CHAPTER 33
{Alyssa}
The Formalwearhouse (which I guess is a play of words on 'warehouse'), is a huge, boxy, industrial-looking building; so as Mom and I pulled up to it and parked, all I could envision was endless rows of heavy canvas overalls and steel-toed work boots for sale.
Fortunately, the reality was very different.
While the interior still looked pretty warehouse-like (no decor, to speak of), the place had the biggest collection of tuxedos and elegant dresses I'd ever seen!
After finding the right department, Mom and I started working our way through the racks, and in less than twenty minutes I'd already found nine dresses that I really liked...
...and that she couldn't find any good reason to reject!
We hauled them all to the nearest fitting room and I tried them on, coming out and showing each one to Mom.
Oh, one other good thing about this place: there are very few employees. Mom absolutely hates when salespeople offer unsolicited opinions of what you try on. She knows exactly what she does/doesn't like, and considers anyone who tries to advise her otherwise to be an impudent nuisance.
And I don't think I need to describe to you the argument that inevitably follows!
Within thirty minutes, we'd narrowed my nine options down to five.
And then, Mom said, "Alyssa...I don't know; go get your phone. Call Emma and find out what she's wearing.
"I asked, but she wouldn't tell me."
"At least find out what color it is."
"She wouldn't tell me that either...and believe me, I tried!"
Mom shook her head. "I just don't want the two of you to clash!"
"Well," I told her, "one thing I can guarantee is that it's not pink!"
"How do you know that?"
"Because Emma absolutely hates that color. She doesn't own anything pink; and she told me that she's really excited about her outfit...so, there's no way it's pink."
Mom said, "Well, I'm glad she likes it; because with that Barry Glickman picking out her clothes, I was worried it would be something completely inappropriate for a young girl to wear."
"Inappropriate?"
She nodded. "He works in the entertainment industry...and believe me, I've seen some Red Carpet looks that are truly scandalous! I didn't want her to show up in something with a slit from the floor all the way up to her shoulder...or a neckline plunging all the way down to her knees...or so low-cut in the back that most of her rear end is hanging out!"
I smiled. "I don't think Emma would ever consent to wearing something like that."
"Exactly," Mom replied, "...which is why it's such a relief to know that, whatever it is, she likes it."
I thought things over for a minute. "If you're worried about us clashing, then maybe I should get a dress in a neutral color."
Apparently Mom's mind was still in "inappropriate for a young girl" mode, because she answered, "You mean, like black? Absolutely not!"
I shook my head. "No, I was thinking more like white."
"You can't wear white either! The lighting at these types of events can be really bright, and no matter what you're wearing underneath a white dress, if the light hits you at just the right angle, it will give everyone around you 'X-Ray vision'...and then they'll be able to clearly see your...special spots! Also, you can't wear white yet...not until after Memorial Day!"
As I rolled my eyes at that archaic fashion 'rule', she added, "And don't even DREAM of asking for a red one!"
Since when is red a neutral color? I wondered...
...but before I could ask, I noticed - to my immense relief - that she seemed to have run out of steam.
She took a deep breath and said, "Alyssa, all five of these dresses are nice, and I'm going to let the final decision be yours. Which one do you like best?"
"This one," I told her, pointing down at the lavender one I currently had on.
Mom nodded, then went into my dressing room and put the other four back on their hangers. "I'm going to return these to the rack," she said. "Get changed and I'll meet you at the cash register."
Ten minutes later, I was hurrying toward it, hugging my new dress and hoping that Emma will love it as much as I do!
XXXXX
{Emma}
As I was driving to school Tuesday morning, my phone rang.
It was Alyssa.
"Guess who's invited to dinner at my house tomorrow night?!" she squealed.
"Uh...King Konger?"
"That's not funny! Now, guess again."
"Moi?"
"Yes! Emma, I can't wait...especially since, thanks to that dumb sub sale, it's probably the only chance I'll have to see you all week!"
I replied, "Oh, while we're on the subject, how are things going with that so far?"
