The Hefner Monologues Ending Story, Part 2

[thehefner]

A few nights later, my fellow Rude and Tammy's best friend Erin and I hung out. We saw a Will Ferrell movie and bummed around the mall as best as we could on our mutual $20 budget. Erin was to Tammy in many ways what Dave was to me—the loud, outrageous, perpetually-energized hetero-life-mate. Well, ok, so among the four of us I was the only one who was strictly heterosexual, but you get the point.

Erin and I didn't care much for one another for awhile there. She seemed way too hyper and crazy for me, and remember, I'm talking as the guy whose best friend has been known to turn into Tex-Avery-style Daffy Duck at random moments. As for me, apparently my poor first-impression skills that served me so well my freshman year at college had a similar effect on Erin, who thought I was a jerk and subsequently did not look kindly on me messing around with her best friend. She thought I was just another one of Tammy's asshole guy-friends, the guy who would use her and then end up getting dicked over by her in the end, so no tears shed there.

However, as Erin got to know me better, she started getting more and more upset. "Oh no, he's actually a decent guy! Shit! Now I don't want to see him destroyed! But I can see the train heading right to the cliff and, oh look, it just burst into flames on its way over."

This was our first time hanging out together, just the two of us. Much like Tammy, Erin was not the fool she pretended to be, and as such did not fool herself as to one of the main reasons I hung out with her. Absolutely not the only reason… but I am ashamed to admit that it was a major one, and Erin was kind enough not to hold it against me. She's a good person like that.

"So how is she?" I asked Erin, while we nibbled over burgers in the food court. Rather, I was the one nibbling, my appetite slowly leaving me now that the topic had arisen.

"She left Van Breeman," Erin said.

"What??"

"Yep."

"But… whoa-whoa-whoa, what? When? Why?"

"What, she left him. When, almost three weeks ago now. Why? He was a cunt, Heffie."

"He wasn't a cunt," I said. "He was a pigfucker."

"Exactly!" she laughed. "A complete and total pigfucker!"

"But… but I thought she loved him."

Erin shook her head, a sly and energized beam in her eyes.

"She…" I scrambled to grasp the concept. "She didn't love him? But she left Bryan for him. She left me for him."

Erin was the only person I've ever known who could be tender, sympathetic, and condescending all at the same time.

"Heffie, Tammy and Bryan were doomed to fall apart. We all knew it was a matter of time. Van Breeman manipulated her just like he manipulated you, but he didn't have to do much."

"So you know what he did to me?"

"I just wish I'd said something sooner. I could see you trusted him."

"The pigfucker."

"Yep! Pigfucker! Backstage during Oedipus, he was telling Tammy that she should watch out for you. He said, 'Oh, you should be careful of Heffie, he's obviously obsessed with you. He looks like a pretty strong guy too, who knows what he could do.'"

"You're shitting me."

"Seriously."

"He insinuated that I could rape her?!"

"I said, 'Oh please! This is Heffie we're talking about here! If he tried to tear her shirt, he'd get a nosebleed!'"

"Exactly! Hey, wait…"

"Tammy was all like, 'yeah, but…' and whatever. She just swallowed Van Breeman's bullshit. God, I wanted to smack her so fucking hard."

"You… did?"

"Absolutely!"

"But… she's your best friend."

"Yes. And she was treating you like shit."

To actually hear someone else say that was like winning the Poor Sad Bastard Lottery. Congrats, you're our lucky winner, have some validation! Try your luck next time and maybe you'll get closure!

"Thank you. Seriously… thank you so much."

"You're very welcome."

"I just can't believe it. He insinuated that I could fucking rape her. I am living in the Bizarro World. 'Goodbye, Erin! It am terrible day today! Me must be staying now. Hello!'" She laughed, and I yelled out, my voice echoing through the food court, "I mean, c'mon! You know I would never have hurt her in a million years!"

"I know that," Erin said sweetly. "Because even if you could have, I'd have fucking killed you."

"And here I thought you were mad at Tammy."

"I am, but she's still my best friend. I don't like it when someone hurts my friend, even if it's a friend who does it," she said, then after a moment, added, "Eat your burger, Heffie."

"What? Oh. I'm not hungry."

"Heffie," she said sternly. "Eat."

