Part 1.2

We sit inside a classy hipster café called the Wilde Roast. I drink a small coffee; she eats a large salad and talks about the background music. I don’t say much.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re being really quiet.”

“Sorry.”

We sit in silence for a few moments.

“I’m excited for the play tonight,” I say.

“I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it.”

”I hope so.”

I catch her eyeing the desserts and smile. “Still hungry?”

“Oh God,” she drops her fork on her empty plate. “That shit looks so good.”

I stand up and offer to buy her something.

“No no no no no,” she stands. “I’ll get it myself.”

“No, come on, I said I would buy you dinner and you didn’t let me.”

“When did you say that?”

“A while ago.”

“Stop it.”

“I did! When I bought the bus tickets. Whatever, doesn’t matter, let me get this.”

She sits down. “Stupid.”

I buy her a large, fruity dessert in a big coffee cup after she begrudgingly points it out. She makes me try a bite. It’s pretty awful. She grimaces after tasting it, but finishes it quickly.

“That was gross,” she says outside.

“So gross.”

“I ate the whole thing.”

“You sure did.”

We hop on a bus that takes us onto campus and we walk toward the theatre building. It’s dark outside, and quiet. A few people are walking about, but mostly it’s quiet. She sees some people she knows and yells at them waving. They yell back and we keep moving.

Visiting friends that go to real college always makes me a little sad. Nostalgic for the classic college experience I’ll never really have.

It’s cold and wet outside. My choice of footwear for this visit was less than exemplary, and crocs squeak and squish around as we walk. I’ve rolled my pant legs up to my knees to prevent them for getting anymore soaked.

A walking sight-gag, we tromp through campus. Me, a giant in my size-too-small suit jacket and homemade man-pries, and her, less than half my size in her six-sizes-too-big acrylic fur hat and huge, hipster Ray band spectacles.

We arrive at the theatre building, a giant concrete building three stories tall housing at least 8 different theatres. Around every corner she’s introducing me to people whose names I’ve forgotten before they’re even mentioned.

We plow our way through pockets of peers until we arrive at the Ready Room, a brightly lit room with walls made of mirrors and row upon row of hot yellow lights. I am introduced to Maddy Riley, her newfound identical twin soul mate. The two hop around and giggle at some newfound revelation about another thing that makes them hopelessly the same.

I shake hands with a few more people and she pats me on the head and moves to the changing room to get into costume. I step outside to get some fresh air and sneak a cigarette.

When I return someone I may or may not have met earlier tells me she is looking for me. I peak my head into the Ready Room and she is sitting at a mirror putting on her makeup.

“Someone’s not here yet,” she says. Call was a half hour ago.

“Uh oh,” I say.

“Yeah, what the fuck.” She drops her make up and looks at me.

“I swear to God,” says Addie, a large, loud, tech girl with bad teeth and big hair. “If she walks through that door within the next two minutes I will be genuinely glad to see her for once.”

“That’s mean,” she says.

“I’m serious,” says Addie. “I will, for once, be happy to see her.”

“That’s still a mean thing to say.”

I sit down next to her. “Everything’ll be cool. The show doesn’t start for another half hour. I’ll go get my seat and see you after the show.”

“Okay.”

We hug.

“Good luck. But not good luck. But good luck.”

“Thanks.”

I go upstairs to the theatre and get my ticket. The seats are tiny and I have to bunch my knees up to my chin. I pass the time by reading the program over and over. I want to check the time, but my phone is still lost and I don’t feel like asking a neighbor.

Soon, a man walks out onto the stage holding a clip board which he reads from.

“Ladies and gentleman, we apologize for the delay. Due to an unfortunate accident, a cast member has not shown up for the performance and we are unable to go forward with tonight’s show. If you would like to wait five minutes we will have the box office open and ready to offer any ticket exchanges or refunds on your way out. We apologize again for the inconvenience.”

Oh no.

I go back to the Ready Room. She’s not there, but Joe, an older student with a big beard and silly hat tells me she’ll be down shortly. I ask if they’ve heard anything from the missing cast member, and he tells me they still have no idea where she is.

I sit down and wait.

She comes through the door, her hair braided into cute pig-tails and make-up smeared around her eyes. She is crying and walks slowly toward me with her head down.

“I’m sorry…”

“Why?”

“You came all this way to see the show…”

“It’s okay.” I pull her into me for a hug and she sniffles.

“This is stupid.”

I don’t say anything.

“I’m really sorry…”

“Not your fault.”

She pulls away from the hug and wipes her eyes.

“Okay, I’m over it.” She smiles. “Let me go change.”

She does. When she returns she sits down next to me.

“Now what?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I think we’re just waiting to see if we hear anything.”

We walk upstairs and sit on a big puffy bench.

“I hope she’s not dead,” she says.

“Me too.”

The next hour is spent wandering around the theatre building, pockets of kids standing around speculating about what happened. She tells the story over and over about how I came all the way from Chicago to see this show, and people express a polite amount of sympathy then continue on with their conversations.

Soon the stage manager gets a call. The actress is fine, she collapsed in her room and just woke up. She’s on her way to the hospital now.

Quickly, the mood changes. Relief spreads through the room. People begin talking about a meeting/party at Jeff’s house.

I don’t know who Jeff is, but it looks like we’re going to his party.

“But I don’t’ want you to get bored,” she says.

“I’m not gonna get bored.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m doing whatever you’re doing, kiddo.”

“Okay. Let’s go have some fun, I guess.”

“Okay.”