Second Time Around

by Nancy Moser

  Mr. Dobbins clapped. “Excellent! That’s the way. Let’s take ten, then come back and start on act one, scene four—the street scene.”

  Lane spotted Toby sitting in the back of the auditorium. She waved and went to see him. She leaned down and kissed him before sitting beside him. “What a nice surprise.”

  He shrugged but didn’t say anything.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He rested his elbows on the armrests and clasped his hands. He studied his fingers, seeming to avoid her eyes. “You’re amazing. You’re good. Really good.”

  It was rare praise indeed, because Toby never said much about her acting, usually giving her compliments in bland three-word bursts, such as “That was nice,” or “I liked it.”

  Yet there was something about his tone that made her long for the bland comments. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing?”

  He looked toward the stage, where the crew was messing with a backdrop of Juliet’s garden. “I lied to you before.”

  “Which before are you talking about?”

  “When I told you not to go to the movie audition because I didn’t want you to be hurt. That was a lie.”

  “What’s the truth?”

  He finally looked at her, turned toward her, taking her hand. “Watching you up there… the whole world can see how good you are. And those Hollywood people would see it, too, which is why I didn’t want you to go.”

  “Because I can act?”

  “Because you’d win the part. I was afraid. I knew you had a shot and I didn’t want to lose you. I was being totally selfish.”

  It was easy to zip over the selfish part and zero in on the fact that Toby believed in her. He believed in her talent.

  She slipped her hand around his arm and leaned close enough to kiss him again. And again.

  She felt good. She’d made the right choice. For how could she ever leave this marvelous boy? Her destiny was here. With him.

  After Toby left, Lane remained at the back of the auditorium. The actors onstage were deep in the street scene when she felt a tap on her shoulder from the row behind.

  “Grandma!” She lowered her voice when Mr. Dobbins turned around. “What are you doing here?”

  Grandma crooked a finger at her and they went into the hall. “Is everything all right?”

  “’Lantic Ocean, child. Can’t a grandmother come see her talented granddaughter at work?”

  “You can, but you haven’t before this.”

  “That’s because I have a surprise. You and I are going on a trip.

  “A trip? Where?”

  “Chicago.”

  “Why?”

  Grandma pulled a piece of paper from her purse. It was a fax from the Hollywood casting company that was handling the Empty Promises auditions. There was a list of towns.

  Grandma pointed at the word Chicago. “There’s an audition in Chicago tomorrow. And we’re going. I’m driving you.”

  Lane stared at the sheet. “I’d never thought of going to another town in another state.”

  “Well, I did. And you’re going.” She held her chin. “You will do this. You will know. You will have no regrets. Not if I can help it.”

  Lane hugged her. “I can’t believe you thought of—” She pulled back. “I can’t go. I have rehearsal.”

  Grandma pointed toward the auditorium. “I took care of it. Had a nice chat with your Mr. Dobbins this morning. He says you can go. He wants you to go.”

  This couldn’t be real. People didn’t get second chances like this.

  Then her elation was brought up short when she thought of Toby.

  “Toby doesn’t have anything to say about this,” Grandma said.

  Lane hadn’t realized she’d said his name aloud. Hadn’t she just decided he was her destiny? Now destiny’s door had been flung open and everything could change. Everything.

  Grandma slipped her hand through her arm. “You quit thinking of Dawson, child. You quit thinking about life here at all. Though this life is wonderful, it’s not for everyone. It’s not for you. You belong in Hollywood or on Broadway. Movies, TV, the stage. Who knows? You will. Because you will have taken every chance to get there. God likes hard work, and He appreciates people who use the gifts He’s given them. That’s all you’re doing, Lane. Making God proud.” She smiled. “And me, too. Me, too.”

  Lane pulled Grandma into another hug. “You’re too good to me.”

  “I know. And you owe me at least two lemon cakes and a batch of molasses cookies.”

  “The doctor says you’re not supposed to have sweets.”

  “What does he know?” She popped Lane on the behind. “Now get back to your rehearsal, but get home as soon as you can. You need a good night’s sleep. We’re leaving early.”

  Brandy plopped onto Lane’s bed, pulling the teal teddy bear into her lap. “I wish I could go with you.”

  “Me, too.” Lane stood at her closet. She pulled out a red top and a green one and held them for Brandy to inspect. “Which one should I wear? The character I’m auditioning for is innocent, yet pretends to be sleazy because that’s what people expect of her.”

  “The red, definitely the red. But try it on so I can see for sure.”

  Lane put on the top, pairing it with black pants. She looked in the mirror. It looked nice. It made her look—

  Suddenly she remembered the image she’d had a few days ago. The image of herself, in a red top—

  “What’s wrong?” Brandy asked. “I think it looks perfect.”

  Lane pulled it over her head. “I can’t wear it.”

  “Can’t?”

  She put on the green shirt.

  “I repeat: can’t?”

  “I had a vision of myself crying in front of judges, wearing a red shirt.”

  “Good crying or bad crying?”

  “What?”

