Chapter 37c: Life Experiences
This was the worst. The worst of the worst. Never have I been this glad to find our practice ending.
What kind of perverted drama teacher did they put in charge here, anyways?
I dash out of the theatre with my bag slung over my shoulder and find the shortest route to the nearby bus. With a bit of luck, it is still here. My pace quickens a bit at the thought, but I won't run. The soft chattering behind me holds the gravitas of a stampeding herd of wildebeest like in the Lion King, but if they'll smell blood, they'll turn into hyenas!
Frankly speaking, I think I'm in luck that Miss Meadows is letting me come back by bus. Having her pick me up would just turn this into a tragedy.
Sweet, the bus is still there. The little sprint I make catches the drivers attention just well enough to that I can still make it in and quickly buy a ticket before we leave.
I find a spot, and the bus accelerates rather briskly. Ah. The time. It is already a bit delayed, no wonder. We zoom by the herd, and I can see some of them waving and winking and making exaggerated little kissy faces. Ugh.
"You looked like you just escaped the train to Auschwitz."
The sudden voice of the elderly man in the seat on the other side of the aisle drags me out of my thoughts. I offer him a sore smile. "I did." I respond gravely, drawing on my paltry acting experience. "Although I feel more like Simba in the Lion King escaping that stampeding herd."
The guy guffas heartily, but it soon sets off a cough that allows me to study him a bit more. His face is wrinkly as is typical for someone his age, but he appears very neat with all the buttons on his blazer neatly closed and the cufflinks making him appear like one of those old-fashioned gentlemen. The hat resting on his lap with the cane between his legs finish the picture. He must have witnessed the war, if a comparison with jews leaving to the concentration camps is the one he thinks of.
"Typically it is my teacher that picks me up, but the fact she doesn't means I dodged the train you spoke of. You know what those motherly types are like, right?"
I find myself caught offguard by the fact I'm volunteering so much about myself. Yeah. This is probably what happens when things click. He's the likeable sort of grandpa, after all.
"Oh. Do I eeeever." he responds with a hearty disposition and playful wink. "I think I understand. After all, at your age, there's only two things that can make you feel that panicked." My heart jumps in place, but I mentally try to silence the beating that I have gotten rather aware of due to his teasing comment as I tilt my head at him, playing it cool.
"You either got a girl you like, or there's a girl that likes you."
Crap. I can't control my cheeks from betraying it, even if I keep it calm. It seems he isn't done yet, though.
"But you mentioned a stampede, which implies a chase. So I think it is the latter more-so than the former. And there might be two girls, friend of sorts?"
He offers my this conspirational vibe, but he is clearly just having a bit of lighthearted fun. As I realize this, I remember he is a stranger, so what is there to be embarassed about?
"Eh.. make it half a dozen girls. And they're just liking me in the way you like food. It's nothing meaningful."
He guffaws again, but at least there's no coughing fit this time. "Ahaha. That is spoken like a true boy." Had dad said something like that, I'd have felt the urge to punch him rising, but this old pops? He somehow gets away with it, my lips contorting into a grin.
"We're in a theater group together." I decide to start explaining the story a bit. The change of mind is welcome, after all. "Girls are overrepresented, and this holds some unfortunate outcomes in regards as to the priorities of our instructor. Which is kind of stupid in my eyes; instead of trying to appeal to boys like me to try and even things out, they just focus on what the majority wants. It's so stupid."
The man glances at my thoughtfully throughout my explanation, offering a few headbobs of understanding here and there.
"So with this many girls in our group, you can imagine the instructor went for the low-hanging fruit of focusing on romantic scenes to bolster their enthusiasm. Ugh. Whatever. It needs to happen some day, right? The problem is that they all want me as their partner, and when that doesn't cause them to fight, it definitely means they love to take every little liberty they can. Ugh. Girls!"
He snorts again, trying to suppress his giggles at my expense. I find myself snorting, too. Neither of us needs to speak, and although he probably finds it funny because he's got a few more years on me and thinks of it differently, I mostly just enjoy the opportunity to rant about this dilemma of mine and connect with someone who can at least pretend to understand. The fact that somewhere behind us there's someone else eavesdropping who fails to keep sufficiently silent just makes me feel like I'm in a bus of like-minded peers. It's kind of blissful for as far feelings go, actually.
I see grandpa reaching for his button, so we're probably coming up to his stop. That's a bummer. Why do good things have to end so quickly? I better get to the point and wrap the story up a bit; I'd hate to leave him hanging. 'That's not how stories go', Setsuka admonished me once or twice, and it stuck with me.
"But that's not the worst of it. You see, they all advocated for practicing kisses, because they deem those very important. Thankfully for me, the teacher isn't quite that stupid, so she said we could as long as they are going to be mature about it."
I pause a moment for dramatic effect, but I fear the shit-eating grin may be slipping on my features. "So what did she do? She said it wasn't efficient for everyone to choose partners or to let the few guys have to practice with so many different girls, so she said she'll make pairings next time. And whatever exercises we do then, we'll all do twice: once in the role of a boy, once in the role of a girl. For the sake of, " I add some gravitas to my voice before laughing, "'your growth as actors'."
The bus comes to a sliding stop, and I see the old man move to get up, but he struggles a bit since I apparently got him stuck in a good fit of laughter. I quickly stand up and offer him a helping hand to lean on, being the culprit that has put him into this state. Incidentally, it has also caused the driver to throw a frustrated glance in our direction through his mirror.
"Well, it sounds like your teacher is a pretty tough cookie." he offers as he catches his breath a bit. "She definitely is." I agree with him as I help him towards the door.
"She is. But I might just skip the next practice; I'm not really comfortable with everything that might happen." I confide in him.
Right as he is about to step out of the bus, he shakes his head. "Nonsense, kid. You'll go. Do you know how many men there are that dream of a free ticket to feel up cute girls? You're not a man if you run from that."
He turns around and finally gets out of the bus, and the doors begin to close almost instantly after, a clear sign of the annoyance of the bus driver.
"It's Cain." I quickly call out as an introduction, and he flashes me a thumbsup since the doors close just too quickly.
Mom always stressed the importance of good manners. So it is only right to introduce yourself, even if it is right before parting. A proper grandpa like this man deserves at least that much respect.
The bus starts moving, and I stumble a bit as I move to the closest free seat.
Pops has a point. A man who runs... is not a man at all.
I should not become a man that runs. Not like him.