with a man who gave me earth rocking sex, lots of laughter, plenty of kick-ass dates and zero future. Boyd was all about his plans with his girlfriend Phoebe. He had their happy life all mapped out and that was enough to keep me quiet about mine.
I foolishly hoped that I'd spy Tristan in the audience on Friday night. I peeked through the curtains at the audience expecting to see his tawny head towering above the crowd. I smiled with pity for the poor soul who has to sit behind my giant. Only he's not your giant, remember that.
"Hey, it's bad luck to look at the audience," Boyd laughed from behind me. "In which case, I've cursed every production I've ever been involved with. How's the house?"
"Filling up. Looks like we have a decent crowd." Except for the one person I hoped to see…
***
Concentrate . The computer screen was turning into a maze of nonsense. My mind just refused to obey me as I struggled to cross reference 'Shakespeare' with 'Elizabethan'. It was an important interface and I just could not seem to make it work.
Every time the little bell over the door rang I hoped that it would be Tristan or at least the flower delivery guy. The last flowers I'd been sent were looking ragged on my coffee table, but I couldn't bring myself to throw them away. The finality of that was too much. It was a busy day and I had plenty of opportunities to be disappointed.
By the time I turned the key in the lock and headed for the subway I was so damn sad I wondered if I'd be able to make it through the night's performance without bursting into tears. The play was a very erotic tale of lovers who had been separated and reunited. Of course I couldn't watch it without thinking of Tristan. I'd never hurt this way, never missed anyone so keenly, never felt so devastated at a loss. As I listened to the hum of the train over the track, I knew that this was my first real heartbreak. And with that realization came the knowledge that I did love Tristan. Dancing around limitations and saying anything but the 'L' word didn't make what I felt anything but what it was. All the rationalization in the world couldn’t stop it from happening. Love trumps logic every time.
It was almost curtain time and I rushed through the stage door and took my place. There was barely enough time to close the store and get to the theater on time. If I had been getting paid I probably would have gotten fired for cutting it to the minute. But I wasn't, so everyone cut me a lot of slack. They were grateful to have me.
I took my place at stage left after I checked the line-up of props. The play was quite simply staged so I didn't have a lot to do, really.
Boyd came up beside me. "I'm leaving early tonight. Phobe's coming home in time for Christmas and I have to pick her up." He wore a full-body smile and I envied him.
"I'd love to meet her when the two of you come up for air."
"Oh for sure. I know you'll like her."
"I know I will, too."
It was during the first intermission that I saw him. Most of the people in the audience got up to stretch their legs or get a drink in the lobby, but Tristan sat five rows back in the center section idly flipping through the playbill. Every nerve ending in my body woke up and started singing. He came, he came, he came!
I had two acts to compose myself which was a very good thing. It wouldn't do to go running down the aisle to leap into his arms. Appearing pleased, but not giddy was the goal. And I knew better than to even hint at how triumphant I felt. But his presence sure felt like a victory to me.
During the second intermission he left his seat and I waited behind the curtain agonizing over whether he would return for the final act. The play wasn't on a par with the kind of things we'd gone to see on Broadway. It wasn't even close to as good as the production Tristan had starred in at the Mahkeenac Little Theater. This one wasn't going to win any Pulitzer Prize, that's for sure. I hoped he had the patience to
I foolishly hoped that I'd spy Tristan in the audience on Friday night. I peeked through the curtains at the audience expecting to see his tawny head towering above the crowd. I smiled with pity for the poor soul who has to sit behind my giant. Only he's not your giant, remember that.
"Hey, it's bad luck to look at the audience," Boyd laughed from behind me. "In which case, I've cursed every production I've ever been involved with. How's the house?"
"Filling up. Looks like we have a decent crowd." Except for the one person I hoped to see…
***
Concentrate . The computer screen was turning into a maze of nonsense. My mind just refused to obey me as I struggled to cross reference 'Shakespeare' with 'Elizabethan'. It was an important interface and I just could not seem to make it work.
Every time the little bell over the door rang I hoped that it would be Tristan or at least the flower delivery guy. The last flowers I'd been sent were looking ragged on my coffee table, but I couldn't bring myself to throw them away. The finality of that was too much. It was a busy day and I had plenty of opportunities to be disappointed.
By the time I turned the key in the lock and headed for the subway I was so damn sad I wondered if I'd be able to make it through the night's performance without bursting into tears. The play was a very erotic tale of lovers who had been separated and reunited. Of course I couldn't watch it without thinking of Tristan. I'd never hurt this way, never missed anyone so keenly, never felt so devastated at a loss. As I listened to the hum of the train over the track, I knew that this was my first real heartbreak. And with that realization came the knowledge that I did love Tristan. Dancing around limitations and saying anything but the 'L' word didn't make what I felt anything but what it was. All the rationalization in the world couldn’t stop it from happening. Love trumps logic every time.
It was almost curtain time and I rushed through the stage door and took my place. There was barely enough time to close the store and get to the theater on time. If I had been getting paid I probably would have gotten fired for cutting it to the minute. But I wasn't, so everyone cut me a lot of slack. They were grateful to have me.
I took my place at stage left after I checked the line-up of props. The play was quite simply staged so I didn't have a lot to do, really.
Boyd came up beside me. "I'm leaving early tonight. Phobe's coming home in time for Christmas and I have to pick her up." He wore a full-body smile and I envied him.
"I'd love to meet her when the two of you come up for air."
"Oh for sure. I know you'll like her."
"I know I will, too."
It was during the first intermission that I saw him. Most of the people in the audience got up to stretch their legs or get a drink in the lobby, but Tristan sat five rows back in the center section idly flipping through the playbill. Every nerve ending in my body woke up and started singing. He came, he came, he came!
I had two acts to compose myself which was a very good thing. It wouldn't do to go running down the aisle to leap into his arms. Appearing pleased, but not giddy was the goal. And I knew better than to even hint at how triumphant I felt. But his presence sure felt like a victory to me.
During the second intermission he left his seat and I waited behind the curtain agonizing over whether he would return for the final act. The play wasn't on a par with the kind of things we'd gone to see on Broadway. It wasn't even close to as good as the production Tristan had starred in at the Mahkeenac Little Theater. This one wasn't going to win any Pulitzer Prize, that's for sure. I hoped he had the patience to
Similar Books