"Ok, ok, fine. Geez." I picked it up, about to force myself to dive in, when a thought occurred to me. "Why didn't she call me?"

"Hm?"

"After she and Van Breeman broke up. Does she just… want me gone?"

"It's… not exactly like that. She's got a new boyfriend."

"Already?"

"They'd already been friends for awhile. I mean, you know how it is."

"Huh." I honestly didn't even know how to take it. After months of building up a single-minded hatred of Van Breeman, I had no emotional investment in this stranger, no reason to feel jealous or happy. "Is he, uh… well… decent?"

"Yeah. His name's Brent. I thought he was a jerk at first, but then I realized that was just a cover-up. He was just pretending to be a jerk because he figured out that was the only way he could get Tammy to not dump him. Then when he got her hooked, he pulled the rug out from under her and by the time she realized he was actually a good, decent guy, it was too late. So they're together now."

"That's… fucked up."

"Goodbye from Bizarro World, me hope you no am enjoy your stay."

"So, uh… is she… y'know… is she happy now?"

"Hmm… not really."

"Why not?"

"She still feels like shit over what she did to you."

"She does?"

"Yep."

"Oh god," and I thought that was maybe the point for which I was so desperate was finally within reach. But then I pulled back and asked, "Wait. Does she understand? I mean, does she really know what she put me through? Does she have any real idea?"

"A pretty good idea. Remember, you're not the first guy she's done this to."

"But… she loved me. Right?" I instantly regretted actually asking the question. Sometimes, the not knowing is so much easier.

But Erin said, "Yeah. She did. She was completely hung up on you."

And with that, it wasn't just like winning a lottery. It was Sad Bastard Christmas. Dear god, I wasn't crazy or delusional. I was right. God in Heaven, I was right. She really did love me.

"Was I what finally pushed her to break up with Bryan? Van Breeman was there to swoop in and pick her up, sure, but was I what finally broke the pattern with Tammy?"

"Assuming it is broken…"

"Well let me rephrase then. May I choose to believe that I was the one?"

"Go right ahead."

"Hooray!" I took a bite from the burger and didn't realize how dry my mouth was. I decided one bite was enough. One doesn't want to push these things. I asked, "Erin… are you still gonna ask Tammy if she can come to Vigil?"

"I said I'd try."

"Because if she can't, that'd be perfectly fine, you understand."

"Of course."

"But… y'know, just be sure to ask her. It'd mean a lot to me."

"I know. I will! Don't worry, Heffie!"

"I'm not worried! I'm totally cool, baby."

"And eat your damn burger!"

"Yes'm," I acquiesced. I'd risk the nausea over being walloped by a woman any day.

Within a matter of days, it was time to leave for Washington College to begin my first semester of my final year, a senior at last. To think of how miserable I was during my freshman year, and now… all the students who disliked me and had me blacklisted? Gone! Any traces of social stigma? Vanished! Clancy? Well, Clancy was still there, at his fifth year but still a registered Junior. Hey, some things never change.

Ahh, senior year. It took three whole years of alienation, homesickness, frustration and drama, but now I would finally see what all the fuss was about. This was college. I returned to many friendly faces, mostly old, some new. That was the really crazy thing—I actually had friends. I'm not talking about folks you're friendly with, I mean real friends who, like the Rudes, I would have for years and years to come. They didn't pull me out of my emotional tar pit, but being around them made me momentarily forget where I was.

Funny thing, though. I started to notice a pattern in the reactions of many of these friends when we'd be reunited. Sure, there would be the usual "Hey, you!"—eyes and smile alike wide with pleasant surprise, and arms flinging open for a warm embrace before the exchange of standard pleasantries. All that was there, as usual. Only this time, if only for a brief moment, those eyes would take on a surprised, even shocked, glint as they beheld me for the first time since Spring. Some were too polite to outright say anything, but others would make little remarks. Things that would range from the friendly…

"Hey, Skinny!"

…To the complimentary…

"Lookin' good, John!"

…To the curious…

"Hey John! Wow, what'd you do, go on a diet?"

…To the concerned…

"Have you been sick? Are you all right?"

… and finally, to the stern and motherly…

"John. Please. For the love of God. Eat a fucking sandwich."