"Well, yesterday we finished setting up all the tables for our assembly line; and then we drew lots to see who's in charge of which ingredient."
"Alyssa, I hope you didn't get onions again, like last year!"
"I know...wasn't that awful? I had three plastic gloves on each hand, but it still took nearly a week to get the smell off! Actually, this year I got lucky; I'm on lettuce."
"Congrats!"
She was silent for a moment, then added, "Well, I'll call you this evening, like I promised last night...right before I was so rudely hung up on!"
"Uh, do you mind if I call you instead? Barry had to cancel our pizza date, so we're doing it tonight instead, and I'm not sure what time I'll be out of there; but if it's before 10:30, I definitely will."
"Okay, that will be fine," she said...
...but, I still clearly heard the disappointment in her voice.
That girl couldn't act her way out of a paper bag!
"So, what time is dinner tomorrow?" I asked.
"At six pm."
"If you want, I'll give you a ride home from school," I offered, "and then we can hang out until-"
"Sorry, no. Mom won't be home until 5:30," she replied...
...and I let it drop. I'm well aware there's No Way I'll ever be allowed in the house unless Mrs. Greene is there also.
"Well, how did it go last night?" I asked. "Did you find a nice dress?"
"Yes...and don't you dare ask me what it's like! I'm not telling you a single detail! You're not the only one who can keep secrets!"
I knew the brat was now expecting/desperately hoping I'd beg her to tell me...
...but instead, I decided to be a total spoilsport, and said amiably, "Okay, Alyssa. Fair is fair."
"Damn you!"
In my best 'shocked' voice, I gasped, "Oh, my Lord, did sweet, innocent little Alyssa Greene just utter a profanity? What's the world a-comin' to?"
Now sounding offended, she said, "So help me, Emma Nolan, the next time I get my hands on you...!"
Since she didn't finish her sentence, I did: "...they'll still reek of onions!"
With an audible, indignant huff, she hung up on me...
...and I laughed all the rest of the way to school.
As I walked down the hotel hallway at 5:58, I had no idea what to expect...
...and was pretty nervous when I stopped at Barry's door and knocked.
He opened it promptly. "Hi, Emma; come in."
I did, and then studied his face very carefully.
He looked really tired, like he'd been up all night, but at least he now he didn't seem upset, or like he was still crying.
But wanting to be sure, I asked, "How are you feeling today?"
With a smile, he replied, "Much better."
Relieved, I took a step closer and threw my arms around his neck. "Barry, I'm so glad!"
He pulled me close and hugged me...
...and then, seconds later, I heard (and felt) a loud whack...
...as his right hand ricocheted off my butt!
"Ow!" I yelled, jumping back and rubbing my aching left ass cheek. "What the hell was that for?!"
Looking down at me, he narrowed his eyes and answered, "For being a bad Emma!"
?
At first, I had no idea what he could possibly mean...
...but then, I realized that it could only be one thing: he knew I'd been listening in on Dee Dee's call.
And, admittedly, it had been wrong of me to do it...
...but, how did he find out? Was he watching me through his door's peephole?
Well, whatever the reason, I knew that now there was only one right thing for me to do: to come completely clean.
Taking a deep breath, I began, "Barry, I'm really, really sorry about this; but, while I was in the hall yesterday, I made the deliberate decision to listen in on Dee Dee's phone call...but, the only reason I did was because I was so worried about you!"
He opened his mouth to reply...
...but before he could, I quickly continued, "And I heard her yelling at that low-life who cast you in the show, but then went back on his word."
"You mean Ray Hudson?" he asked. "I'm not the least bit concerned about that."
"Y-you're not?"
He shook his head. "Our lawyer is handling all of that, and he says we have a very strong case. Sheldon is staying on top of it, and he'll let us know when we need to follow up on it."
I hesitated for a moment, but then told him the rest.
He had a right to know.
"Uh, Barry, there's more. I also overheard what his bastard wife wrote about you in that magazine. I'm so sorry! Not only because I heard it, but also because she said such hateful, despicable things about-"
"Oh, Monica?" he replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I couldn't care less what she writes."
