by Sarah Pointe
The face she showed me looked…pleasant. And I was surprised by that. I don’t know what I expected from her dating app, but a nice, normal looking guy must not have been it.
“So? What did you say?”
“Nothing. I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes pleaded with mine. And even though my minutes were counting down, I scrolled through his profile. “So, he’s divorced. His kids are grown? He’s handsome.” Ew. In a grown dad kind of way. “He works as an architect? That’s cool, right?” Mom was always designing things. She had talked about going back to school to learn interior design. “You guys might have a lot in common.” I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about this epic of all changes in my mom’s life. She looked like she was feeling enough drama for the two of us.
“I know you need to get ready.”
“Are you gonna accept?”
“Should I?”
I didn’t want this to be up to me. I wanted to be the typical angry teenager about her mother dating someone else after her dad, but she was putting this in my lap. And I guess I sort of understood why, but I didn’t want it in my lap. I sighed. “Mom. This is something you’re just gonna have to decide on your own. I’m not going to like it. Trey might not like it. But I love you. So, that’s all I got, I guess. He seems like a decent person. At least from far away.”
The relief in her face made me feel grateful for all she did for me. Did she ever have a selfish thought? Watching her now, try to base her dating decisions on what would be best for me, showed me just how much she really loved me.
And I decided to love her just as much. “Mom, you do what you need to feel happy.” I pulled her in for a hug.
She hugged me extra-long and then wiped her eyes. “Okay. Maybe lunch to start.”
“I gotta get in the shower, Mom. You figure all that next bit out.”
But she hardly heard me; her face was down and she was texting something. And for a moment, I realized that she and I were not that different.
When I got out of the shower, she wasn’t in my room. Which was helpful. I threw on some clothes, ones I hoped Pete would like and perfume I thought might blend well with what he always wore. I took extra care with my makeup and my hair and finished everything just as the doorbell rang.
Jackson stood in our entry talking to my mom as I came down the stairs. He’d brought me flowers. And that should have been my first warning as to how this evening would go.
“Wow! Thank you for these.” I took the bouquet and then mom took them from me. “I’ll get these in water for you. You two need to get going if you’re gonna be back by nine.”
“Oh right. Thanks, Mom! That’s so true.” I loved that woman even more.
He held open my front door. “Shall we?”
Wow, he was even talking formal? “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”
He didn’t wear a sweater, but he looked kind of like my dad when he went to work, tan pants, tucked in collar shirt. Almost like he’d just taken off his tie.
He opened my car door. “We are meeting my parents at the country club first. They have dinner reservations.”
“Oh excellent.” My stomach growled. “I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since lunch. Thank you.”
He joined me in the car and pulled out of the driveway. Things seemed comfortable, if a bit carefully planned. “I’m really looking forward to this. Ava, I want you to enjoy this evening. It’s meant to be a thank you to you.” His eyes were on the road. “And, you know. Maybe you’ll think about dating me again?” A small smile curved on his mouth, but his eyes stuck to the road.
It felt sort of weird. What did I do with words that sounded sort of intimate, but with this guy who was acting stiff about it? And I knew that sometime tonight I’d be telling him that he and I couldn’t date any more, fake or real.
“Jackson. I’m looking forward to tonight. But you should know—”
His phone rang. “Hold that thought. I don’t usually answer my phone on dates, but this is my mom.
“We’re coming,” he said to his mom.
“They have our table ready. I guess tonight is the talent show? And we totally didn’t know that. But our table is right up front. We might be stuck there for a while.”
“That’s okay. I like talent shows.” It was like five in the afternoon. That gave us tons of time to still make it back by nine.
His thumbs tapped the steering wheel.
I could tell he was nervous about something. But I forged ahead with what I started to say. “I’ve been thinking.”
“So have I. I wonder if we’re thinking the same thing? Don’t tell me until after tonight. But I hope that maybe you’ll want to explore how to turn this from fake to real?” He finally turned to look at me for a second. And I did admire his eyes. Bright green in a rather unremarkable face still made him handsome. He was a good-looking guy, in a stiff, successful kind of way. I would probably be smart to consider a date with him, to consider accepting his offer, but there was just no comparison to Pete. Where Jackson was traditional and stuffy and successful, Pete made his success look good. Where Jackson struggled to find things to say, Pete eased the way. Where my heart literally changed rhythm when I was with Pete, Jackson was sort of a normal, comfortable experience. I sort of felt like I was going out with a cousin or something.
And our families knew each other, which I think might have contributed to the cousin vibe.
We pulled up in front of the club house. I’d never been to this one before, and it was fancy and fun and the Christmas lights were up everywhere.
He opened my door and then led me in through the front door. Lights were hanging over our heads and down all the pillars in spiral décor. The whole thing seemed magical. “This is so beautiful.”
“They do a good job.” He seemed a little uncomfortable. “I need to tell you that if they’re having the talent show, for sure my parents entered us all to be in it.”
