Someday You'll Laugh (3 page)

I’d tear open the letter, read it, and then write back. It was the perfect ritual and I loved the sense of security it gave me. One day, Greg’s letter was longer than usual. After the first paragraph, I jolted upright and my reading slowed to a crawl.

They need
one more soprano
in the Lady’s Light Ensemble. I thought about you. How would you like to live in California? You’d love the school. And we could be together.
No more long distance crud.
I already asked
the director,
and he’ll grant
you an audition.
The ensemble performs across the country. It’s a big deal and comes with a
nice
scholarship.
You
might want
to fly down because
auditions are only
available
next week. What do you think?

I jumped off my bed and shot down the stairs straight to the kitchen where Mom was wiping dishwashing suds off her arm.

“Can I go to California?”

She threw the dishrag onto the counter. “What are you talking about?”

I flapped Greg’s letter in front of her face. “I can try out for an ensemble and transfer colleges. If I make it, I get a scholarship.”

Mom took off her apron and slung it over the back of a kitchen chair. “How much scholarship?”

“I don’t know. Do you think I should go?”

Lower Columbia College slipped completely out of my heart as I dreamed of joining Greg. It could be wonderful, and if I were down there, we could call off this whole seeing-other-people nonsense. Things could be like they were before.

I also wouldn’t have to deal any further with Paul the Arrogant.

When I had applied for college the spring of my senior year in high school, I hadn’t considered going to California. The out-of-state tuition was too high, but with a scholarship, it might be doable.

Mom pulled out a kitchen chair and sat. “You couldn’t drive to Southern California alone and neither your dad nor I can take you.”

“I know, but I could fly.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “You’ve never flown before, and I’m not sure you need to start now.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Her pursed lips moved from side to side like a slow waltz. “I’ll speak with your dad, and in the meantime, you can find out how much a ticket costs.”

In Mom language, that was a go. I gave her a quick hug. “I can pay for the ticket. I’ve got money saved.”

I raced to my room to write Greg and tell him to set it up. I was coming.

****

By Friday, all arrangements had been made. I was to fly out on Sunday afternoon and audition on Tuesday morning. I had set up a practice session with Paul for three o’clock on Friday, which was perfect timing. I needed to practice before my audition and accompanying myself had never worked well. I had chosen two songs — both of them from high school choir the previous year.

When I arrived to practice, Paul was waiting at the entrance of the rehearsal room. He leaned against the door frame and watched me approach. His eyes roamed up and down my outfit. At first, I worried I’d spilled a blob of food goo down my shirt, but then my cheeks grew warm as realization dawned. He was admiring me. No matter. Soon I wouldn’t be around, and he’d never see me flush hot again. I’d be tucked safely away in California with Greg.

“Hey, Greg’s girlfriend, how’s it going?” His voice was smooth, yet I could sense an underlying excitement.

“The name is Brenda.”

“Okay then,
Greg’s Girlfriend Brenda
. How’s it going?”

He was teasing me now, and I was surprised to find I wanted to join him.

“Maybe I should be calling you So-and-so’s Boyfriend Paul? Seems only fair.”

He took a step forward and his blue eyes were playful. “Nope. Nobody’s boyfriend.” He ushered me into the rehearsal room with a gallant sweep of his hand.

“You were fishing, I assume?” he asked, sitting on the bench and scooting himself up to the piano.

“Fishing?”

He twisted around, looked at me over his shoulder, and winked. “Trying to find out if I have a girlfriend.”

I stepped back. “Hardly! Whoa, you’re conceited.” But of course, he was right — I had been fishing. I did want to know if he was attached — a senseless move because I’d be leaving soon, probably for good.

I shook my head in what I hoped looked like disgust. “I don’t even like to fish. I need you to help me with these two songs.”

Paul looked at the music. “These aren’t songs from your lesson.”

“I know. I’m trying out for an ensemble in California, and these are my audition pieces.”

Paul shifted on the bench and stared at me. “An ensemble in California? That’s quite a commute isn’t it?”