"Wh-what? Y-you don't?"
He shook his head. "Not at all. Look, if that article had been written by an actual journalist, one who has integrity...like Tasha LeRoy, or Mel Schrieffer, I'd have been extremely offended, but no one in the entire publishing industry has even a shred of respect for Monica or takes her seriously. In fact, I'd never give either of the Hudsons permission to offend me...they are so beneath me!"
I stared at him...bewildered.
Something was NOT adding up!
With no idea what it all meant, I asked, "Uh, Barry, if you don't care about what they did, then yesterday why were you so..."
Instead of answering, he turned away and walked over to the desk, against the far wall.
Returning to where I stood, he put something into my hand...
...and looking down at the three sheets of heavy gray stationery I was holding, I began to read:
{Dear Barry,
From the very beginning, I've followed your career with great interest, starting with your first off-Broadway performance in 'Prince of Wails', all the way up to your starring role in "Eleanor: The Musical" (I can't believe the show closed after only one night; you were robbed)!
But, while the media has always covered your professional career in great detail, there's been virtually nothing written about your personal life. I always assumed that was because you're not 'out' and instead are enjoying a quiet private one, in a nice home somewhere, with a wonderful husband and 2.5 cats.
As for me, after receiving my Master's degree, I was offered - and accepted - a decent starting position with an international firm based in Los Angeles. I've been with the same company ever since and am currently working on a major bridge and tunnel project in Vancouver, and will be all the way through the summer.
But regarding my personal life, despite my original intentions, I never married; I couldn't bring myself to do something like that to a sincere, loving, unsuspecting girl. Still, I was terrified of Dad's wrath, so instead I made discrete inquiries at a local Acting Academy (I didn't want to use an escort service...for so many reasons) and contacted a number of women students who were looking for side gigs.
Right up front, I was honest and explained my situation, and made it clear that I'd compensate them well for spending an occasional fun evening with me at a nice restaurant...and assured them that I would never ask for anything else.
But the photos I sent home regularly to Dad satisfied him that I was "getting around," but still wasn't married because I just hadn't met the right girl yet.
Unbeknownst to him, the truth was that actually I hadn't met the right guy...
...and still haven't, because I've spent very little time looking.
And you're the reason why.
Dad's 3 pack-a-day habit finally caught up with him; and the funeral was last February.
I'm finally free.
But even though I now could live more or less openly, I didn't even attempt to find someone...
...because I knew no one else could ever take your place in my heart...or my life. But still, I never dreamed that there could ever be anything between us again...
...or that I'd ever be able to even see you again...
...until a month ago, when I received a single very long, very heartfelt email.
From your friend Emma.
When she told me that you aren't with anyone, and how you still feel...
...I have to confess that I spent most of the next two days crying like a baby.
I was sure that by now, you'd have forgotten about me completely.
Barry, not a day goes by that I haven't thought about you, too. I swear, I've always wanted more for us, so much more, but it was literally a matter of life and death, both mine and yours...and that's why I had to walk away.
But still, I owe you so many apologies.
I know you wanted to go to your prom with me. I was going to ask you to introduce me to one of the girls at your school, who I'd invite as my date, and then you and I could sit together at the same table. But as badly as wanted to do this, I didn't have the guts to tell you.
I really regret it and I'm sorry.
And the day we parted ways, you asked me if we could call each other occasionally, but I refused...not because I didn't trust you, but because I didn't trust myself. I knew that, just by hearing your voice, I wouldn't be able to keep my feelings for you buried. Instead, I'd have caved completely and begged you to come back to me.
Back in February, I was offered the opportunity to transfer to our Manhattan office. At the time, I refused; but last week I checked and the position was still open, so I put in my transfer request, which has just been approved. Due to my current obligations, I won't be able to come down to New York, not even to visit, until the second week of September; but then, I'll be moving there by the end of the month.
