* * *
For the next few days, I avoided calling Adam and screened my answering machine messages, picking up only for Greta and Mike. Finally, Friday night I heard his voice on the answering machine and realized my cowardice was bordering on cruelty.
“Hi, Adam.” I picked up the phone breathless, hoping he’d think I just walked in the door.
“Hi, Mona.” Awkward silence. “I want to apologize for the other night.”
Nooooooo! Please don’t apologize to me.
He continued. “I was out of line being jealous over your singing with another guy. You were fantastic, by the way. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that band wanted you to be its lead singer.”
“Oh, um, thanks, Adam. You really shouldn’t be the one apologizing, though. I could see you were having a bad time and I should’ve suggested we leave.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. I should have snapped out of my mood. People in relationships need to focus on their partner’s needs before their own. That’s what I believe. Anyway, I was hoping we could get together Saturday night.”
“Oh, thanks,” I hesitated. “I’m going to the theater with Vicki, Greta, Mike, and two women from the Kickin’ Chicks. How ‘bout midweek?”
“What are you guys seeing?” Adam asked.
“I’m not sure. Vicki’s going to pick up tickets at the half-price kiosk downtown tomorrow. Whatever they have six tickets for that night is what we’ll end up seeing.”
“Oh, in that case, do you mind if I come along?”
Adam, we need to talk.
Adam, it’s not you, it’s me.
This relationship has run its course.
“Okay!” I said with too much enthusiasm. I sounded like the head cheerleader getting the squad ready for the halftime show.
At dinner Saturday night, I gasped with horror that I’d forgotten to tell Adam where to meet us for the play. Vicki held up her hand as she finished chewing her grilled salmon. “Mmmmm, not a problem,” she said. “He called this morning while you were at the gym, and I gave him the details. He’ll meet us there. I told him to look for Mike and Greta if we weren’t there right at seven-thirty.”
“What are we seeing anyway?” I asked Vicki.
“Oh, you’ll love it. It’s a musical adaptation of It’s a Wonderful Life. One of the girls from the team saw it last weekend and said it was wild. One of those ‘different’ theatre companies, you know.”
“It’s a Wonderful Life in June? Hmmm, weird.”
“Very weird,” she said. “It got written up by the San Diego Reader as the most bizarre production to come out of San Diego since Sledgehammer did Faust on Ice in 1992.”
I wish I could report whether or not the musical adaptation of It’s a Wonderful Life was weird, but I only saw the first ten minutes of the play. Adam sat on my right side wearing a fresh pressed canary yellow oxford shirt and khaki pants, fidgeting with his program. Mike was seated to my immediate left with a denim shirt and jeans staring straight at the closed velvet curtain. “How’s it going?” I tapped him on the knee.
“It’s going.” He shrugged. The lights dimmed. I heard the familiar opening of Billy Joel’s “Allentown.” A chorus of townspeople marched on the stage with Christmas ornaments in hand and began singing, “Well we’re living here in Bedford Falls, and George Bailey thinks the time just crawls. And his life has made no difference, but he is wrong, shows angel Clarence. And it’s really been a wonderful life. And George Bailey’s got a wonderful wife. And his kids are happy he’s their dad, if he jumped off that bridge they’d be so sad. And so would all the folks of Bedford Falls.”
Mike looked at me in terror as if to say he couldn’t bear another hour and a half of such shameless corniness. The scene changed to the Bailey living room where George enters after he learns his uncle misplaced eight thousand dollars.
Adam whispered as George Bailey appeared on stage, “He looks exactly like your ex-boyfriend, Poison.”
Shiiiiit!
Bailey’s adoring wife wrapped her black-and-white dress sleeves around his waist. “Oh honey, it’s Christmas Eve, try not to think about that mean old Potter anymore.”
Adam squinted at the actress. “Is that the lady who passed out at the zoo?”
Oh my God! Soon he’s going to see Potter, who—
Knock, knock, knock on the set door. Julie opened the door and held her hand to her head. “Potter!” she yelped. “Can’t you leave us alone on Christmas Eve, you mean and greedy old man?!”