I smiled, but for some reason my heart didn’t join in. “If I make it, I’ll be moving.”

He nodded with slow deliberation. “Moving, huh? Well, that is news.”

“Greg attends there, so it makes sense.”

“But it didn’t make sense earlier when you enrolled here and not there?”

“Getting into this ensemble means a sizable scholarship.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, I see. It’s the money.”

The way he said it, I felt like I needed to defend myself. “It’s not the money. I want to be with my boyfriend. As I said, it makes perfect sense.”

As the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was lying. It was the money. Being with Greg was part of it, but I hadn’t made any big effort to follow him south before the scholarship came along.

We glared at each other in silence. Then Paul scooted over on the bench to make room for me. “Sit here. You’ll be able to see the music better.”

I sat down, and his closeness made my heart quiver. Our faces were only inches apart. He gazed at me with such intimacy I involuntarily scooted backward and nearly fell off the bench.

“Maybe I shouldn’t sit since I’ll be standing for the audition.” I scrambled to get up. My legs shook and for a brief second, I thought I was going to fall right on top of him.

“Whatever you say.” Paul turned to the music and his hands slid over the keyboard with smooth grace. He was the best pianist I’d ever heard, and I became mesmerized as I watched his strong fingers play over the keys like a caress.

I botched my entrance and Paul stopped and swiveled around to me. “You missed your cue.”

“I know, sorry. Can you start again?” A shudder passed through me. Why was I so flustered? I’d already sung in front of him. I was being ridiculous.

“After practice, do you want to run over to McDonald’s for french fries?” he asked.

I blinked at him, my mind trying to switch gears. “French fries?”

“Do you want to go to McDonald’s?”

“With you?”

“Of course with me. What did you think?”

“Sure,” I answered, and then I moved right into scolding mode. Whatever this was with Paul had to stop; it was getting out of hand.

He patted the bench again. “Come, sit back down.”

My mind raced ahead. Greg
had
said we should see other people. Yet eating french fries with someone hardly classified as seeing other people. After all, a person had to eat; it was a simple necessity.

I was fine. Nothing to worry about at all.

Chapter Three

But I did worry — all the way to McDonald’s. The restaurant was located fairly close to the Fine Arts Building so we walked. The air was crisp and I pulled my sweater closer around my neck. Walking so near to Paul, I felt stupid with my hands hanging like limp fish at my sides so I grabbed each shoulder strap of my backpack and held on. Paul glanced over at me.

“Too heavy? You want me to take it?”

“No, it’s fine.”

We kept walking, both of us quiet and avoiding each other’s eyes. Being in close proximity in a music room and being in close proximity in the open air were two different things. I felt anxious and awkward. It was a relief to enter McDonald’s and be in the middle of the afternoon crowd. Paul paid for two orders of french fries and two sodas.

I slid into a booth and he joined me with our food.

“You’re flying to California?” he asked.

“It’s too far for me to drive alone.”

“I’ll drive with you,” he offered, and I almost dropped my soda. When I looked into his eyes again, I saw he was joking.

“In your dreams, mister,” I said, knowing how stupid I sounded and how stupid I felt. Did he realize I’d believed him for a nano-second?

“I’ve never flown,” he said.

“Me neither. I’m kind of nervous.”

He took a long french fry out of the cardboard container and dipped it into his mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise. “You’ll do fine. It’ll probably only take a couple hours to get there.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“How long will you be gone?” His eyes were down, and he made a big production of squeezing another ketchup package into his glob of dip.

I saw the tension in his jaw.

“A week. Not long.”

His blue eyes flashed up at me, and the intensity there made me squirm. “You going to write?”

“To you?”

“Of course to me. I might disintegrate if I don’t hear from you.” His tone was joking, but his face was serious.

“Wouldn’t be appropriate now, would it?” I crammed a handful of fries into my mouth nearly choking myself. The wad of salty potatoes stuck in my throat, and I took a gulp of soda. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation and every inch of my being told me to get up and flee.

