Chapter 38: Preparations

Friday, January 1, 1982

I slept late. So did Angie. And Mom. And Dad. We got up around 11am, had brunch, then goofed off.

The phone rang around 3pm. “Hello?”

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hey, Jasmine. What’s up?”

“I’m not feeling great. Just cramps and a headache. Maybe we should put off our date a few days?”

“I’ll miss you, but I hate to drag you out when you’re not feeling well. Can I do anything to help?”

“Nah. I’ve got a hot water bottle, and I took some Midol. I should be good.”

“Okay. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Will do. Love you!”

“Love you, too!”

I let Mom and Dad know I wasn’t heading out after all. Angie and I took advantage of the extra time to take down Christmas decorations. We got the lights down outside; the tree would wait a bit longer.

About 6pm the phone rang again. “Hello?”

“Hey! Steve! Happy New Year!”

“Hi, Candice! Happy New Year!”

“How’re you?”

“Back,” I said. She laughed at that. “The trip was fun. We went to Mike’s party last night, and I caught up with Jasmine some, which was good.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to 1982. It’s been exactly a year. I’m not supposed to dwell on that, but I feel great about where I am right now.”

“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. How’s Sherry?”

“Great,” she giggled. “We are ... it’s really good.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Steve. I’m happy for you about Jasmine.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, it has been exactly a year. I know how you feel, and like I said, I can’t dwell on it. But, thank you.”

“Thank you for doing the hard work. All I did was what I had to do.”

She sighed happily. “You’re welcome. Can you put Angie on?”

“Sure.” I set the phone down and looked in Angie’s room. She was playing her piano with headphones on. I waved my hand, and she looked up and took off the headphones. “Candice is on the phone. She wants to say hi.”

“Thanks, Steve!”

I went back and hung up the phone after I heard Angie get on the call.

Sunday, January 3, 1982

Study group was, essentially, New Year’s Party part 2. No one wanted to study anything until classes got started. People took naps, we played games, and everyone piled into the hot tub. It was amusing, thinking about it. The first time we’d skinny-dipped in the hot tub, it’d been nighttime and dark out, with relatively minimal lights. Here we were pretty much in daylight, naked, no one too concerned, nor worried if Rita got a look.

No, I didn’t mention any of that. A few of the people who’d forgotten to be shy might remember they had formerly had reservations about this. But it was still amusing to me.

After study group and dinner, Angie and I both got busy rounding up judges for the tournament. Last I’d checked, we were still a couple dozen short.

Monday, January 4, 1982

School was still out. With the other party, we’d decided not to do anything big. Dad was back to work and Mom ran to the store, prompting Angie to decide we needed a shower together. After that, we packed up the Christmas tree and shoved all the heavy boxes back up into the attic. We were both tired and a bit dirty by the time we’d finished that, but Mom was home, so no second shared shower.

In the evening we started the new Dance and Movement class. Our instructor, Ms. Renee, was tiny — barely Nancy-sized. I hesitated to guess her age; she could be late twenties or late forties. She was in top shape, trim, athletic. Brown hair in a ponytail, what looked like no makeup but could have been very good makeup. Brown eyes. She was bursting with energy and unbelievably flexible.

She was soft-spoken but totally in command of the room. Eyes in the back of her head. She welcomed Angie and me, started doing a skills assessment at once, then set us to stretching. Stretching everything. Muscles that I’d had no idea I even had were going to be sore tomorrow.

And, at that, it was clear we were in the ‘just enough’ class. No one was going for serious ballet skills or even what you’d need to perform on Broadway. This class would give us enough foundation that, if we wanted to make the leap to more serious dance work, we could do it. If not, we’d be plenty far along for high school performances.

I thought I was going to like this class — once I stopped being sore.

Tuesday, January 5, 1982

After a warm shower I was mostly fine. I’d had visions of staggering around school with a limp or looking like a hunchback, but no, I was doing fine. In my imagination, I was already more graceful.

As school started back up, I greeted people I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever, even though it was really just two weeks. By this point my friends had clumped in several groups — the inner circle was study group plus Jasmine, then the next circle were people like Amit, who I was close to but not as close, and also Rita. Then, the next circle — the rest of Debate plus a few people in Drama. I figured that would get bigger, and some people would move into closer circles. Finally, I had a few select people who were close acquaintances I’d see daily but didn’t know very well.

Overall, I had far more close friends than the first go-round. At this point the first time, being honest, I had one close friend — Dave Mayrink. After that, I had the D&D group — somewhere between distant friends and close acquaintances — and some close acquaintances at school. Some.

And, of course, all of this didn’t count Angie, who was now central to my life. I couldn’t even imagine not having her around. Sometimes I thought of first-life memories and had to remind myself that she hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen that, didn’t know them. By now, the thought of something significant that Angie didn’t know was nearly unfathomable.

Then there are people I didn’t know how to count, exactly. How did Mom and Dad count? They weren’t ‘friends,’ but we were closer this time than before. I knew and understood them better and took them for granted less. I realized all the things they were doing because I’d been a parent myself. I couldn’t reveal that, but I could show them how much I appreciated them.

And what to make of Dr. Stanton? She wasn’t exactly a friend, but she wasn’t exactly not a friend. Which, really, is what a therapist has to be — they need to get into your innermost circle while staying detached enough to not follow you down your particular rabbit hole and give you expert advice no matter what. But what we’d be asking her to understand and deal with? If I didn’t think of her as partly — mostly — a friend, I don’t see how I could share that with her.