Barry, after reflecting deeply on everything Emma wrote about you - and about how you still feel - can I be so bold as to ask you if we can please give ourselves one more chance? I'd love more than anything to meet you in New York...and it can be anywhere you like...and then, if you're willing, to pick up where we left off.
I'm so very, very sorry...about everything; and I promise I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you'll let me.
My phone number is at the bottom of this page; but if you change your mind and decide not to contact me, I understand completely...and wish you the very best in everything...wherever life takes you.
Love always,
Your Andrew}
I looked back up at Barry...
...but before I could say a word, he took hold of my shoulders and marched me across the room, over to his lowboy dresser...
...and then, pointing at my reflection in its mirror he said, "Wanna see what a b-bad girl looks like?"
Unsure how to answer that question, I turned around to face him...
...but then, with a smile, I thought to say, "Fortunately Sin Sentry doesn't block online searches of architectural firms."
He buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Emma...I...I'm sorry I spanked you! I just-"
"Barry, it's okay; it wasn't that hard a whack," I lied.
He looked back up at me and opened his mouth to reply...
...but instead, shook his head, then turned and walked over to the desk again.
A moment later, he brought back an oversize, red-and-white Express Delivery envelope.
Reaching inside it, he handed me a photo.
"Wow! When you said he's good-looking, you weren't kidding!"
Barry nodded.
I stared at the photo again. "He looks like a...a Viking god! I mean, a clean, better-groomed version...who showers and shaves and has short hair."
"Doesn't he have great hair? I used to love to run my hands through it...well, actually, both of us really enjoyed that!"
Reaching back into the envelope, Barry handed me something else: a large, colored pastels drawing, matted and encased in a stiff, clear plastic sleeve.
I studied it closely.
It was of a much younger Barry, seated on a park bench awash in late afternoon sunlight...and wearing the most wonderful smile.
"This is gorgeous! He's very talented!"
At first I wondered if it was sketched from memory, but then saw the date under the signature and realized it had been done during their summer together.
"I'll never forget that afternoon," he told me. "It's the closest thing we ever had to going on an actual date. It was very early September, during our local beauty pageant week. There was a huge parade at the north end of the city, and since everyone in town would be up there, the restaurant was going to open two hours later than usual. Andrew and I hadn't heard about this, and when we showed up for work at our usual time, the boss told us to go amuse ourselves for a couple of hours before punching in. So, we did.
Since all his dad's cop friends were going to be up at the north end, ogling the girls as they rode by in convertibles, we knew it would be safe for both of us to be outside together. Two blocks from the restaurant was a public park, so we each grabbed a hot dog and a root beer from a wienie wagon on the corner, then walked into the center of the park - just in case - and sat down on that bench to enjoy them. Afterward, he got up and stood in front of it, just looking down at me, and the sunset was in his hair, and he looked so, so..."
His voice trailed off.
"You don't even have to finish that sentence," I told him, looking back down at the drawing. I can see clearly in your face exactly how you felt about...Barry, he did such a great job on this! He captured, not only your image, but also your...essence."
He nodded, then sat down in a nearby chair.
I walked over and looked down at him. Neither of us spoke...
...but finally, I said, "He included his phone number. When are you planning to call him?"
"I already did...this morning. And he s-said for me to tell you something: th-that the reason he never emailed you back is b-because, when he gets here in September, one of his very first priorities is going to be to come see you in person; because he w-wants to look at y-your lovely face and somehow try to express h-how m-much-"
He started to sob. "Emma, d-did you s-see what he wr-wrote at th-the end of the-the-about the r-rest of h-his-"
He couldn't continue.
Taking a step closer, I wrapped my arm around his shaking shoulders, and then...
...I let him do what no man had ever done before...
...or ever will again: I pulled him close and rested his face against my chest.
"I...I'm n-not cr-crying."
"I know you're not."
To my surprise, he pulled himself together pretty quickly...
...and don't you dare repeat this to Alyssa, but a hell of a lot faster than she ever has!
Leaning back in his chair, he said, "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to get your shirt soggy."
