"I'm sorry," I said again. Whenever someone tells you something sad, it's the only thing you can think to say, even if you've already said it before.
"It just gives me a way to . . . to be a part of her. Can you understand that?" She wasn't saying it sadly, just more to let me know the answer to my question. Somehow that made it worse.
After she told me the story, I thought of her growing up with Hegbert again, and I didn't really know what to say. As I was thinking about my answer, though, I heard a car blare its horn from behind us, and both Jamie and I stopped and turned around at the same time as we heard it pulling over to the side.
Eric and Margaret were in the car, Eric on the driver's side, Margaret on the side closest to us.
"Well, lookee who we have here," Eric said as he leaned over the steering wheel so that I could see his face. I hadn't told him I'd been walking Jamie home, and in the curious way that teenage minds work, this new development took priority over anything that I was feeling about Jamie's story.
"Hello, Eric. Hello, Margaret," Jamie said cheerfully.
"Walking her home, Landon?" I could see the little devil behind Eric's smile.
"Hey, Eric," I said, wishing he'd never seen me.
"It's a beautiful night for strolling, isn't it?" Eric said. I think that because Margaret was between him and Jamie, he felt a little bolder than he usually was in Jamie's presence. And there was no way he could let this opportunity pass without sticking it to me.
Jamie looked around and smiled. "Yes, it is."
Eric looked around, too, with this wistful look in his eyes before taking a deep breath. I could tell he was faking it. "Boy, it really is nice out there." He sighed and glanced toward us as he shrugged. "I'd offer you a ride, but it wouldn't be half as nice as actually walking under the stars, and I wouldn't want you two to miss it." He said this like he was doing us both a favor.
"Oh, we're almost to my house anyway," Jamie said. "I was going to offer Landon a cup of cider. Would you like to meet us there? We have plenty."
A cup of cider? At her house? She hadn't mentioned that. . . .
I put my hands in my pocket, wondering if this could get any worse.
"Oh, no . . . that's all right. We were just heading off to Cecil's Diner."
"On a school night?" she asked innocently.
"Oh, we won't be out too late," he promised, "but we should probably be going. Enjoy your cider, you two."
"Thanks for stopping to say hello," Jamie said, waving.
Eric got the car rolling again, but slowly. Jamie probably thought he was a safe driver. He really wasn't, though he was good at getting out of trouble when he'd crashed into something. I remember one time when he'd told his mother that a cow had jumped out in front of the car and that's why the grille and fender were damaged. "It happened so fast, Mom, the cow came out of nowhere. It just darted out in front of me, and I couldn't stop in time." Now, everyone knows cows don't exactly dart anywhere, but his mother believed him. She used to be a head cheerleader, too, by the way.
Once they'd pulled out of sight, Jamie turned to me and smiled.
"You have nice friends, Landon."
"Sure I do." Notice the careful way I phrased my answer.
After dropping Jamie off—no, I didn't stay for any cider—I started back to my house, grumbling the whole time. By then Jamie's story had left me completely, and I could practically hear my friends laughing about me, all the way from Cecil's Diner.
See what happens when you're a nice guy?
By the next morning everyone at school knew I was walking Jamie home, and this started up a new round of speculation about the two of us. This time it was even worse than before. It was so bad that I had to spend my lunch break in the library just to get away from it all.
That night, the rehearsal was at the Playhouse. It was the last one before the show opened, and we had a lot to do. Right after school, the boys in drama class had to load all the props in the classroom into the rented truck to take them to the Playhouse. The only problem was that Eddie and I were the only two boys, and he's not exactly the most coordinated individual in history. We'd be walking through a doorway, carrying one of the heavier items, and his Hooville body would work against him. At every critical moment when I really needed his help to balance the load, he'd stumble over some dust or an insect on the floor, and the weight of the prop would come crashing down on my fingers, pinching them against the doorjamb in the most painful way possible.
"S-s-sorry," he'd say. "D-d-did . . . th-th-that hurt?"
I'd stifle the curses rising in my throat and bite out, "Just don't do it again."
But he couldn't stop himself from stumbling around any more than he could stop the rain from falling. By the time we'd finished loading and unloading everything, my fingers looked like Toby's, the roving handyman. And the worst thing was, I didn't even get a chance to eat before rehearsal started. Moving the props had taken three hours, and we didn't finish setting them up until a few minutes before everyone else arrived to begin. With everything else that had happened that day, suffice it to say I was in a pretty bad mood.
I ran through my lines without even thinking about them, and Miss Garber didn't say the word marvelous all night long. She had this concerned look in her eyes afterward, but Jamie simply smiled and told her not to worry, that everything was going to be all right. I knew Jamie was just trying to make things better for me, but when she asked me to walk her home, I told her no. The Playhouse was in the middle of town, and to walk her home, I'd have to walk a good distance out of my way. Besides, I didn't want to be seen again doing it. But Miss Garber had overheard Jamie's request and she said, very firmly, that I'd be glad to do it. "You two can talk about the play," she said. "Maybe you can work out the kinks." By kinks, of course, she meant me specifically.
