guesses Toby.
"No!" protests J.T. "Friend...friend?"
"Yeah, after more than five years, I'd say we're friends, J.T.," says Toby.
"No, Liberty put the word friend in quotation marks," explains J.T. "It's a subtle, grammatical hint. Like...like we could be more."
"I smell what you're stepping in," says Toby.
J.T. wrinkles his forehead in confusion.
"Sorry, Manny taught me that...I always liked it," confesses Toby. "That's good, though. What are you going to do?"
"Make my move as soon as we get home," shares J.T. "Ask her out...with only the two of us."
"When Danny isn't around," reminds Toby, chuckling.
"Whatever," says J.T.
Toby breathes in deeply, sets the basket on a bench under a Tempest poster. Jeff kept his word by forwarding some cash to him this morning. He'd make sure to buy him a thank-you gift as soon as he got back to Toronto, maybe a new Maple Leafs sweatshirt.
His mother, on the other hand, was as cordial as could be. Ever since Toby disrobed in the clothing store, yelled at her, Anne Marie acted curt or reserved. Whenever Toby walked into a room, she was busy or was pretending to be busy. There were definitely no hugs, only brief hellos or "do you need this"? The car privileges were still suspended, but the refrigerator was always stocked and the hired help made sure J.T. and Toby were well taken care of.
If he talked to her, he really wouldn't have known what to say. How do you ask your mother to respect your girlfriend for what has to be the tenth or twelfth time? Why should he be the one to convince her that Manny's special to him? Why couldn't she trust his trust that he and Manny will make it?
"That's the world's biggest basket," comments J.T. with an impressed whistle.
"For the world's biggest star," says Toby, signing the card and setting it inside.
"Now all you need is Goliath to carry it backstage for you," jokes J.T.
Toby scans the crowd, hoping that a stray actor is wandering around. He'd also take a props master or a costumer...or Colin, who conveniently has access to where Manny is before curtain. After asking J.T. to guard the basket, Toby parts the excited crowd and says hi.
"Hey!" cries Colin. "Toby, right?"
"Yeah," replies Toby. "Listen. You were really good in Cyrano. If I could sing like you, maybe I wouldn't be behind a computer."
Colin smirks. "Some obvious sucking up, but thanks. What's the deal?"
"I have a gift for Manny..."
"Say no more," interrupts Colin, raising his hand. "When should I put it there?"
"How about in the dressing room...during intermission?" suggests Toby.
"A little booster before the second half...genius!" says Colin. "Consider it done."
V.
She has been doing an outstanding job of it. Basically, every other person would mention the name and she'd run. Martika's looking for you, Manny. Martika's looking for you. Then, she'd duck into the nearest crevice, or pretend to have stage fright. The last time she had stage fright was the pageant and they'd run through the play so many times it was like snapping your fingers. Manny spots Blake and runs for cover. They'd be kissing in the next scene, which was already awkward, but hearing that she'd gotten the maid role would be a way more awkward exchange.
Lifting her tattered, lavender skirts, Manny weaves through some extra stage lights and a hat rack until she's in the dressing room. Ariel, also known as Lia, is chatting with the other spirits, all decked out in their colorful, mystical wings and crowns. Prospero is flipping through the prop spell book while munching a cookie. The lone person with a normal appearance is Colin, who sets something huge on her dressing room stool.
"Colin!" cries Manny, excitedly. "You shouldn't have!"
"I...I didn't," sighs Colin. "Man, I was hoping you didn't see me."
As she comes closer, she identifies it as a basket. What it holds makes her warm all over. Obviously, someone put a lot of thought into the gift.
"Who...," starts Manny.
The "who", the most likely suspect, hits her like a bunch of sand bags above the stage. Manny swallows a lump in her throat, awkwardly plays with a loose strand of her hair. Colin throws her a curious, warm gaze. Manny shakes her head and opens the card.
"This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet," reads Manny.
"Aw, Romeo and Juliet...the ultimate tragedy," praises Colin.
Manny lets her forehead fall against the basket handle.
"Toby," she murmurs.
He deceived her, and yet he writes this? This amazing quote he must've searched for? Then, she opens her eyes, views the rest. There were various types of roses– white, red, and pink, pink flowers outnumbering the others. In the middle of the flowers, there were boxes of chocolate, Sour Patch Kids, wrapped caramel. Most noticeable of all is a green four leaf clover charm, sitting in a tiny gold box. She assumes it's for her bracelet.
"My parents only send me care packages," complains Colin. "That's what you get when you're an actor and your sister's at Yale Medical."
"Yeah?" says Manny, absent-mindedly.
If Toby thought this would make up for what he's done, he's definitely wrong. Her eyes go to the shawl the kindly, elderly woman gave her. She spent a half hour at the mission. They talked in general and she shared tidbits about the Kevin Smith film. It was all so nice. She felt more assured than ever, more confident, that she belonged. No one saw her as someone who betrayed who they were, like Justin, and she didn't have to act differently. She was Manny...is Manny. And Manny has to stand strong, she thinks.
"Manny!" shouts Blake.
Her co-star, stroking the front of his breeches, approaches them.
