Someday You'll Laugh (4 page)

The ancient judge on the far left looked up. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I cleared my throat and attempted a smile. The pianist began and I came in right on cue.

The audition was a blur. The only thing I remembered was that my knees wouldn’t stop shaking. My dress was short, and so with every note all I could think about was whether the judges could see my knees creating their own personal earthquake.

When the songs were complete, I wanted to fall to the floor with relief. The last note from the piano faded into oblivion, and I ventured a look at the judges. All I saw was the gray hair on the top of each head as they conferred together. I stood, uncertain about what I was supposed to do.

After a minute of whispering, one of them — a thin woman whose wrinkles hung from her jaw like laundry on a summer day — smiled at me. “Dear, you may go. We’ll be in touch. Is this the number where we can contact you?” She held out a piece of paper with Greg’s dorm number.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said and fled the room. No exaggeration — fled.

Greg stood when he saw me coming and his look flipped from excitement to worried concern.

“What happened in there? You made it, right?” He took hold of my arm.

“I doubt it. I was awful, really awful. I was so nervous, my knees almost shook loose from my legs.”

He laughed, but sobered when he saw my face. “You couldn’t have been that bad. People always think they did worse than they did. You have a great voice.”

“I was horrible. I’m not kidding, I blew it.” The strangest thing was taking place in my body. A strand of relief began to grow and spread over me — an odd happiness over my failure.

Greg pulled me down onto a fake leather couch. “I know you. You couldn’t have been bad. When are they going to call with the news?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway because I know I didn’t make it.”

I’d never been so certain of anything in my life.

Greg ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm. “If you don’t make it, we’ll think of another way to get you here.”

I looked into his earnest eyes and saw his longing, but there was no echoing desire in my own heart. None.

“I don’t think so, Greg. I’m staying in Washington.”

He backed away and stared. “Why? What do you mean?”

“I’m staying in Washington.”

He rubbed his hand over his forehead. “These past couple of weeks have been too hard. Being apart is too hard. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but without you, it’s, well, it’s dead.”

I looked down at my clasped hands. He put his fingers under my chin and lifted my face to his. He leaned forward and kissed me. “I’ve missed you. More than I ever thought I would.” His voice was gentle and the tenderness flowing from him engulfed me and made it difficult to breathe.

I knew he was waiting for me to respond, but whirling confusion had grabbed my words, and I didn’t know what to say. As the silence grew, Greg’s brow creased and the muscles around his mouth tensed.

“Brenda?”

My eyes were wide and I knew tears hovered on my lashes. “Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“You said you wanted to see other people.”

“Oh that,” he said, and he sighed with obvious relief. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

He grabbed my arm and looked at me, his eyes moist but full of joy. “I was worried there for a minute. Don’t give another thought to what I said. It was stupid.
I
was stupid. We don’t have to see anyone else. I don’t want to, not even a little.”

He tried to pull me into his arms, but I remained stiff. His hands dropped from me, and he moved back a few inches. His eyes searched my face.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “You’ve met someone.”

The tears that had been balancing on my lashes began to fall. I stared into Greg’s stricken face. “No. No, I haven’t. Well maybe. Kind of. Yes.”

He rose from the bench and took a step backward. “Who is he? Then why did you come?”

I jumped off the bench and went to him. “He’s no one. It’s nothing. I don’t even know if he likes me…”

Greg put his hand to my mouth, and his fingers were cold. “Stop. Don’t talk. I don’t want to know.”

I pressed my lips together and began shaking as if a cold draft had come through the room. I swallowed past the lump clogging my throat. Greg’s expression flickered from anger to disbelief to sadness. I stood and watched him, and the tremor inside me gained intensity.

“Then we’re over,” he said. His words were spaced evenly, and I heard the steel control behind them. I expected his expression to be hard, but it wasn’t. It was nothing. Wiped clean. As if he was observing a blank TV screen.

I wondered what I was supposed to do. I reached out my hand, but he blocked it with his own. “Don’t,” he said.