So once more I ended up walking Jamie home, but she could tell I wasn't really in the mood to talk because I walked a little bit in front of her, my hands in my pockets, without even really turning back to see whether she was following. It went this way for the first few minutes, and I hadn't said a word to her.
"You're not in a very good mood, are you?" she finally asked. "You didn't even try tonight."
"You don't miss a thing, do you?" I said sarcastically without looking at her.
"Maybe I can help," she offered. She said it kind of happily, which made me even a little angrier.
"I doubt it," I snapped.
"Maybe if you told me what was wrong—"
I didn't let her finish.
"Look," I said, stopping, turning to face her. "I've just spent all day hauling crap, I haven't eaten since lunch, and now I have to trek a mile out of my way to make sure you get home, when we both know you don't even need me to do it."
It was the first time I'd ever raised my voice to her. To tell you the truth, it felt kind of good. It had been building up for a long time. Jamie was too surprised to respond, and I went on.
"And the only reason I'm doing this is because of your father, who doesn't even like me. This whole thing is dumb, and I wish I had never agreed to do it."
"You're just saying this because you're nervous about the play—"
I cut her off with a shake of my head.
Once I got on a roll, it was sometimes hard for me to stop. I could take her optimism and cheerfulness only so long, and today wasn't the day to push me too far.
"Don't you get it?" I said, exasperated. "I'm not nervous about the play, I just don't want to be here. I don't want to walk you home, I don't want my friends to keep talking about me, and I don't want to spend time with you. You keep acting like we're friends, but we're not. We're not anything. I just want the whole thing to be over so I can go back to my normal life."
She looked hurt by my outburst, and to be honest, I couldn't blame her.
"I see," was all she said. I waited for her to raise her voice at me, to defend herself, to make her case again, but she didn't. All she did was look toward the ground
. I think part of her wanted to cry, but she didn't, and I finally stalked away, leaving her standing by herself. A moment later, though, I heard her start moving, too. She was about five yards behind me the rest of the way to her house, and she didn't try to talk to me again until she started up the walkway. I was already moving down the sidewalk when I heard her voice.
"Thank you for walking me home, Landon," she called out.
I winced as soon as she said it. Even when I was mean to her face and said the most spiteful things, she could find some reason to thank me. She was just that kind of girl, and I think I actually hated her for it.
Or rather, I think, I hated myself.
Chapter 8
The night of the play was cool and crisp, the sky absolutely clear without a hint of clouds. We had to arrive an hour early, and I'd been feeling pretty bad all day about the way I'd talked to Jamie the night before. She'd never been anything but nice to me, and I knew that I'd been a jerk. I saw her in the hallways between classes, and I wanted to go up to apologize to her for what I'd said, but she'd sort of slip back into the crowd before I got the chance. She was already at the Playhouse by the time I finally arrived, and I saw her talking to Miss Garber and Hegbert, off to one side, over by the curtains. Everyone was in motion, working off nervous energy, but she seemed strangely lethargic. She hadn't put on her costume yet—she was supposed to wear a white, flowing dress to give that angelic appearance—and she was still wearing the same sweater she'd worn at school. Despite my trepidation at how she might react, I walked up to the three of them.
"Hey, Jamie," I said. "Hello, Reverend . . . Miss Garber."
Jamie turned to me.
"Hello, Landon," she said quietly.
I could tell she'd been thinking about the night before, too, because she didn't smile at me like she always did when she saw me. I asked if I could talk to her alone, and the two of us excused ourselves. I could see Hegbert and Miss Garber watching us as we took a few
steps off to the side, out of hearing distance.
I glanced around the stage nervously.
"I'm sorry about those things I said last night,"
I began. "I know they probably hurt your feelings, and I was wrong to have said them."
She looked at me, as if wondering whether to believe me.
"Did you mean those things you said?" she finally asked.
"I was just in a bad mood, that's all. I get sort of wound up sometimes." I knew I hadn't really answered her question.
"I see," she said. She said it as she had the night before, then turned toward the empty seats in the audience. Again she had that sad look in her eyes.
"Look," I said, reaching for her hand, "I promise to make it up to you." Don't ask me why I said it—it just seemed like the right thing to do at that moment.
For the first time that night, she began to smile.
"Thank you," she said, turning to face me.
"Jamie?"
Jamie turned. "Yes, Miss Garber?"
"I think we're about ready for you." Miss Garber was motioning with her hand.
"I've got to go," she said to me.
"I know."
"Break a leg?" I said. Wishing someone luck before a play is supposed to be bad luck. That's why everyone tells you to "break a leg."
I let go of her hand. "We both will. I promise."
After that, we had to get ready, and we went our separate ways. I headed toward the men's dressing room. The Playhouse was fairly sophisticated, considering that it was located in Beaufort, with separate dressing rooms that made us feel as if we were actual actors, as opposed to students.
My costume, which was kept at the Playhouse, was already in the dressing room. Earlier in the rehearsals we'd had our measurements taken so that they could be altered, and I was getting dressed when Eric walked in the door unannounced. Eddie was still in the dressing room, putting on his mute bum's costume, and when he saw Eric he got a look of terror in his eyes. At least once a week Eric gave him a wedgie, and Eddie kind of hightailed it out of there as fast as he could, pulling one leg up on his costume on the way out the door. Eric ignored him and sat on the dressing table in front of the mirror.