"It's okay," I told him. It's not Dry Clean Only."
He stared down at his knees for a long time, but then looked up at me and said, "Unfortunately, there's one thing about all of this that's absolutely heartbreaking for me."
"What?"
"That I can never, ever begin to repay you for what you did!"
"Repay me? Barry, this isn't a business transaction; there's nothing to repay."
"Yes, there is! Emma, you don't understand what this means to me! And...even though it could never begin to equal my...joy, somehow, I want to make you happy, too!"
With no idea how to reply, I told him, "Well, you're buying me pizza tonight, so-"
"That's not enough! Not nearly enough!"
"Well, uh...Lopresti's also makes great molten chocolate lava cake, so I'll let you buy me one of those, too."
"Still not enough!"
"Two cakes? And I promise I'll eat them both...right in front of you?"
"Still not enough!"
"Barry, look...two nights ago, you insisted on paying for my entire prom outfit, so what more could I possibly-"
"Still not enough!"
Crap...what can I tell him now?
"Uh...Barry, you and everyone else came all the way down here from New York and helped me have a prom...twice! It's something I never dreamed would be possible for me, and I'm so very grateful for-"
"Still not enough!"
I couldn't come up with anything else.
He stared at me in silence, then said, "Do you have any plans for Thursday night?"
"Um...no."
"Well, now you do. I'm having you over for dinner again, and then-"
"Wow, dinner twice in one week?" I exclaimed. "Well, then, that certainly is a more than adequate way of showing your appreciation for-"
"No...It's Still Not Nearly Enough!"
"B-b-but-"
He jumped to his feet and, staring down at me, declared, "Now, you listen to me, Emma Nolan. I'm giving you 48 hours to think about this, but the next time you walk through that door, you had better be waving a list of demands...like a terrorist! Between now and then, you're going to come up with as many things as you possibly can that you really, really want! And then, together, we're going to go through every single item on that list; and then-"
"Barry, I couldn't possibly do tha-"
"Would you rather have another spanking?" he asked sternly...
...and I jumped away. "No!" I exclaimed...
...but, looking up at his expression, I clearly saw that he was only joking.
Finally, I caved. "Okay, Barry, I promise I'll do exactly that."
He nodded approvingly.
(Little did he know that my list of "demands" would probably only be five or six different kinds of candy bars!)
Suddenly, he asked, "Oh, did you bring that menu?"
I pulled it out of my backpack and held it out to him.
He shook his head. "After what you did, you get to decide."
I thought it over for a minute. "Well, they have two different pizzas that I really love...but it's always hard to choose between them."
"That's fine," he replied. "We'll have one kind tonight, and the other when you come over on Thursday."
"Okay," I agreed. "How about bacon, onions, and mushrooms tonight...and then pepperoni on Thursday?"
He nodded and pulled out his phone.
Less than an hour later, dinner arrived.
After knocking off a full 50% of a large pizza by myself, finishing my second chocolate lava cake was a real struggle...but I'd promised Barry, so I soldiered on bravely. Once the last bite had disappeared, he sent me to the bathroom to de-grease, while he took all the trash down to the chute at the end of the hall.
After returning, he washed his own hands, then sat down again in the chair across from mine.
I wasn't sure what we should talk about, but he was and started telling me all about the prom caterer he'd found and discussing the menu at length. Then, he pulled out his phone again and showed me eleven different possible floral arrangements for the dining tables' centerpieces and asked me which one I liked best. It was a hard decision since I thought they all were equally beautiful, so I asked him to choose, but he refused.
Finally, I went with #7.
Looking at his watch, he said, "Tomorrow's a school day, so let's call it a night...but you're definitely going to be here at 6 on Thursday evening."
It was not a question.
"Yes, I promise," I assured him.
Two minutes later, I was walking down the hotel's hallway, toward the exit.
"YOU HAVE 48 HOURS, SISTER!" he yelled after me...
...and extending both of my arms out to the sides, I gave him two thumbs up, without looking back.