  Brandy tossed aside the teddy bear. “Were you crying because you’d blown it or because they’d just said you had the part?”

  Lane sat at the foot of the bed. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you ever messed up an audition? Ever?”

  “Well… no.”

  “Then you need to wear the red shirt so you can cry your tears of joy when they offer you the part.”

  “Always the optimist. Always thinking—”

  Suddenly Lane saw a new flash, and the image of frizzy-haired Brandy pulsed and merged with the memory of another Brandy: a heavier Brandy with short Dutch-boy hair.

  She whipped her head around, seeing her bedroom as if for the first time. The teal and fuchsia bedspread, the teddy bear Toby had won for her at the state fair, her homework sitting on the desk by the window.

  Homework? She hadn’t done homework in over fifteen years.

  “Lane? You zoning out on me again?”

  She turned back to Brandy. It was like being on the set of a movie. Real, but not real. Only there were no cameras. No special lights. No director to yell, “Cut!” This was real.

  This was her Alternity! She’d just entered the state of Dual Consciousness that Mr. MacMillan had told her about. She took a few moments to let the knowledge sink in. What an amazing feeling to see both times, know both times…

  Then she remembered one important fact. She had only an hour to make a decision—the decision of her life.

  She put a hand to her forehead, not having to fake exhaustion. Though she hated to see Brandy go, she had no choice. “I need to get to bed. Do you mind?”

  Brandy stood. “Of course not.” She pulled Lane into a hug. “I’ll be thinking of you every second tomorrow. Praying for you, too, if you want. You’ll do great. I feel it.”

  Lane let Brandy find her own way out. She locked the door of her room and le
aned against it. Why did the colors seem more vivid, the items more distinct?

  She covered her eyes. She couldn’t focus on things. She had to think.

  She slipped to the floor and leaned her arms on her raised knees. Then she realized something: The Dual Consciousness had kicked in before her audition! How could she ever make an informed decision when she would never know for sure if this Chicago audition would get her the part of Bess? As a professional actress, she knew how fickle auditions could be. Talent played into the decision, but so did luck, and the quirkiness of human nature. What if one of the judges had a migraine? What if one of the judges who had chosen her the first time through this situation was sick and was replaced by someone who wasn’t impressed by her performance? What if the whole lot of them were hungry and impatient, wanting lunch?

  Now, with this new audition, in a different town, there was no guarantee she would get the part.

  “So what?”

  She pushed her fingers through her hair. The pearl promise ring Toby had given her last Christmas caught in a strand and pulled.

  Toby. Marriage. Family. Land.

  If she stayed behind, if she didn’t get the part, she would have a nice life in Dawson. She’d have the family that had eluded her as a movie star. The first time around she’d left town before Toby proposed. It had been hard leaving him, but the audition had been before he’d asked her to marry him. There hadn’t been that final act of commitment. But this time they were engaged. If they got married, there would be no string of live-in lovers who broke her heart and tried her patience. She might have two or three kids by now. Kids in school who would need sack lunches, who would need to be reminded to zip up their coats, who would need to be cuddled and tucked in at night.

  She wanted to be a mother. Or did she only want to want to be a mother? Did the reason she’d dragged her feet about announcing the engagement have deep roots?

  You’re thirty-four.

  Oh no, she wasn’t. At this moment she was eighteen. She got to her feet and moved to the mirror. She touched her hair and face like a blind woman seeing. Yet oddly enough, after a few moments, she realized she liked her thirty-four-year-old face better. She’d taken care of herself. Her older self had a face rich with character. With characters.

  If she stayed behind, there might not be any more characters. Sure, she could continue to act in local productions. Maybe she could even be instrumental in starting a community theater here. But maybe not. And as Grandma had said, would she be using her God-given gift to her greatest ability here? It was kind of odd—but nice—to think that God had anything to do with her acting ability. Maybe she should actually contact Him more often. Consult Him. Thank Him. It would be the least she could do.

  Well, then. Family or fame. That was the choice.

  Lane picked up the teddy bear Brandy had been holding and set it in its proper place by the pillows. Brandy…

  Lane sighed, grabbed the bear for her own comfort, and sat on the bed. The first time around, when Lane had been awarded the part of Bess and had headed to Hollywood, she’d gotten Brandy to go with her. Lane’s success had given her best friend a means of escape from an abusive mother. They’d been together ever since.

  If Lane stayed behind…

  Her mind left Brandy and swam with memories of the Cannes Film Festival, the house on the ocean, filming in places like Rome and London, calling famous people “friends.” She led a glamorous life. She’d had experiences that never could be duplicated here in Dawson.

  Yet Dawson could hold experiences never duplicated in Hollywood. Night-and-day differences, each good in its own right. And it wasn’t the money. Wealth was a perk but not a driving force in her life. She could be happy in a two-bedroom house on a hill. With Toby. With their kids. With Mom, Dad, and Grandma Nellie close by…

  She twirled Toby’s ring on her finger. This wasn’t just about her. Her decision would affect others. She loved Toby and wanted what was best for him. Which means stay.