"So," Eric said with a mischievous grin on his face, "what are you going to do?"
I looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"About the play, stupid. You gonna flub up your lines or something?"
I shook my head. "No."
"You gonna knock the props over?" Everyone knew about the props.
"I hadn't planned on it," I answered stoically.
"You mean you're going to do this thing straight up?"
I nodded. Thinking otherwise hadn't even occurred to me.
He looked at me for a long time, as if he were seeing someone he'd never seen before.
"I guess you're finally growing up, Landon," he said at last. Coming from Eric, I wasn't sure whether it was intended as a compliment.
Either way, though, I knew he was right.
In the play, Tom Thornton is amazed when he first sees the angel, which is why he goes around helping her as she shares Christmas with those less fortunate. The first words out of Tom's mouth are, "You're beautiful," and I was supposed to say them as if I meant them from the bottom of my heart. This was the pivotal moment in the entire play, and it sets the tone for everything else that happens afterward. The problem, however, was that I still hadn't nailed this line yet. Sure, I said the words, but they didn't come off too convincingly, seeing as I probably said the words like anyone would when looking at Jamie, with the exception of Hegbert. It was the only scene where Miss Garber had never said the wordmarvelous, so I was nervous about it. I kept trying to imagine someone else as the angel so that I could get it just right, but with all the other things I was trying to concentrate on, it kept getting lost in the shuffle.
Jamie was still in her dressing room when the curtains finally opened. I didn't see her beforehand, but that was okay. The first few scenes didn't include her anyway—they were mainly about Tom Thornton and his relationship with his daughter.
Now, I didn't think I'd be too nervous when I stepped out on stage, being that I'd rehearsed so much, but it hits you right between the eyes when it actually happens. The Playhouse was absolutely packed, and as Miss Garber had predicted, they'd had to set up two extra rows of seats all the way across the back. Normally the place sat four hundred, but with those seats there were at least another fifty people sitting down. In addition, people were standing against the walls, packed like sardines.
As soon as I stepped on stage, everyone was absolutely quiet. The crowd, I noticed, was mainly old ladies of the blue-haired type, the kind that play bingo and drink Bloody Marys at Sunday brunch, though I could see Eric sitting with all my friends near the back row. It was downright eerie, if you know what I mean, to be standing in front of them while everyone waited for me to say something.
So I did the best I could to put it out of my mind as I did the first few scenes in the play. Sally, the one-eyed wonder, was playing my daughter, by the way, because she was sort of small, and we went through our scenes just as we'd rehearsed them. Neither of us blew our lines, though we weren't spectacular or anything. When we closed the curtains for act two, we had to quickly reset the props. This time everyone pitched in, and my fingers escaped unscathed because I avoided Eddie at all costs.
I still hadn't seen Jamie—I guess she was exempt from moving props because her costume was made of light material and would rip if she caught it on one of those nails—but I didn't have much time to think about her because of all we had to do. The next thing I knew, the curtain was opening again and I was back in Hegbert Sullivan's world, walking past storefronts and looking in windows for the music box my daughter wants for Christmas. My back was turned from where Jamie entered, but I heard the crowd collectively draw a breath as soon as she appeared on stage. I thought it was silent before, but now it went absolutely hush still. Just then, from the corner of my eye
and off to the side of the stage, I saw Hegbert's jaw quivering. I readied myself to turn around, and when I did, I finally saw what it was all about.
For the first time since I'd known her, her honey-colored hair wasn't pulled into a tight bun. Instead it was hanging loosely, longer than I imagined, reaching below her shoulder blades. There was a trace of glitter in her hair, and it caught the stage lights, sparkling like a crystal halo. Set against her flowing white dress tailored exactly for her, it was absolutely amazing to
behold. She didn't look like the girl I'd grown up with or the girl I'd come recently to know. She wore a touch of makeup, too—not a lot, just enough to bring out the softness of her features. She was smiling slightly, as if she were holding a secret close to her heart, just like the part called for her to do.
She looked exactly like an angel.
I know my jaw dropped a little, and I just stood there looking at her for what seemed like a long time, shocked into silence, until I suddenly remembered that I had a line I had to deliver. I took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
"You're beautiful," I finally said to her, and I think everyone in the whole auditorium, from the blue-haired ladies in front to my friends in the back row, knew that I actually meant it.
I'd nailed that line for the very first time.
Chapter 9
To say that the play was a smashing success was to put it mildly. The audience laughed and the audience cried, which is pretty much what they were supposed to do. But because of Jamie's presence, it really became something special—and I think everyone in the cast was as shocked as I was at how well the whole thing had come off. They all had that same look I did when I first saw her, and it made the play that much more powerful when they were performing their parts. We finished the first performance without a hitch, and the next evening even more people showed up, if you can believe it. Even Eric came up to me afterward and congratulated me, which after what he'd said to me before was somewhat of a
surprise.
A Walk to Remember Page 8