揌ey angel, you doing okay here??Meyer抯 voice finds me as his hand presses into my back, and I turn to see him glaring daggers at Pete. 揚ete. Riley抯 about to head onstage. You抮e going to miss it.?
Our dear Pete remains completely unaware. Clueless as to the emotional grenade he抯 just pulled the pin from. 揂h. Okay. See you guys.?He says with a pointedly dumb smile and wave. Hope your pillow is always hot, Pete.
Meyer抯 eyes lower to mine, then. 揥hat the fuck did he say to you??He seethes.
揘othing that I didn抰 already think myself, My. It抯 okay. He抯 stupid, but meant no harm.?
揗eant or not, if there抯 harm we抮e going to address it.?
揙h, are we now??I raise a brow. He raises one back. 揘o harm here,?I say, blinking lazily, wishing my mind was like one of those View Master toys I had as a kid. I抎 simply click away from that last picture, focus on the next one. The one that抯 right before me and the one that抯 coming up on that stage soon. I smile.
揧ou know you have the best smile? It抯 really hard not to automatically smile back, even when it抯 one of your sadder ones.?Meyer says.
It抯 almost an audible thing, really, the way my heart punches against the bones in my chest. It抯 like the drum solo in that fucking Phil Collins song, it becomes so all-consuming. 揗aybe you shouldn抰 fight it so hard, then.?He just nods in response, his head swiveling down as he steps even closer.
揑？I didn抰 think about people being here and asking you about?about us. Or trying to take more pictures or anything,?I say.
His frown snaps up to my face. 揇on抰 worry about that, Fee. It抯 in the contract for the school and for their dance program. Too many other famous people抯 kids go here for them to be lax on those things. It won抰 be an issue.?
揙h. Okay. Okay good.?I suppose that posturing must抳e been just to put Pete in his place, then?
揧ou ready to head in??
揧ep.?
He lays out an arm and holds open the door with the other for me. As I pass him and step into the darkened room, his free hand slips up to the back of my neck and lightly presses as we walk. He keeps me close to his side this way, I feebly try to tell myself. It抯 just to guide us to our seats. It抯 not a possessive hold. It抯 a practical one.
It抯 for show. It抯 in case anyone抯 watching.
But it抯 difficult to see anything outside of the illuminated stage in this room.
No one would be able to see the way his thumb lightly traces the knobs of my spine there.
No one would be able to see the way his arm dangles over his armrest and onto my seat, either. The way his knuckles trace the skin of my thigh every so often throughout the show. The way I lean to the side to get closer, until the outside of my breast touches the side of his bicep.
Even if they were all looking this way, they抎 surely miss how he looks down at me and smiles, mouths 搕hank you?silently after Hazel抯 contemporary solo moves me to tears.
They wouldn抰 see the way he leans down to kiss my cheek, or the way I shamelessly turn into it at the last second so that it lands on the corner of my mouth. How, in the dim lighting, I see one of my tears glisten on his bottom lip, and the tip of his tongue as it darts out across it.
No, no one else could see that but us.
16
NOW
揥hen humor works, it works because it's clarifying what people already feel. It has to come from someplace real.?- Tina Fey
FARLEY
I抦 a woman distracted.
A woman on the brink of my truest vision of success, and yet one who can抰 seem to think up a joke to save my life.
Anytime I attempt it, my mind wanders to Meyer. To the way he looked when Marissa and I joined him and Hazel on Thanksgiving. The house was warm, with music on full blast as we walked in. We抎 knocked, but weren抰 heard over the volume. He never has music going on continually in the house, let alone blaring like that. I抳e always assumed this was just a byproduct of having his only other cohabitant unable to hear, of course. Still, it caught Marissa and I both off guard when we let ourselves in, only to find them dancing in the kitchen. What caught us more off guard was how, when he saw us standing there, wearing dumbfounded expressions, he wasn抰 at all deterred.
He抎 been wearing a simple black t-shirt, a dish towel slung over his shoulder and a toothpick in his teeth, and kept right on singing into a turkey baster microphone.
I抣l start working on a vaguely food-related bit and my mind will veer off to the way the tendons and muscles in his forearms worked as he chopped the celery, onions, and apples for stuffing that day. Or to the way he抎 roll the toothpick to the other side of his mouth with his tongue occasionally as he spoke. To the way he stood behind me at the sink as I struggled to peel a potato, wrapped his palms around mine to demonstrate 搃t抯 just a matter of applying the right pressure, and then it slides easily, see??
I抣l be attempting to write a joke on how men are babies, but then Meyer抯 concerned face will project itself in my brain. The way he抎 jumped up when I clumsily grazed my wrist against the hot burner on the stove. I can still feel the way he blew on the burn, the way he applied a bandaid with a feather-light touch.
Then there are some things I find I can work with, but in their inception they抮e a tiny grain of truth that I抦 then forced to embellish based on my observations of other people抯 relationships and conversations. Like how I start an entire piece on being suspicious of your significant other抯 happiness梐ll based on how even Marissa is picking up on the changes in his demeanor, and how she goes on high alert because of it. Some hug, or a few extra grins slide out of him and I抣l catch her squinted, smug gaze as she mouths what the fuck at me from behind his back. Granted, her suspicions lean toward him wanting more from our arrangement than him hiding something bad, but still.
It makes me think about normal, real relationships and people wondering if their partners have some other motivation when they seem extra attentive. Perhaps they抮e amping up to ask about butt stuff, or planning a trip with their parents? Maybe they took out a credit card and racked up some debt they neglected to share?
It抯 the hardest I抳e ever had to work to try and be funny, and ironically, it抯 the depth of that endeavor that has me questioning if it抯 even any good or not. Like if I dig too far, or just a foot off of where I need to, I抣l find shit instead of treasure.
This is just the beginning of where I start to unravel.
It抯 officially the day of the football game, the first scheduled 揺vent?where all three of us?Kara, Shauna, and I?will be together prior to the pre-tour-tour. I抎 flown in last night, fully prepared for a night on the town, three funny females taking San Francisco by storm?and ended up in the hotel alone and asleep before seven PM. Shauna was with Tyson, and Kara was at home. Meyer flew in this morning, not wanting to be gone from Hazel any more than necessary before the extended trip.
When he emerges from his Uber at the curb, his breath curls in the chilly air, stern face held tight. An angry dragon forced from his lair.
揥as your driver rude or something??I call out, and the change in his expression when he finds me has my ears pulling back, has me swallowing a stupid chuckle.
In just a few of his long strides he抯 there, less than a foot from me. 揑t was the opposite, actually,?he says. 揝he talked the entire time. We took a selfie for her niece, Willow, who抯 an undergrad at Cal Berkeley, with a roommate named Kale. She told me she asked Kale if he liked spinach and I had to pretend to laugh at that, Fee.?His chin dips meaningfully and I snort. 揝he kept trying to maintain eye contact through the mirror while she spoke instead of focusing on the road. Her brother, Raul梂illow抯 Dad, in case you were wondering梚s getting married for the fourth time next Summer and Marcia, my driver, has a lot of feelings about it.?