I actually heard that last one twice, both from girls. Guys never say those kinds of things to one another. Take Dave, for example. When I first met him during the Fall 2003 semester just as I was about to perform in As You Like It, I was peaking at 210 pounds. Dave, meanwhile, was tall, imposing, built wide like a linebacker but lanky, therefore in many ways resembling the bastard lovechild of two of his heroes, Tom Waits and Ducky from Pretty in Pink.

Over that summer, however, Dave found love. Her name was Dinah, a friend of a friend he'd known for some time. In true Dave form, when they first met Dinah absolutely hated the boy. For your average Joe, hating Dave is perhaps the most natural and understandable first reaction anyone should have upon meeting him. I didn't hold it against anyone if they didn't eventually take a shine to him, as I did. He pissed off and turned off the majority of people he met, but the rest of them absolutely adored the old boy. That was the thing with Dave: you either loved him, hated him, or both.

Over the summer, he and Dinah had fallen hopelessly, madly in love, and now the intense, mischievous Puck-like grin which had been permanently welded onto that mad redhead's face was tempered, for the first time, with blissful warmth. He'd been walking on air all summer, living every day with a spring in his steel-toed step, merrily indulging himself in every beer, french fry, chicken tender, and triple chocolate milkshake he could get his happy hedonist hands on. Seeing me again now after our long summer apart was the first thing that affected his mood, albeit not by much.

"Awww, I lost my chubby buddy!" he lamented. "Damn it! Now I'm the fat one!"

"People keep saying that about me. Have I really lost that much weight?"

"Have you looked in a mirror, Hef?"

"Sure, but I can't tell if anything has changed. When I look in a mirror, all I see is me. Samwise Gamgee, the fat, crying hobbit."

A beat passed before he flipped back into his current default mode. He beamed, "I'm in love."

"Yes, so you've told me about five times by now in the past hour."

Dave giggled maliciously. Even when he was happy, he laughed like a schoolboy who was waiting for the cherry bomb he'd put under the teacher's seat to go off.

"She tastes like clear gummy bears, dude."

"What?"

"I swear to god! Her cunt tastes just like—"

Plugging fingers in my ears, I yelled, "Lalalala, I'm not listening!"

He giggled again. "I'm in love with a beautiful comic book artist who loves horror movies and whose pussy tastes like clear gummy bears. I'm the luckiest fucking man on earth."

"Well…" I started, in a vague attempt to puff myself up in front of Dave, "I've got a date with Misty tonight."

"Oh, well, good for you," he said nonchalantly. Then he thought about a topic that
actually interested him and he asked, "You fuck her yet?"

"Dude! I just got back!"

"Pshh, if she were my girl, I'd have fucked her twice by now. You bet if Dinah were here right now, I'd be alone in the graveyard with her and a case of beer. I'd be there right now and giving her the shocker rather than wasting my time talking to you."

"Yeah, well, she's back in Philly and you're stuck here, Horny McGee."

"Yeah, lucky fucking me."

"Hey, I'm your only friend here and you know it."

"Yyyyeah, I know," he said, turning away like a chastised Labrador. Turning back on me with googly eyes, he said, "I wuv oo, Shnooky Bear."

"And I wuv oo too, Minky Boodle. Now let us never speak like that ever again."

He paused again and giggled. "Clear gummy b—"

"Don't… say it."

"Hee hee hee hee hee."

Had I really been losing so much weight? Sure, my gut didn't hang off quite like it used to and my man-boobs were gone, but whenever I looked down at my body, all I ever saw was flab. And while, of course, you can't magically get a six pack just from losing weight, I always looked at the softness at any given place on my body and just assumed it was business as usual.

My dorm room came equipped with a full-body mirror, which I wanted to utilize just before my date with Misty. At that point, I had gone a couple days without showering and even more without shaving. I've never been one to shave and shower just for the sake of doing it. If I didn't ever leave my house, I probably would be content to live in my own squalor for as long as possible. Dates, work, and other forms of human interaction are what keep me from descending to walking on all fours and licking my privates. Well, if I could reach… anyway, anyway, look, my point is that at that particular point, I wasn't feeling my best and therefore wasn't looking my best. So it was like that when I disrobed and stood naked before the mirror.