"If this is related to Martika, then...," says Manny.
"No, we're almost on," clarifies Blake. "Besides, you'll see her at the cast party."
"I'm not going to the cast party."
"Why?" demands Blake.
"Plans," answers Manny.
"Plans...that beat a party?" says Blake.
Yeah, plans to get Toby to fess up for something she still can't believe he did. Perhaps she should go to the party to spite him. No, that's not her style and it wouldn't solve anything.
"Leave her alone, Blake," says Colin.
"Was I talking to you?" asks Blake, folding his arms.
"Guys," interjects Manny. "We have a show to do...the last. Let's make it good."
"Your wish is my command," sighs Blake.
"Want me to get some cellophane for the basket?" suggests Colin.
As much as she loves that basket, she hates it, too. It represents some silent peace treaty, an apology that's not an apology. She can only think to...yes, that makes the most sense.
"Trash it," says Manny.
"Why would you...," begins Colin.
"I said trash it!" exclaims Manny, taking two roses and throwing them in a nearby trashcan.
Manny takes a surprised Blake by the hand, not looking over her shoulder. They'd be on in a few minutes.
"You heard the lady," he says to Colin as the lights backstage darken.
VI.
Ever since he sat down, he's been practicing. He selected a place with a positive atmosphere, with a lot of flash and color. J.T. offered to find Manny after she got out, hail a cab, and tell them where she should meet him. Usually, he stayed after to personally congratulate her but this was important.
First, he'd follow suit and give her his heartfelt congratulations. See, that part was easy. Manny did excellently. The lines were already poetic, became more poetic when they flowed from her mouth. She, at turns, looked shipwrecked, innocent, in love. Ugh. He cringed when she kissed Blake. Sure, it's acting and he has to get used to that. That didn't make it any less difficult to sit through. What's more difficult? He has to tell her what happened with Kendra. This should've already been taken care of. He should've put on this black suit and red tie without worry. There should be celebration instead of doubt. Plus, Manny should've been here earlier, ten minutes ago to be precise.
Toby wrings his hands, lets them lay flat on the table. At least the decor is nice. Small, white and gold chandeliers were placed all throughout the room. The restaurant has light, red walls, windows showcasing the lit city of Los Angeles. The price of the food was high, but not staggering. When Toby called Jeff, he confessed that he had no idea where to take her. Jeff recommended Pastis. Pastis was where he ate with Anne Marie some time when she was in grad school. Toby almost didn't believe it, that his parents were at peace in their younger years. But, of course, he's a product of that unfathomable peace. He gave his father the benefit of the doubt and made reservations. Truth be told, when he was doing that, he felt really mature. He took that as a good sign.
Manny coming through the door of Pastis is the other good sign. Toby smiles. She looked more beautiful free from the corsets, ruffles, the lace. Her small shoulders and light blue dress are covered by a remarkable rose and gold shawl. He's never seen that before. It compliments her hair, long and wavy. He stands as a bow-tied waiter shows Manny to their table.
"Miranda," he says, going to her side and pulling out her chair.
Manny nods at the waiter, who leaves. She grins nervously and allows Toby to push in her chair.
"Did you like the basket?" asks Toby, taking his seat.
The nervous grin hasn't left her face. Why would she be nervous? The play's done. She can relax.
"I...I left it at the theater," replies Manny.
"It was too heavy. Sorry," apologizes Toby.
"Mmm hmmm," says Manny, darting her eyes to the left.
Okay, silence. They were rarely silent. Toby clears his throat.
"I admit...J.T. helped me with the quote," laughs Toby. "The drama club's doing Romeo and Juliet next year?"
"Yes," says Manny, eyes still turned.
"Can't wait to see you as Juliet," says Toby.
"Umm, I might stage manage," mumbles Manny.
Now, she's starting to search through her purse? Toby furrows his brow, his palms getting sweaty.
"You'll be well-rounded," praises Toby.
Instead of saying anything, Manny removes her shawl, puts it on the back of her chair. She zips her purse and finally faces him. Her gaze isn't sweet and light-hearted. That's what they were typically were, and tonight, they're focused, searching.
"I like this restaurant," says Manny.
"Thanks," says Toby.
He reaches under his chair, handing Manny a rectangular-sized box. This couldn't fit in the basket and he didn't want it to get damaged. Liberty's letter wasn't the only thing they had framed at the souvenir store. Manny offers him a puzzled look, shreds the gold wrapping paper.
Manny has a pleased smile, her gaze returning to its usual joyful self. Her Tempest playbill is behind the glass, the inset with her name and credits in a small compartment at the bottom of the frame. J.T. griped that they were at the store way too long so they could finish this, but Manny's expression is worth every second.
"Tobes, this is...," says Manny, her voice trailing off.
Her mouth changes, a frown quickly appearing. Perhaps he'd moved her that much, so much she was speechless. Toby blushes, leans into kiss her.
"No," whispers Manny, twisting her neck.
Toby blinks behind his glasses. He scoots back further into his chair. Why'd she turn away from him? Did she...yes, she did. She knew.
"I can't kiss you," whispers Manny.
