Someday You'll Laugh

by Brenda Maxfield

  “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “How long will you be gone?” His eyes were down, and he made a big production of squeezing another ketchup package into his glob of dip.

  I saw the tension in his jaw.

  “A week. Not long.”

  His blue eyes flashed up at me, and the intensity there made me squirm. “You going to write?”

  “To you?”

  “Of course to me. I might disintegrate if I don’t hear from you.” His tone was joking, but his face was serious.

  “Wouldn’t be appropriate now, would it?” I crammed a handful of fries into my mouth nearly choking myself. The wad of salty potatoes stuck in my throat, and I took a gulp of soda. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation and every inch of my being told me to get up and flee.

  Paul remained silent. I kept my eyes on my food, but I could feel him staring at me. I ate the rest of my fries like I was in an eating competition. The sooner I finished, the sooner I could excuse myself and get out of there. Within three minutes, I was done. Most of Paul’s fries still lay on the tray.

  “I’m ready to go.” I scooted off the bench and stood.

  He studied my face for a minute, picked up the tray, and joined me. “Fine. Let’s go.” He dumped the rest of his fries in the garbage.

  ****

  Dad drove me to the airport on Sunday afternoon and came with me while I got checked in.

  “Okay, Dad, I’m all set.” I hoisted my bag higher onto my shoulder.

  “Be safe,” he said and kissed me on the cheek. “We’ll miss you.”

  He walked toward the parking garage and gave me a wave before disappearing through the revolving door. I waved back and turned to make my way to the gate. I’d been worried I wouldn’t know what to do or where to go, but I followed a cluster of travelers through security and into the concourse. From there, finding B6 was easy. After I’d settled in at the gate, I pulled Greg’s graduation photo out of my pocket. He’d given me a five-by-seven and also the wallet-sized copy I had with me. I stared at his image and into his smiling eyes.

  “I’ll be there in a couple hours,” I whispered.

  The man seated to my left in the waiting area shifted with a loud cough. I shoved the photo back into my pocket. He probably thought I had a screw loose to be talking to a picture.

  Before long, we were on board and all buckled in safely. I sat in the window seat and kept my face pressed against the plastic pane through take-off and the initial ascent. Once the plane leveled out, I closed my eyes and leaned on the headrest. I fought with the seat belt to get Greg’s photo out of my pocket again, but when I cradled it against my chest, it wasn’t Greg’s image I visualized.

  It was Paul’s face, Paul’s blue eyes, Paul’s hands on the piano that filled my mind. I reached under the seat in front of me and grabbed my purse. I took out the pad of paper inside and a pen.

  Dear Paul,

  Well, I’m writing to you as requested. I’m in the air right now. The houses were like teeny specks when we went up. It was pretty cool. I think you’d like it up here.

  Was I deluding myself into thinking I knew what Paul would or wouldn’t like? Wow, when had we become so intimate? I laid my pen on my lap. With a sudden move, I ripped the page out of the notebook, wadded it into a tight ball, and crammed it in my pocket.

  Enough of Paul. This trip was about me and Greg and singing and a scholarship.

  Flying was amazing. In less than three hours, I disembarked in California. I followed the signs to baggage and saw Greg waiting with a huge welcoming smile and wide-open arms.

  “You’re here!” he called. I ran to him and he twirled me around. When he set me down, he gave me a lingering kiss. “Wow, you look good.”

  “So do you.” I squeezed his arm.

  “Let’s take you to your new home.” He turned to the carousel. “What’s your suitcase look like?”

  “Blue and yellow. And it’s not my new home yet, Greg. Let’s not jump the gun.”

  “They’ll hear you sing, they’ll love you, and they’ll give you the scholarship. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal.” The pride on his face made my insides shudder.

  Being there with him in California made me want to keep shuddering.

  I shook my head, shoved down the uneasiness inside, and walked with him out of the airport and into the sparkling California sunlight. We threw my bag into the back of Don’s clunker, climbed into the front seat, and rattled all the way to campus.

  ****

  Tuesday came too soon. I’d managed to work myself into a major tizzy as I waited for my turn to sing. Sweat dripped down my sides underneath my carefully ironed red dress. Greg sat with me in the vestibule tapping his foot like a wild man.

  I reached over and clenched his leg. “Stop tapping. You’re making me crazy.”

  “Sorry. I’m stopping. I know there’s no reason to be nervous.”

  There was plenty of reason, but I didn’t see how discussing it would help. I checked my watch for the hundredth time. Four more minutes.

  The door opened and a student with red braids trailing down her back came through. She nodded at me and smiled. “Brenda? It’s your turn.”

  Greg squeezed my hand and I got up to follow the girl. The room was cavernous with a high ceiling and sound panels lining each wall. I glanced at the three elderly judges and walked to a middle-aged man sitting at the piano and handed him my music.

  The ancient judge on the far left looked up. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  I cleared my throat and attempted a smile. The pianist began and I came in right on cue.

  The audition was a blur. The only thing I remembered was that my knees wouldn’t stop shaking. My dress was short, and so with every note all I could think about was whether the judges could see my knees creating their own personal earthquake.