“What the—” Adam said louder than he should have in a theatre.
“Shhh,” I rested my hand on his leg. “I’ll explain later.”
“That’s the guy you sang with last week at the bar!” Adam shouted and stood. “What the hell is going on here?” The actors were startled into silence by the irate audience member, but soon continued with the show.
“Sit down, Adam,” I whispered. “I’ll explain this all to you later.”
“You will explain it to me now!” he shouted and stood. I looked up at the stage to apologize, but caught Ollie directing his lighting crew to turn the spot on Adam. The rest stood agape, completely out of character and engrossed in what I would say or do to explain myself. I expected someone in the audience to speak up and urge Adam to sit down, but all eyes were on him—and me. Suddenly, I was in the spotlight, too, and everyone was waiting for an answer. “Who are these people?” Adam demanded.
“They’re actors, Adam,” I said, hushing him.
“But George Bailey is your ex-boyfriend from a heavy metal band!” Adam snapped. The audience looked as though they were watching a tennis match. Every head simultaneously turned to me for the answer, though they were all thoroughly confused by the question.
“Adam, can we talk about this later?” I begged.
“Why were you singing karaoke with Potter at a bar last weekend?” Adam shouted.
I heard a woman three rows back whisper, “This is such an original production.” I realized about half of the people in the audience probably assumed that Adam’s outburst was part of the show because of the spotlight on us. At that point, Toby peeked his head out from behind the curtain.
“Mona, you were mugged by that angel!” Adam shouted when he saw Toby in his Clarence regalia. “And isn’t that woman in the feathered hat your former lesbian lover?! I absolutely demand to know what’s going on here!”
This time the actors stopped dead and turned to me. All eyes in the audience were on me. Everyone wanted to know what Adam was talking about.
“I was ... I tried ... Adam, it’s not how it seems,” I stammered.
“I loved you!” he shouted. “I was going to ask you to marry me. I don’t even know who the hell you are. What kind of nut are you?!”
“Okay, buddy, you’re gonna have to back off now.” Mike finally stood up to defend me. Suddenly, a spotlight shone on him. “Fuck,” he said, resigned, as if he saw that coming. Then he went on. “Ease up on Mona, man. She was doing all this ʼcause she wanted you to like her.”
“What was she doing?!” Adam shouted at Mike.
“Settle down, buddy.”
“Why don’t you make me settle down, buddy?” Adam challenged.
The woman three rows back whispered, “I’ve got to tell Louise about this show.”
Mike ignored the challenge to a fight and turned to me sitting in the seat between them. I had momentarily shrunk back into obscurity, but Mike grabbed my hand and I was in the spotlight again. Softly he said, “Look, Mona, I know this isn’t the best timing, but I gotta tell you, I love you, too. My whole ... the way I . .. I don’t know, I just love you, Mona Lisa. When you first hired me, I thought you had a screw loose, but man, the more I got to know you, the more I felt completely and totally at home with you. You’re the first woman I’ve been able to really be myself with. Not even myself, better than myself. Like the me I didn’t know I could be. I don’t know, maybe it’s because you weren’t even on the radar as a possibl
e girlfriend; there wasn’t any need to impress you or pull my usual bullshit. It was like since there was no possibility of us getting together, we could hang out and I could, I don’t know, just be me and just being me made me better than me, does that make any sense at all? Don’t answer that, I know it doesn’t, but I don’t care. I love you, Mona. I’m like crazy, freakin’ in love, wanna be your pussy whipped husband in love with you, Mona. And you know I never get sappy like this, but I can’t stand watching you try to impress this clown anymore when you and I both know that it’s you and me who belong together.”
The group of audience members surrounding us let out a big “Ahhhhh!”
Someone from the back shouted, “What’d he say?!”
“He said he loves her. Shush,” Vicki returned.
Greta closed her eyes, looking as though she was mortified at the public display. But then she rose from her seat and right on cue, she was at the center of a bright circle of light. “Mona, I’ve been giving you a hard time for months over these public relations stunts you’ve been pulling to lure in Adam.”