So, of course, the bottom line was this: I had people. Lots of people, special people, people I cared about, people who cared about me. People I trusted with my life, and people who I knew trusted me with theirs.

It was a fantastic feeling.

Study group was another goof-off session. Naps, hot tub, swimming, games. We all knew it wouldn’t last.

Towards the end, Rita brought out a cake for Mike’s birthday. He blew out the candles and made a wish after we sang ‘Happy Birthday’. I’m pretty sure Sarah had something for him, too, if the look in her eyes was any guide. That, or them slipping off shortly thereafter.

Wednesday, January 6, 1982

More dance and movement; more soreness. I knew we were just scratching the surface. Angie was into it, I could tell. I was too, but she had more of a feel for it than I did, at least so far.

Thursday, January 7, 1982

I’d reluctantly had to tell Jasmine that we couldn’t do any Thursday dates because of the shift in Karate nights. Our dropping to one night didn’t please Sensei Ken, but he could see that we had no choice at all. Half the Fridays and Saturdays were out. Sunday was out. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were out. What else could we do?

Friday, January 8, 1982

No tournament, so Jasmine and I would finally have a date, and it would involve Pho King at least. I simply met her after class. I’d be her ride home.

And, apparently, Lexi’s, too. Jasmine was holding hands with Lexi when I got over to the Drama room. Both of them were smirking. And Angie, who went past, spotted them and added a smirk of her own.

I smiled to Jasmine and offered her my arm. She took it with a laugh. Lexi let go of Jasmine’s hand but followed us to my car. I opened the front passenger door, and they both hopped in, Jasmine in the middle.

I climbed in and got us on our way to the restaurant. Jasmine laughed. “Surprised?”

I shrugged. “You said you might invite a friend along. And, by the way — hi, Lexi!”

She snickered. “Hi Steve! Thanks for taking me.”

Jasmine whispered something in her ear that got Lexi giggling. I was pretty sure I could guess what it might be.

“Good first week of classes?”

They both nodded. Lexi grinned a bit. “Nervous first week. Steffie will announce roles next week! I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” Jasmine added. “And I imagine you and Angie are curious, too.”

“We know we’ll be in the chorus.”

“Yeah,” Lexi said with a grin. “But you don’t know which part you’ll be understudying. That might be more important for each of you.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “That’s really your audition for the next show. If it’s a strong role, you can prove you’re up to it. A weak role doesn’t mean as much; it could mean Steffie doesn’t think you’re ready, but it could also mean she has no confidence in the person you’re understudying. The expectation is that she’s got more confidence in whoever she picked for it first, but that gets ... complicated.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine said. “Happened that way last year. A couple seniors got relatively minor roles, because, well, they’d been there. And were good at some things. But a couple of strong freshmen got to understudy, and one of them wound up in the role at all but one performance.”

“She means me,” Lexi giggled. “Not that it was that much of a coup. I played ‘Ellen’, who doesn’t do all that much. Sings, dances, but it’s as part of an ensemble. Kim played her the night her parents came to the show; I covered all the other performances.”

I nodded. “Interesting. I hope she wasn’t mad.”

“Nah. Kim got to claim she had the role, which is good for her, but her heart wasn’t in it. I don’t think she’ll do much more theater, unless the bug bites her again later, but her parents got to see her perform one last time. Where, for me, got more experience than I’d have expected as a freshman.”

“This year’s interesting,” Jasmine added. “‘Oklahoma!’ really only has about five major characters of each gender. There are a bunch more named characters, like Ellen, but they’re not so critical. ‘Brigadoon’ has six female characters, plus chorus, but twelve male characters. That’s a lot! We have eleven guys in the core performing Drama group, but there are other periods, so that doesn’t mean you get a name part. But you might. Or it’s possible Steffie will swap a gender somewhere. For instance, a girl could easily play Frank, the bartender.”

“Makes sense. I don’t remember there being anything very gender-specific there. It’d be funny to swap a lead character, but it might scandalize some parents.” I grinned a bit.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Lexi chuckled. “Mine would be fine, but I know some that would go ballistic if you had two guys or two girls involved romantically.”

Jasmine giggled. “Yours know better!”

“Hey, just because my big sister got caught in bed with her girlfriend...” I pulled up to the restaurant. Lexi grinned and changed tacks. “Yay! I love Pho King!”

“Dare you to shout that in the second-floor hall!” Jasmine grinned.

“Not my fault if people don’t understand how to pronounce restaurant names. Besides, just because I like Pho King doesn’t mean I’d go for some Pho King with them.”

“But you’re fine with Pho King with Steve.”

“Oh, definitely.” She gave me a big grin. We all got out, went in, and ordered. Lexi and Jasmine made more than a few jokes about ‘meat’. And about things being ‘hot and wet’.

Once we sat, Jasmine got a bit more serious. “So, look, we’re not just assuming you’re good with this.”

Lexi nodded. “Or that I am,” she giggled and winked. “I’m pretty sure I am, but, you know...”

“Only the two of you can decide. I can invite, but that’s all,” Jasmine said.

I nodded. “I think ... I’m pretty sure I am, too, but, well ... you know, whatever helps you get to know what you’re feeling will probably help me, too.”