  When the songs were complete, I wanted to fall to the floor with relief. The last note from the piano faded into oblivion, and I ventured a look at the judges. All I saw was the gray hair on the top of each head as they conferred together. I stood, uncertain about what I was supposed to do.

  After a minute of whispering, one of them — a thin woman whose wrinkles hung from her jaw like laundry on a summer day — smiled at me. “Dear, you may go. We’ll be in touch. Is this the number where we can contact you?” She held out a piece of paper with Greg’s dorm number.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said and fled the room. No exaggeration — fled.

  Greg stood when he saw me coming and his look flipped from excitement to worried concern.

  “What happened in there? You made it, right?” He took hold of my arm.

  “I doubt it. I was awful, really awful. I was so nervous, my knees almost shook loose from my legs.”

  He laughed, but sobered when he saw my face. “You couldn’t have been that bad. People always think they did worse than they did. You have a great voice.”

  “I was horrible. I’m not kidding, I blew it.” The strangest thing was taking place in my body. A strand of relief began to grow and spread over me — an odd happiness over my failure.

  Greg pulled me down onto a fake leather couch. “I know you. You couldn’t have been bad. When are they going to call with the news?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway because I know I didn’t make it.”

  I’d never been so certain of anything in my life.

  Greg ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm. “If you don’t make it, we’ll think of another way to get you here.”

  I looked into his earnest eyes and saw his longing, but there was no echoing desire in my own heart. None.

  “I don’t think so, Greg. I’m staying in Washington.”

  He backed away and stared. “Why? What do you mean?”

  “I’m staying in Washington.”

  He rubbed his hand over his forehead. “These past couple of weeks have been too hard. Being apart is too hard. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but wit
hout you, it’s, well, it’s dead.”

  I looked down at my clasped hands. He put his fingers under my chin and lifted my face to his. He leaned forward and kissed me. “I’ve missed you. More than I ever thought I would.” His voice was gentle and the tenderness flowing from him engulfed me and made it difficult to breathe.

  I knew he was waiting for me to respond, but whirling confusion had grabbed my words, and I didn’t know what to say. As the silence grew, Greg’s brow creased and the muscles around his mouth tensed.

  “Brenda?”

  My eyes were wide and I knew tears hovered on my lashes. “Yes?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “You said you wanted to see other people.”

  “Oh that,” he said, and he sighed with obvious relief. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

  He grabbed my arm and looked at me, his eyes moist but full of joy. “I was worried there for a minute. Don’t give another thought to what I said. It was stupid. I was stupid. We don’t have to see anyone else. I don’t want to, not even a little.”

  He tried to pull me into his arms, but I remained stiff. His hands dropped from me, and he moved back a few inches. His eyes searched my face.

  “Oh no,” he whispered. “You’ve met someone.”

  The tears that had been balancing on my lashes began to fall. I stared into Greg’s stricken face. “No. No, I haven’t. Well maybe. Kind of. Yes.”

  He rose from the bench and took a step backward. “Who is he? Then why did you come?”

  I jumped off the bench and went to him. “He’s no one. It’s nothing. I don’t even know if he likes me…”

  Greg put his hand to my mouth, and his fingers were cold. “Stop. Don’t talk. I don’t want to know.”

  I pressed my lips together and began shaking as if a cold draft had come through the room. I swallowed past the lump clogging my throat. Greg’s expression flickered from anger to disbelief to sadness. I stood and watched him, and the tremor inside me gained intensity.

  “Then we’re over,” he said. His words were spaced evenly, and I heard the steel control behind them. I expected his expression to be hard, but it wasn’t. It was nothing. Wiped clean. As if he was observing a blank TV screen.

  I wondered what I was supposed to do. I reached out my hand, but he blocked it with his own. “Don’t,” he said.

  My hand dropped to my side. Tears again filled my eyes, but given his demeanor, I couldn’t let them fall. I swiped at them with the back of my hand.

  “What now?” I asked. I had the oddest feeling of having shrunk in size. I moved abruptly, trying to shake it off.

  Greg’s chin rose and he squared his shoulders. “You go back to Washington and I stay here.”

  “My ticket isn’t good until Friday.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something to do. You can keep staying in the girls’ dorm and either Don or I will take you to the airport when it’s time.” He turned and walked away.

  “Greg.”

  He paused, his back to me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He pivoted and looked at me with eyes a mile deep in sadness. For the longest moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed and said, “It was my fault. I’m the one who decided we should see other people. And wow, didn’t it turn out just perfectly.”

  He pushed through the frosted glass doors and was gone.

  ****

  Time limps along when you’re sitting in a dorm room with absolutely nothing to do. I slept, went to the cafeteria to buy their cheapest bits of food, read the paperback I’d brought from home, twice, and waited for Friday to come. I’d tried to get an earlier flight but was told I’d have to pay a hefty fee which I didn’t have.

  More than once, I started a letter to Paul, but each time I ended up ripping it to shreds. How dumb could I be? I barely knew him and was quite certain he wasn’t interested in my broken love life.