My hand dropped to my side. Tears again filled my eyes, but given his demeanor, I couldn’t let them fall. I swiped at them with the back of my hand.

“What now?” I asked. I had the oddest feeling of having shrunk in size. I moved abruptly, trying to shake it off.

Greg’s chin rose and he squared his shoulders. “You go back to Washington and I stay here.”

“My ticket isn’t good until Friday.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something to do. You can keep staying in the girls’ dorm and either Don or I will take you to the airport when it’s time.” He turned and walked away.

“Greg.”

He paused, his back to me.

“I’m sorry.”

He pivoted and looked at me with eyes a mile deep in sadness. For the longest moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed and said, “It was my fault. I’m the one who decided we should see other people. And wow, didn’t it turn out just perfectly.”

He pushed through the frosted glass doors and was gone.

****

Time limps along when you’re sitting in a dorm room with absolutely nothing to do. I slept, went to the cafeteria to buy their cheapest bits of food, read the paperback I’d brought from home, twice, and waited for Friday to come. I’d tried to get an earlier flight but was told I’d have to pay a hefty fee which I didn’t have.

More than once, I started a letter to Paul, but each time I ended up ripping it to shreds. How dumb could I be? I barely knew him and was quite certain he wasn’t interested in my broken love life.

I became good friends with the industrial grade sheets the dorm provided for guests. I lay on them for hours contemplating my decision. Why had I been so quick to let Greg go? Had so much changed in the last few weeks? Was I so fickle as to switch allegiances in a New York minute?

The twirling questions got me nowhere. When Friday came, I ran out to the car. Don was driving and Greg was nowhere to be seen. I threw my suitcase into the backseat and climbed into the front. At the look on Don’s face, I asked, “You want me to sit in the back with my bag?”

He leveled an acid glance my way. “That would suit me fine.”

I slammed the door. “Think I’ll stay up here. And I don’t know why you’re so mad. I didn’t do anything to you.”

“Greg’s my best friend.”

“I’m aware. But if you’ll remember, he practically begged me to see other people.”

Don snorted. “Right. He hasn’t even looked at a girl since we arrived.”

“That’s not my fault.” I couldn’t keep the annoyance from my voice.

“Yeah, it is.”

I pushed back into the seat and pursed my lips. I was an inch away from sticking out my tongue at him like a five-year-old.

“He really liked you,” Don said, and I saw his hands tense up on the steering wheel.

“And I liked him. I didn’t plan this. I came all the way down here, didn’t I?”

“Too bad you didn’t dump him beforehand. Would’ve saved you both a lot of trouble.”

I scowled, but he was right.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the airport. Don pulled to the curb and I got out grabbing my bag.

“Oh by the way,” Don said over the seat. “Some judge called Greg. You didn’t make the cut.”

****

My sisters strangled me with hugs and questions when I got back to Washington. Mother stood to the side and watched with a growing frown on her face. When I shook them off, she walked to me and gazed into my eyes. “It’s over? Just like that?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m your mother, aren’t I?”

“Yes, it’s over. Back to Lower Columbia College on Monday.”

She pushed my bangs from my forehead and cupped my cheek with her rough hand. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. I might even be better than okay.”

“Good. Welcome home. I guess I don’t have to start helping you pack for a move south.”

****

On Monday, I woke up nervous. I was about to see Paul in class and I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t imagined our mutual attraction. What if it was all a delusion? What if I’d broken up with Greg for nothing?

Well, that was stupid. I wasn’t crazy about Greg anymore whether Paul liked me or not. I slipped into my light pink dress and zipped myself up. The dress was short, sitting well above my knees. My choice was intentional as I planned to pull out all stops. I layered on some thick mascara and fluffed my short hair. I tossed my black sweater over my shoulders knowing I’d probably freeze as the morning looked cool and the haze never burnt off until noon or later.

I looked into the mirror and smiled. My combo looked good and showed off my legs and waist, my two best features. I dabbed on a bit of lipstick and went outside to climb into the Jeep.