Her preamble was interrupted by Adam. “Okay, finally I’m getting a little insight into what the hell is going on here.”
“Shut up!” three people in the audience snapped at Adam. “Somebody else is talking, Mr. Big Mouth,” one said.
Greta looked toward the ground then shot her head up like she was about to lead the troops into battle. “Anyway, it’s me who’s been the fraud here. At least you were honest about what you want. I haven’t even had the guts to tell you who I really am, and that, that ... Good Lord, help me, but Terry back in Texas is a woman, and I left her because she wanted more of a commitment from me, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay with her any longer because I love you, Mona.”
“Hot diggity dog,” a guy in the audience said as he rubbed his hands together in delight.
From onstage, Ollie shouted, “Enough!” And finally, the show returned to its rightful venue. At last, Ollie had decided to put an end to this spectacle and resume his production. “Mona, I love you, too,” he declared.
Ollie?
“Ever since you walked into my theater that day I was smitten. No one questions the director, but here came this little pistol telling me that my choices are all wrong and that I wasn’t being true to the script.” He sighed audibly. “And then when we sang together, that was it. That voice. It’s intoxicating and I am utterly intoxicated by you, Mona Warren.”
“Isn’t she great?” Vicki shouted to Ollie. “That guy at the bar turned out to be legit and Mona may front a new band.” This hardly seemed the time for a chat, but people in the audience began muttering that they were impressed. The woman three rows back even wished me luck, so all things considered, Vicki’s update wasn’t too out of line.
From the back row, a guy I’d never seen before stood up and declared his love for me, too. Even with the spotlight on him, I had no idea who he was.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
“No, baby, but three guys and a lesbian can’t be wrong. You must be one hot number.”
“I like the second boy,” said a yenta in the front row. “That other one—shouting, shouting, shouting. Not very nice. Mona needs a sensitive boy like number two.”
From onstage, Julie offered, “Ollie is very nice, too.”
The yenta replied, “Eh, she could do worse, but my money’s on number two.”
“His name is Mike,” Vicki corrected.
“Well, then I like Mike.” She smiled at Vicki, who returned the gesture.
“Take the lesbian!” shouted the same guy who was fired up over Greta’s declaration. “Take me and the lesbian.” Greta rolled her eyes.
Soon, nearly everyone from the audience and cast was shouting their suggestions at me. Most were rooting for Mike. Many of the men wanted Greta, though their motives were questionable. And a handful thought I should give Ollie a shot. No one lobbied for Adam, least of all Adam.
“Take Mike!”
“Go with the chick!”
“Ollie’s a good guy.”
“Shut up!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
“This is not elimiDATE,” I said more calmly. “These are people with feelings and you’re treating them like they’re each a disposable commodity. Please, please, be quiet for just a moment.” I inhaled deeply at the annoyance of being yet again in the bright heat of the spotlight. “Adam, I’m so sorry. I fell in love with you seven years ago from afar and thought so little of myself that I orchestrated all of these scenarios because I thought I couldn’t win you over on my own. I figured you’d find me more interesting if I dated rock stars or saved lives, but everything I tried failed miserably, and frankly I can’t believe you fell in love with me in spite of everything. I mean, I looked like a total loser and you still loved me. You can’t possibly know what a gift that is to me, Adam. I swear, I love you for that, Adam. I do love you as a person and for what you’ve given me, but I’m not in love with you, and that’s the first thing I’ve ever told you that is completely honest. That, and I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”
Adam said nothing.
“Greta, you are my best friend in the world. You were a friend to me when no one else was, and these last few months that you’ve been back in San Diego have been wonderful. I love you dearly, but I’m just not a lesbian. I’m glad you are, though. I mean, I’m glad that if that’s who you are, you finally told me. And again, I can’t believe that knowing what you know about me, you still developed feelings, but just like you can’t change who you are, I can’t change who I am.” Greta smiled. I honestly don’t think she was ever truly in love with me as much as she loved me as a friend as a teen, the same time she was coming to terms with her sexuality. “And Ollie, I don’t know what to say. I’ve enjoyed singing with you, but we hardly know each other. I think you’re a sweetheart and maybe we could’ve had a shot at something had you not directed your lighting crew to spot everyone for our little sideshow here.” I laughed. “Ollie, you’re the first man who’s ever said I was a bossy pain in the ass. You’re the first person who’s ever characterized me this way, and knowing that I can be accepted and even loved this way is invaluable to me.”
