12
Erik
Someone knocked on the door. I hoped it wasn't a cast member. They were all supposed to be on stage rehearsing. "Who is it?" I called.
"Uh, Mr. Y? It's me, Nicole," a familiar voice replied.
It was Thursday, seven o'clock. I neglected to call her. I sprung up from my chair and bolted to the door, but didn't let her see me rush. I opened the door and said with a small but genuine smile, "Come in, my dear. I was about to call you."
There she was, in her regular baggy garb, holding a manila folder. She stepped in and said, "Well, this is a convenient shortcut to where my aunt works. I pick her up when she's not on call. She hates driving. I thought I'd stop by and give you the headshots of the cast and crew." She handed it to me and I opened it. There were many pages of Polaroids of teenagers making goofy faces. At the bottom of the pictures, there were their names and their roles. I remembered her speaking of a Lavon, and there he was, playing Louis Luna. She caught me looking at him and said, "Lavon is, like, my best buddy, but I promise you he nailed the audition and earned the part. Like, if Will. and Pearl Bailey had a three-way with a gazelle, that's how Lavon would be made." I looked up at her and she blushed. "I'm very sorry…that was inappropriate."
Yes, it was, but it was funny. I smiled at her, "It's all right."
She smiled back. "Good, good." She yawned and covered her mouth. Then she grunted, "I haven't had a good night's sleep in a while…gotta pick up Auntie Tonya and do a buttload of homework. I have to go. I'll, uh, hear from you Tuesday, right?"
I discreetly had been entering her dreams all week, and she seemed to enjoy them but often woke up in the middle of things. I was still rather amazed she hadn't identified me yet. "Sorry to hear that, Nicole." I patted her shoulder but wished I could hold her in my arms and confess. "I'll be in touch."
"Okay, bye," she said. She left.
I took the secret passage to my underground lair. All the candles remained lit. I took a long candelabrum to the table with my miniature stage. Earlier I had been refashioning an old figurine to look like Nicole. I cut off some of the hair and carved it to match her hair's texture and painted her skin darker. All there was left to do was color her eyes brown and make her clothes baggy. Even in her dreams, she wore loose sweaters and baggy jeans. Was that all she owned? She was beautiful even in them, but I longed to see her without them.