Western Civilization was first period so I’d see Paul right away. Like usual, I got there before him and as I waited, my heart went into a jittery dance. My breathing was shallow and for a minute, I felt light-headed.

Paul walked into class and his eyes immediately locked onto mine. I knew he was probing, trying to read what had happened in California.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey back,” he replied. He grabbed the seat next to mine and pulled it further away. It had become a joke between us, and I attempted a laugh. He gazed at me, paused, and then returned the desk to the spot butting up next to mine. He sat.

“How’d your audition go?”

“I messed up.”

“How’d it go with Greg?”

“Messed that up, too.”

His breath escaped in a long rush, and then he smiled. My heart latched onto his smile, and my stomach unclenched.

“Does this mean you’re staying here?” His eyes were hopeful.

“Yeah, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

He reached out and grabbed my hand for a quick squeeze. My heartbeat stumbled. A warm flush surged upward gathering in my throat, making it hard to swallow. I inhaled sharply and focused on the chalkboard in the front of the room.

Daddy Long-Legs entered and called the class to attention. I concentrated on the teacher, but my emotions had scattered and I was having trouble reining them in. I put my hand on my neck and felt my warm steady pulse. A strange sense of peace settled over me.

I’d been right to come home.

****

The day continued and I wondered whether I’d made too much of Paul’s quick hand squeeze. After all, he’d never asked me out on a date. He’d never declared any interest. He’d never even called me. By the time choir practice was to begin, I’d convinced myself I was a complete fool.

Sharon glommed onto me the minute I walked through the door.

“Where were you last week?” she asked.

“In California.”

She sucked in her breath and her hands fluttered at her sides. “Seeing Greg?”

“Yep. Seeing Greg.”

Chapter Four

A rosy flush moved up Sharon’s cheeks. She clamped her mouth shut and turned away. I watched and was tempted to gloat, but a feeling of sadness for her washed over me and I resisted. I grabbed my music folder from the slot and went to sit down. Paul came in a minute later. I watched his easy gate and the yearning to know him better formed a lump in my stomach. He was laughing and the sound settled into me like a good meal.

He caught my eye and winked. My eyes widened in surprise. I was about to return the wink, but he’d already looked away.

When choir rehearsal finished, he walked over to me. I sensed Sharon close and knew she had positioned herself to hear whatever he was about to say.

“Still glad you’re back?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “Then again, maybe not.”

He grinned. “So that’s how you’re going to play it.”

“That’s how I’m going to play it.”

Sharon coughed and made a choking sound. She pushed me aside to step closer to Paul. “Hi Paul. How was your weekend?”

“Great,” he answered and winked again.
Winked? At
Sharon? Really?

I thought he saved all his flirting for me.

“We need to set up a practice,” I said to him, and even I heard how stiff my voice sounded.

They both stared at me.

“Okay, when are you free?” he asked.

“How was Greg when you visited him?” Sharon interrupted.

I glanced at her. “Fine.” I focused on Paul. “I’m free whenever you are.”

“In California,” Sharon continued, stressing each word as if we were all half-deaf. When neither of us responded, she repeated, “In California, when you visited him.”

Paul looked at his watch. “How about two this afternoon?”

“When you were in California
last week
.” Sharon was not giving up. She was near tears as she continued trying to capture Paul’s attention.

He finally glanced at her then back at me. I hadn’t answered him, so he repeated, “Well? Is two o’clock okay?”

“Fine.” The word was abrupt and bordered on rude, but I couldn’t shake the thought of him winking at Sharon.

Paul flinched, narrowed his eyes, and studied me. My face became hot and I turned on my heel and fled.

Why didn’t I write
Fool
on a placard and hang it around my neck? I’d save myself from having to prove it every five minutes. I tromped across the lot to my dad’s Jeep. Paul didn’t like me — he liked stringing me along. Sharon and I both. I yanked open the door and scrambled into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and grabbed the gearshift.

I paused before pulling out into the traffic. I liked him. I more than liked him. I heaved a sigh that reached to the bottom of my lungs and leaned my head on the steering wheel.