“What about me?” the guy in the back shouted.
“Sir, I don’t even know you.”
“Strangers need love, too.”
“Mike.” My voice quivered. “I’ll be honest, though it’s fairly new territory for me. You scare me. I was about two inches from falling in love with you the moment we met. There’s something so unbelievably compelling about you, but you can be so detached. There are times when you are so completely disengaged from the real you, I can’t tell which is the persona and which is the real Mike—the column or the guy who glued my mug back together. I would love to throw myself into your arms and end this show with the big Hollywood kiss, but you scare me. Once I let myself fall in love with you, I’m not sure I can fall out. But you might, and Mike,” my eyes filled with tears, “I can’t risk losing another person I love, so I’m going to just hold off on this one with you. If you really love me, you’ll wait. And I know this sounds odd, but I kind of need to see that you’ll wait.”
I realized that the entire theatre was silent, disappointed that I didn’t give them the ending they’d hoped for. Shockingly, our whole group even Adam—was still seated, and seemingly ready to watch the rest of It’s a Wonderful Life, The Musical.
Ollie waited to see that I’d finished. “Okay, then, as they say, the show must go on.”
“Well we’re living here in Bedford Falls,” a group began to sing as I rushed from the theater and caught a taxi back to my quiet home.
Chapter 42
Six months after the staged Christmas at the Bailey home, I finally got my old-fashioned family holiday. It was quite different looking than the one I fantasized about in Larry Fontaine’s office last year. Twenty of us were scattered across the house. Greta and Vicki helped me in the kitchen while Mike set the
dining room table. Christmas music filled the living room and sun poured into Tara. There was a feeling that while tomorrow may be another day, life was pretty wonderful today.
Vicki brought a cup of eggnog to her new husband, Captain John, which I must confess took a little getting used to. Somewhere between redecorating his family room and the bedrooms, something sparked between them. When she finished the job she asked what he thought of the house, and he replied, “It could look a lot better with you as a permanent fixture,” and presented her with a rock that rivals any self-respecting doorknob. Mike had a hard time with it at first and kept calling the captain the “Quaker Oats guy.” When the word got out that Vicki was a stripper, everyone on the island started buzzing that she was our hometown Anna Nicole Smith, but two weeks later, one of the most successful real estate brokers’ sons drove his father’s Porsche into the family room of a seven million dollar beachfront listing, and all gossip was refocused on the O’Connor boy’s DUI.
Greta and Brooke got together after the Kickin’ Chicks season opener. They are two of the most fierce and intense athletes I’ve ever seen play soccer. I shudder to think of the sex they have. Then, I just stop thinking about it. What I love most about Brooke is how she calls Greta on her need to psychoanalyze the other teammates. I laughed at the thought that in my makeshift family, a lesbian mid-fielder was my new sister-in-law. My eighty-year old brother-in-law was my grandmother’s former illicit lover who married a stripper-gone-decorator. My, how Coronado had changed. And all under one roof.
Sitting at the piano, Ollie asked if anyone had another request and Julie said she’d like to hear “Auld Lang Syne.” “After dinner, Ollie,” she said. “Everyone’s starving.”
“Shall we say grace?” asked Francesca. She moved in about two weeks after Thanksgiving when I called to tell her I was pregnant. She said that while she’s enjoyed her life in Missoula, she was ready to be surrounded by family again. With that, I felt a marble in my throat and invited her to come and live with Mike and me. God knows, neither of us has a clue how to take care of a baby. She was the house grandmother we desperately needed. An ordained minister, she plans to marry us next week.
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