I stopped. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah. When they found out tonight was the talent show, they entered our names. I just already know. The club doesn’t always let all entrants perform, but I’m pretty certain they will choose us.”
“Uh.” I couldn’t imagine what act we would all perform together. Hopefully they had some traditional thing they would do. And as far as I could see, this went way beyond what a typical fake date would require.
“I know. And I know we are just fake so far, but my parents don’t know that, remember?” His eyes pleaded with me. And so I just nodded. I could do whatever it took tonight because I was going to fake break up with him before it was all over. This would be the last time. A last-minute performance in a talent show had cinched that decision.
Someone directed us to double doors leading into a main ballroom. I stopped counting Christmas trees. They were everywhere, and in the center of the ballroom stood the largest, most ornate tree I’d ever seen. It was stunning in every way. Bright bundles of reds and whites filled every section of green. Lights flickered, and dangling icicles reflected the whole display. I didn’t know I had stopped walking until Jackson put his hand on the small of my back. “You coming?”
I started. “Oh, sorry. They really did a good job with all of this.”
“I think so too.” He led me past a room full of round tables to the very front table.
His parents stood and hugged me. Then we sat. And his mom leaned closer. “We are the seventh act. That’s perfect timing because we will have time to see the competition before we go up there.”
My nerves started to kick in a little bit. These people were not just entering the show, they wanted to win.
She turned to me. “Don’t you worry. We do this same act every year. And your part is easy.”
I nodded. “Okay great. ’Cause I’m not usually in talent shows.” I wanted them to know how very much I was not a performer.
“You’ll be just fine. All you have to do is sit there.”
They started talking together above
and around me, most of which I did not understand. Things like choreography and blocking and placement and whatever. At least we were the seventh act. That meant we would be done in time for me to see Pete.
The dinner started and I had to give it to this club. Elves and cartoon characters walked around from table to table, greeting the children, and then right in the middle of dessert, Santa himself stepped in.
The emcee told all the children they would have plenty of time to talk to Santa right after the chow. He would be waiting for them in Santa’s workshop on the second floor.
As I sat back and watched all the families and the fanciness of everything around me, I liked it, don’t get me wrong, and I realized that our family had missed out on a whole part of Christmas I didn’t know existed. But compared to our quiet evenings at home, this felt overly much. But the food was delicious.
When all the dessert plates had been cleared, a man in a tux took center stage. “And now for the moment you’ve been waiting for, the event of the season! We are so happy so many of you could make it even with the last-minute scheduling change.”
Jackson leaned closer. “So, we will go backstage two acts before ours and get in costume.”
“We have costumes?” Not for the first time, I second-guessed my willingness to perform with them.
“They make the whole show. And then all you have to do is sit on the throne.”
“The…throne?” This wasn’t sounding so bad.
“Right. And…enjoy.” His face turned pink. “And try not to remember anything you see on that stage.”
I laughed but then I saw he was serious. “You don’t like the show?”
“Not at all. But we always win and the kids love it and the president of the club asked, and…” He looked at his parents. “They love it.”
“I get that,” I said, thinking about what I did for my mom earlier. “Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. I’m probably gonna love this.”
His expression said he doubted I would, but our attention was redirected as the lights lowered and the first act came out on stage.
A woman, in a ball gown. The music started and she began with a super high vibrato soprano note.
Everyone around me was entranced with this woman so I assumed she was very good. But I just wasn’t into her music. It was probably Italian. And I couldn’t distinguish a difference in her notes. It just wasn’t my thing.
And it was long. I started paying attention to the time. Ten minutes and she was still singing.
As I calculated our ability to be out of there by eight thirty or even nine, we still had time, but not if every act went on forever.
Chapter 17
Every act went on forever.
The first opera lady sang for twenty-five minutes.
And then we watched a family Christmas Medley around a piano that turned into a whole room singalong. And I thought it was really fun, but that lasted another twenty minutes.
Two acts and we were nearly an hour lost.
Approaching eight o’clock, and so far we’d only watched three acts. I checked my watch again in a way that Jackson could see but he looked away.
Things were not looking good.
I wondered how long our act was.
And realized I didn’t have a ride out of there.
I couldn’t be rude to this family, either. My mother had made that clear enough.
Finally, at eight forty-five, a staff member led us through a side door and down a hallway into what was backstage. Two more acts and then we were on. With any luck, they would go quickly like the previous two had. And then our act couldn’t be that long. They had planned it in front of my eyes in less than five minutes.
Jackson led me to a movable closet rack and handed me what looked like a ballerina outfit.
“Here. This is for you. Put the crown on straight. Use pins. You’ll find them in the dressing room. And just wear bare feet.”
“Wait. You don’t want me to dance, do you?” I shook my head to emphasize what a terrible idea that might be.