Paul remained silent. I kept my eyes on my food, but I could feel him staring at me. I ate the rest of my fries like I was in an eating competition. The sooner I finished, the sooner I could excuse myself and get out of there. Within three minutes, I was done. Most of Paul’s fries still lay on the tray.

“I’m ready to go.” I scooted off the bench and stood.

He studied my face for a minute, picked up the tray, and joined me. “Fine. Let’s go.” He dumped the rest of his fries in the garbage.

****

Dad drove me to the airport on Sunday afternoon and came with me while I got checked in.

“Okay, Dad, I’m all set.” I hoisted my bag higher onto my shoulder.

“Be safe,” he said and kissed me on the cheek. “We’ll miss you.”

He walked toward the parking garage and gave me a wave before disappearing through the revolving door. I waved back and turned to make my way to the gate. I’d been worried I wouldn’t know what to do or where to go, but I followed a cluster of travelers through security and into the concourse. From there, finding B6 was easy. After I’d settled in at the gate, I pulled Greg’s graduation photo out of my pocket. He’d given me a five-by-seven and also the wallet-sized copy I had with me. I stared at his image and into his smiling eyes.

“I’ll be there in a couple hours,” I whispered.

The man seated to my left in the waiting area shifted with a loud cough. I shoved the photo back into my pocket. He probably thought I had a screw loose to be talking to a picture.

Before long, we were on board and all buckled in safely. I sat in the window seat and kept my face pressed against the plastic pane through take-off and the initial ascent. Once the plane leveled out, I closed my eyes and leaned on the headrest. I fought with the seat belt to get Greg’s photo out of my pocket again, but when I cradled it against my chest, it wasn’t Greg’s image I visualized.

It was Paul’s face, Paul’s blue eyes, Paul’s hands on the piano that filled my mind. I reached under the seat in front of me and grabbed my purse. I took out the pad of paper inside and a pen.

Dear Paul,

Well, I’m writing to you as
requested. I’m in the air right now. The houses were like teeny specks
when we
went
up. It
was
pretty cool. I think you’d like it up here.

Was I deluding myself into thinking I knew what Paul would or wouldn’t like? Wow, when had we become so intimate? I laid my pen on my lap. With a sudden move, I ripped the page out of the notebook, wadded it into a tight ball, and crammed it in my pocket.

Enough of Paul. This trip was about me and Greg and singing and a scholarship.

Flying was amazing. In less than three hours, I disembarked in California. I followed the signs to baggage and saw Greg waiting with a huge welcoming smile and wide-open arms.

“You’re here!” he called. I ran to him and he twirled me around. When he set me down, he gave me a lingering kiss. “Wow, you look good.”

“So do you.” I squeezed his arm.

“Let’s take you to your new home.” He turned to the carousel. “What’s your suitcase look like?”

“Blue and yellow. And it’s not my new home yet, Greg. Let’s not jump the gun.”

“They’ll hear you sing, they’ll love you, and they’ll give you the scholarship. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal.” The pride on his face made my insides shudder.

Being there with him in California made me want to keep shuddering.

I shook my head, shoved down the uneasiness inside, and walked with him out of the airport and into the sparkling California sunlight. We threw my bag into the back of Don’s clunker, climbed into the front seat, and rattled all the way to campus.

****

Tuesday came too soon. I’d managed to work myself into a major tizzy as I waited for my turn to sing. Sweat dripped down my sides underneath my carefully ironed red dress. Greg sat with me in the vestibule tapping his foot like a wild man.

I reached over and clenched his leg. “Stop tapping. You’re making me crazy.”

“Sorry. I’m stopping. I know there’s no reason to be nervous.”

There was plenty of reason, but I didn’t see how discussing it would help. I checked my watch for the hundredth time. Four more minutes.

The door opened and a student with red braids trailing down her back came through. She nodded at me and smiled. “Brenda? It’s your turn.”

Greg squeezed my hand and I got up to follow the girl. The room was cavernous with a high ceiling and sound panels lining each wall. I glanced at the three elderly judges and walked to a middle-aged man sitting at the piano and handed him my music.