  But she also loved Brandy. Which means go.

  Which was the stronger love?

  Who needed her more?

  She turned over on her back, covering her face with the teddy bear’s paws. Toby was a sweet guy. He’d find another girl to love. And maybe if she went back to her movie-star life, she could look him up. Now, wouldn’t that be a Hollywood ending: Movie Star Finds Old Love.

  But Brandy…without the escape route that went with Lane’s success, Brandy might stick around Dawson her entire life. If her mom didn’t kill her first. If she didn’t run away.

  Lane got off the bed, her decision made. Yet before the time got too close, there was something she had to do.

  She opened her bedroom door and descended the stairs, letting the sounds, smells, and sights of her childhood fill her up. At the bottom of the steps, she turned toward the living room. Her father chuckled to a joke Mike Seaver made on Growing Pains; her mother sat on the Wedgwood blue and mauve couch, doing a counted cross-stitch of a goose. Grandma sat at the small table by the window, playing Solitaire and eating a Rice Krispie treat.

  Grandma looked up first. “Hey, child. You all ready for tomorrow?”

  “I think so.” Hope so. Tomorrow was so very far away…

  “Want to play gin?”

  “Sorry, Grandma. I need to take a walk.” Lane bent over and gave her a hug. “I love you.”

  “Well… I love you, too.”

  Her mother had turned around to see. “What’s made you all sentimental tonight, Lane?”

  “Nothing. I just appreciate you guys.” And even though it might make them suspicious—even though she would not be around to witness their suspicions—Lane hugged her mother and father, too, and told them she loved them.

  “My, my,” her dad said.

  She went to the door. “I’m going for a walk now.” I have to be able to concentrate on the future. I can’t be here with you. I can’t.

  “Don’t be gone long,” Mom said.

  “See you later,” Grandma added.

  Much later.

  Athens—1976

  Over the next three days, one by one, Vanessa met with her teachers. And though Professor Harler was by far the most eloquent, their message was the same: Be strong and do the work.

  Duh.

  And oddly enough, it wasn’t that hard. Once she made that decision she actually caught herself listening and—gasp!—taking notes. She’d even found Russian History rather interesting.

  After finishing that class, she went back to the dorm with a plan to grab her other textbooks and head to the library to study. She almost didn’t see the answering-machine light flashing…

  She pushed the button to listen and heard her father’s voice: “I called to tell you that I’m granting your wish. You want nothing to do with me or my advice, then I won’t burden you with them. If you’re selfish enough not to care about anyone but yourself, so be it. You are on your own. Completely. There will be no more checks unless you come to your senses and offer me the apology that’s due me. And you will be back. I know it. Father does know best.”

  The machine clicked off. She shivered.

  She hated that her first thoughts were about the money, not the relationship. Did that prove she was just as cold as he was?

  The back of her legs found the bed and she sat. What was she going to do?

  Get a job.

  No way would a part-time job give her enough money for tuition and board.

  Apply for a scholarship.

  Based on what? Grades?

  Then give in to your father. Maybe he does know best.

  Did he?

  No. He wanted her to get an abortion. He wanted her to stay away from her mother. He wanted her to stay tethered to him. And, though she’d never really thought much about it, h
e wanted her to get a degree in business so she could help him with his business. Had he ever once asked her what she was interested in or what she wanted to be when she grew up?

  What do you want to be?

  Too many questions. Not enough answers. She needed sound advice.

  She left her books behind and set out to get it.

  Decatur

  It had not occurred to Vanessa—until she was nearly at Eastridge School—that her mother was working and couldn’t leave her second-graders and have a powwow with her daughter to figure out her life.

  She looked at her watch. It was after eleven. Was there a lunch break soon? Since she’d come this far, she didn’t turn back but hoped for the best. She checked in at the school office, introducing herself as Dorian’s daughter.

  The secretary was nice and led Vanessa down to her mother’s classroom. She knocked on the doorjamb. “Excuse me, Mrs. Pruitt?”

  Her mother looked up from the book she was reading aloud to a gaggle of children seated on the floor. She jumped out of her too-small chair. “Vanessa!”

  Twenty-some heads turned in her direction.

  Her mother came toward her. “Thank you, Miss Green. Nessa, come in, come in. Come meet my wonderful students.”

  Vanessa was led to the front of the group like she was a prized possession for show-and-tell.

  “Children, I would like you to meet my daughter, Vanessa. Can you say hello?”

  In unison they said, “Hello, Vanessa.”

  They were incredibly cute, all squirming on the floor in their brightly colored outfits, with their eager eyes.

  “Would you like Vanessa to finish reading the book to you before we go to lunch?”

  “Yes!”

  Her mother handed her Green Eggs and Ham, opened to the right page, and held the pint-sized chair for her. “You’ll pay for this,” Vanessa whispered as she sat down. She took a breath and looked at her audience. They were waiting. For her. As if she was the most important person in the world.

  Not a bad feeling.

  “How do you like your mac and cheese?”

  Vanessa finished chewing. “It’s surprisingly yummy.”