Toby lowers his eyes.
"Do you want to confess something? Anything?" encourages Manny.
Toby stares at the other diners, the silverware, the city for solace. They offer him no comfort. The only thing, person giving him attention is Manny.
"Who told...," whispers Toby.
"That doesn't matter, Toby," interrupts Manny, shrugging. "I'm not kissing you if you're kissing some other girl."
"She kissed me!" exclaims Toby.
A passing waiter shoots him the evil eye, but that's no match for the pain inflicted on him by Manny's hurt look.
"It isn't even about the kissing," says Manny, tearfully. "It's everything else. You comfort her, you cheer her on, you protect her."
"I won't," insists Toby. "I won't...anymore. Manny..."
"Did you ever talk to her like you said you would?" asks Manny.
"Things kept coming up," answers Toby.
"Yeah, like things kept coming up so you didn't tell me," shoots down Manny. "That excuse doesn't work, Toby."
Toby can feel his eyes stinging behind his glasses. Of course, she's completely right. He could smack himself.
"Listen carefully," breathes Manny, taking his hand from across the table.
It's the first gentle contact she's initiated so Toby's more than willing to accept it, cradling her hand with his.
"When we began to date, you made me feel so beautiful...wonderful," says Manny, tears sliding on her cheeks. "My heart would know you were in the room before my eyes. It'd be beating so fast. I was like, why is my friend making me feel this way?"
Toby's hand reddens, a mark of shame or pleasure, he's not sure.
"It's because you weren't my friend anymore," cries Manny, Toby feeling her hand shake. "You were there for me, even when it was difficult. You took a chance because we started to change and you liked it. I still...I still like it, Toby."
"Manny," protests Toby weakly.
"I love it," breathes Manny, her voice cracking.
"Same," whispers Toby.
Manny's lip tremble. "You decided...it was me. You decided."
Toby's chest pounds. The whole room whirls, and he's so hot like he might faint.
"When did I not become your decision?" says Manny.
"You are...," starts Toby.
"No...no, I don't think I am," interjects Manny. "Because you would've talked to her and told me, and do all the things Toby usually does."
"I forget things when I talk to her, but not you," says Toby. "You are the most important girl..."
"Am I?" says Manny.
"Yes!" cries Toby.
"If...if I'm not the girl that makes you feel confident, amazing, strong...then I'm not the girl for you," asserts Manny. "I want you to feel like you need no one else. We can't be together until that's the case."
Toby's throat goes dry. He can't think. Why can't he think? He has to do something, say something. Hasn't Manny reassured him all those times, and he goes blank now? It's all going in slow motion. Manny putting on her shawl, handing him the playbill, rising.
"Can I get you two anything to drink?" asks their waiter, blocking her.
Yes, yes, block her! Block her until he has the words.
"I'm leaving," answers Manny.
She's walking...she's actually walking! Toby jogs after her, the restaurant's main room disappearing. He's only seeing her back, the shawl fluttering as they go outside.
"Taxi!" shouts Manny.
A cab rumbles to where she stands. Toby's quick this time, positioning himself in front of the vehicle.
"You fell out of love with me that fast?" demands Toby.
Hot tears stick to his nose. They're not going anywhere, and neither is Manny, not if he can help it.
"Toby...," says Manny, clearly exasperated.
She reaches for the door, Toby making sure she can't.
"Answer me," he pleads.
"The only one who has to answer that question is you," says Manny.
The calm answer forces him to do it all– to move, to open the car door for her, and to look at her through the window. Toby bends to talk to her. The cabbie honks his horn, obviously raring to speed away.
"Congratulations," whispers Toby, handing her the playbill.
Manny tenderly takes it. She hugs it to her chest and starts to sob. It's the last thing that's uttered before the cab engine starts and they go. She goes.
VII.
The light in the lowest room of his mother's house is on, a yellow rectangle behind the shrubbery. All the other lights are out. J.T. was probably at the cast party, having fun. Whenever he was around any fellow actors, he always had fun. Toby punches in the number so the gate will open, fumbles for his key.
When the front door is open, he can hear the TV from the foyer. They're laughing, constant laughter from some sitcom. Heh. They must feel all the joy in the world...they must've stolen it from him. His limbs are weak so he could barely crawl into his own cab. He collapses on the stairs, hand gripping a leg of the banister.
"Who's there?" she calls.
That's not the voice he wants to call. Manny's.
"It's me," says Toby.
Anne Marie, cream-colored business suit immaculate, steps slowly into the foyer. She takes in Toby's hunched frame. Toby turns from her. Every muscle in his body moves when he sniffles.
"Toby?" says Anne Marie.
"I...," says Toby, rising.
He was going to tell her that he was going to bed, or that he was tired. He was going to crash and stare at the ceiling all night. He was going to ignore every chance that he'd crack.
"I lost Manny," he chokes out.
Sighing, Anne Marie envelops her son in her arms. She lets his tears fall everywhere, strokes his brown hair.
"I lost her," cries Toby. "I've been doing everything wrong...I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," whispers Anne Marie. "Go ahead and cry...just go ahead and cry."