“No, all you have to do is sit there. I promise.”
I nodded, slowly. “Okay.” I entered the room he pointed out and had a selfie moment in front of a lit mirror like you see on the movies where stars get ready for the show.
I sent a text to Pete. “I’m running late. But I’ll be there. Maybe give me thirty minutes.” That should do it. Then I turned off my phone and started piecing together the costume.
By the time someone knocked on my door, I was dressed, crown on straight, and ready to go.
I bit back my laugh when I saw Jackson.
“Ah, so this is the Nutcracker.” Finally some music I would recognize. “What song are we doing?”
“The entire second half.”
I choked, but before I could say anything, a man came rushing out. “You’re on! They messed up their act and left early.”
We pushed through other groups getting set up. Apparently not everyone had their own dressing rooms. And then at the edge of the stage, Jackson’s mom stepped in front of me, her face intense and about two inches from my own. “Be graceful, expectant, curious. Walk slowly out to the throne, sit there and then just watch us.”
“That’s it?”
“You’ll be perfect.”
I nodded. And then her fingers lifted my chin. “Keep your chin up. And your crown straight.”
“Got it.”
And then the music started and she hissed, “Now.”
So I walked out, like I think I’d seen ballerinas do it before. I was not a dancer, so this was totally faking the fake date in a huge way, but as soon as the light moved to me, the whole place clapped and held hands to their hearts. Wow. So this act was a hit.
I hammed it up a little bit, looking this way and that and then I sat in an ornate-looking chair dressed up as a throne. I put my hands in my lap and crossed my ankles. And waited.
The music changed.
And Jackson came leaping out onto the stage.
The audience went crazy; cheers and clapping filled that ballroom.
And I just watched. Wow, this was something.
And it never ended.
We had to be at least as long as the opera lady. But I had no way of knowing. And the longer I sat, and the longer they danced, the more I worried about Pete.
Had my mom gone out for the night?
Would anyone even be home to let him in?
This was turning into a nightmare right before my crowned eyes.
As the act continued and the hour grew later, I considered sneaking out.
Only the very real and very not-fake friends of my parents, dancing around in front of me in tights, kept me in that seat.
And did I mention tights? They bore mentioning. Jackson, his mother and his father all wore tights. And apparently, they were each excellent dancers.
And I couldn’t even knock it. Not many teenagers would appreciate them, and I was sure Jackson would rather die than have this get around the school, but they were very talented. I watched the Nutcracker every year with my grandma and these three had it down.
Every now and then I tilted my head a different direction. But mostly I stayed as still as possible and hoped no one looked at me.
The act finally ended to excited applause and a huge standing ovation. We stood together and bowed. And then bowed again, and then again. And the clapping continued.
And I needed to go.
At last, when we finally made our way off stage together, Jackson’s mother pulled me into another hug. “Thank you. You were magnificent. I think we have found our Clara, finally.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I am so impressed with your talent. That was amazing for me. Front row seat to fantastic dancing.”
“Well, we performed in it for years, until Jackson got too old really, unless he decided to be a professional dancer.”
“Which is a no.”
I wanted to laugh at his determined expression. But I just no
dded.
“So. We just keep it up at the talent show.”
Jackson’s father nodded. “The best is yet to come. They’ll be handing out awards at the end. They always give Jackson here the largest ovation. And this year, scholarship money is on the table. Plus a private tour of Heckland.”
The private university.
“Is that where you want to go?” I turned my attention to Jackson, but his mom answered. “It’s on his list, of course. We will have to see how many they are accepting this year. But you can imagine a private interview would really put him ahead.”
As soon as we were out of earshot of his parents, he groaned. “I’m sorry. You needed to get out of here at nine.”
“What time is it?”
He winced. “Nine forty-five.”
“What!” I started to panic. “I’ve got to go, now.”
His face went white. “But you heard my parents. We have to stay for the end. If I don’t accept the award, they’ll give it to someone else.”
I closed my eyes. “Maybe I can get someone to pick me up.”
“Okay.” He leaned forward and hugged me in a stiff, I-don’t-know-how-to-hug-all-of-a-sudden way, and then he left me at the door to my dressing room.
I rushed in and reached for my phone. It wasn’t where I thought I’d left it on the counter.
Leaning down to peer under the table, it wasn’t there either.
I reached for my pile of clothes. They were gone.
Then I looked more closely at the room. It was not the same space. Or at least, the props and costumes that had been in there earlier, were not anymore.
I ran to the door and peered down the hall. No staff members in sight.
Every door down the white hallway looked the same. Still in my bare feet, I stopped the nearest group. “Do they clean out the dressing rooms in between acts?”
“Oh hey! It’s Clara!” The woman I approached was friendly. She was being much more polite than I had been, but I didn’t have time for the small talk.
“Hey. Yeah. I’m in a bit of a panic because my clothes and phone and things are missing from the room I was in.”