  I became good friends with the industrial grade sheets the dorm provided for guests. I lay on them for hours contemplating my decision. Why had I been so quick to let Greg go? Had so much changed in the last few weeks? Was I so fickle as to switch allegiances in a New York minute?

  The twirling questions got me nowhere. When Friday came, I ran out to the car. Don was driving and Greg was nowhere to be seen. I threw my suitcase into the backseat and climbed into the front. At the look on Don’s face, I asked, “You want me to sit in the back with my bag?”

  He leveled an acid glance my way. “That would suit me fine.”

  I slammed the door. “Think I’ll stay up here. And I don’t know why you’re so mad. I didn’t do anything to you.”

  “Greg’s my best friend.”

  “I’m aware. But if you’ll remember, he practically begged me to see other people.”

  Don snorted. “Right. He hasn’t even looked at a girl since we arrived.”

  “That’s not my fault.” I couldn’t keep the annoyance from my voice.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  I pushed back into the seat and pursed my lips. I was an inch away from sticking out my tongue at him like a five-year-old.

  “He really liked you,” Don said, and I saw his hands tense up on the steering wheel.

  “And I liked him. I didn’t plan this. I came all the way down here, didn’t I?”

  “Too bad you didn’t dump him beforehand. Would’ve saved you both a lot of trouble.”

  I scowled, but he was right.

  A few minutes later, we arrived at the airport. Don pulled to the curb and I got out grabbing my bag.

  “Oh by the way,” Don said over the seat. “Some judge called Greg. You didn’t make the cut.”

  ****

  My sisters strangled me with hugs and questions when I got back to Washington. Mother stood to the side and watched with a growing frown on her face. When I shook them off, she walked to me and gazed into my eyes. “It’s over? Just like that?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I’m your mother, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, it’s over. Back to Lower Columbia College on Monday.”

  She pushed my bangs from my forehead and cupped my cheek with her rough hand. “You okay?”

  “I’m okay. I might even be better than okay.”

  “Good. Welcome home. I guess I don’t have to start helping you pack for a move south.”

  ****

  On Monday, I woke up nervous. I was about to see Paul in class and I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t imagined our mutual attraction. What if it was all a delusion? What if I’d broken up with Greg for nothing?

  Well, that was stupid. I wasn’t crazy about Greg anymore whether Paul liked me or not. I slipped into my light pink dress and zipped myself up. The dress was short, sitting well above my knees. My choice was intentional as I planned to pull out all stops. I layered on some thick mascara and fluffed my short hair. I tossed my black sweater over my shoulders knowing I’d probably freeze as the morning looked cool and the haze never burnt off until noon or later.

  I looked into the mirror and smiled. My combo looked good and showed off my legs and waist, my two best features. I dabbed on a bit of lipstick and went outside to climb into the Jeep.

  Western Civilization was first period so I’d see Paul right away. Like usual, I got there before him and as I waited, my heart went into a jittery dance. My breathing was shallow and for a minute, I felt light-headed.

  Paul walked into class and his eyes immediately locked onto mine. I knew he was probing, trying to read what had happened in California.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey back,” he replied. He grabbed the seat next to mine and pulled it further away. It had become a joke between us, and I attempted a laugh. He gazed at me, paused, and then returned the desk to the spot butting up next to mine. He sat.

  “How’d your audition go?”

  “I messed up.”

  “How’d it go with Greg?”

  “Messed that up, too.”

  His bre
ath escaped in a long rush, and then he smiled. My heart latched onto his smile, and my stomach unclenched.

  “Does this mean you’re staying here?” His eyes were hopeful.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

  He reached out and grabbed my hand for a quick squeeze. My heartbeat stumbled. A warm flush surged upward gathering in my throat, making it hard to swallow. I inhaled sharply and focused on the chalkboard in the front of the room.

  Daddy Long-Legs entered and called the class to attention. I concentrated on the teacher, but my emotions had scattered and I was having trouble reining them in. I put my hand on my neck and felt my warm steady pulse. A strange sense of peace settled over me.

  I’d been right to come home.

  ****

  The day continued and I wondered whether I’d made too much of Paul’s quick hand squeeze. After all, he’d never asked me out on a date. He’d never declared any interest. He’d never even called me. By the time choir practice was to begin, I’d convinced myself I was a complete fool.

  Sharon glommed onto me the minute I walked through the door.

  “Where were you last week?” she asked.

  “In California.”

  She sucked in her breath and her hands fluttered at her sides. “Seeing Greg?”

  “Yep. Seeing Greg.”

  Chapter Four

  A rosy flush moved up Sharon’s cheeks. She clamped her mouth shut and turned away. I watched and was tempted to gloat, but a feeling of sadness for her washed over me and I resisted. I grabbed my music folder from the slot and went to sit down. Paul came in a minute later. I watched his easy gate and the yearning to know him better formed a lump in my stomach. He was laughing and the sound settled into me like a good meal.

  He caught my eye and winked. My eyes widened in surprise. I was about to return the wink, but he’d already looked away.

  When choir rehearsal finished, he walked over to me. I sensed Sharon close and knew she had positioned herself to hear whatever he was about to say.

  “Still glad you’re back?”