The gut was still soft, but now in the mirror it didn't look nearly as pudgy as it did in person. My ribs were all visible, with little muscle to hold them back, and with my love handles gone (my god, my love handles are gone, I mean there's nothing there!) my hip bones were also visible with the thin skin stretched over them like canvas. My jaw, speckled over with barely enough whiskers to grow an Amish beard, had become long and almost pointed. I actually had cheekbones for the first time in my life. My chipmunk cheeks, which always gave me an appearance of boyishness, were gone. I'd aged years in a matter of months. I could see large patches of scalp peeking through my greasy, ill-kempt, and much-thinned hair. I looked tired, weak, and hungry. I looked like…

It took me a moment to realize it. Oh god.

I look like Bryan.

I remembered how Tammy said, "This is what I do," and the look in her eyes after I asked her if she was a succubus, and I had a sudden visual of Tammy as Mathilda May from that horrible space vampire movie Lifeforce (for those who've seen the movie, it's a marvelous visual). A beautiful temptress reducing every man she meets, no matter how robust and meaty, into a withered husk. I pondered upon this for a few moments, musing upon the philosophical and symbolic implications of this, before bursting out in ironic laughter and heading into the shower.

Would Misty also remark upon my new physique, I wondered. I certainly hoped so. After all, I was an actor, and we are whores for attention. But then again, I asked myself as I washed the grease from my body, would I even care? I still didn't know how attracted I was to her, or if I even wanted this to go anywhere. I arrived just in time for our date at La Routa to find her already waiting outside. Even at fifty feet, when I first caught a glimpse of that cream-white face and that long, unreally-blond hair, I had to wonder just what the hell I was thinking all those months. Was my attraction to her ever really in question?? My preoccupation with Tammy must have rendered me a blind idiot, because this girl was radiant.

Then she saw me, and her face lit up. When her eyes met mine and that smile grew upon her small, thin lips, I didn't think she would ever be more beautiful to me again.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi," she said, and gave me a shy little wave.

Dinner was wonderful, as always. I wonder what the lady at La Routa must think of me, going to her restaurant so often and bringing another woman each time. As usual on the date, I did the bulk of the talking. I monologue even when I'm not performing monologues. Misty was fine with that, as she was more of a listener and an observer anyway, and we could see that we were getting along even better than when we were talking on-line.

But all the while, I couldn't help but glance over two tables away. I stopped to actually count how long ago it was. Seven months, give or take a week. Seven months since Tammy and I sat there before Birthday Ball.

Afterwards, we retreated back to my room. I don't think either of us quite knew what for, whether we intended to make out or just watch a movie. We sat on my bed together, continuing our one-sided conversation, before I finally ran out of steam. This seemed about as good a time as any to bring it up.

"So…" I said, "What now? I mean… about us?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Shit. I hated having to make decisions for myself. But then, it seemed Misty might have been just the same. So I went and chose the next best thing to indecision. I chose hesitation.

"Well… I think… maybe we shouldn't jump into anything. Right now. I'm thinking we should just stay friends for right now. Take it slow. See where it goes from there. That sound ok with you?"

"Yeah. That sounds fine."

We said we would hang out soon, and then she was off and that was that. It seemed like the most prudent plan, as well as the easiest and laziest, but I had my reasons. And besides, I had my thesis to think of. Not just Vigil either, as it would turn out, but also a play called Good by C.P. Taylor.

Good was about a university professor in 1930s Germany who, whenever faced with a difficult moral decision, avoids the dilemma entirely by slipping into a fantasy world of music. As the Nazis rise to power, he keeps making bad decision after bad decision, justifying to himself all the way until, by the time he realizes he might have made a mistake, he's on his way to a concentration camp as an SS guard. It's a powerful play with a timely message, and I was going to be in it one way or another.

My thesis required me to take part in a faculty-directed production, so I was obligated to try out for Good, which was directed by Professor Jason Rubin. Jason knew for many months ahead of time that he would have to cast me in this play, so knowing my physicality and my talents for ham acting, he had me pre-cast in his mind as Hitler. It's a small but fun role; this Hitler is the Hitler of the main character's imagination, very Charlie-Chaplin-esque and over the top. Certainly I could have done it well and gotten fat off the scenery. Except now I wasn't fat anymore, that's the thing, which Jason wasn't expecting in the least. He was frustrated by this new development and how it wrecked his mental plans for his play.

Not long after the auditions, I discovered that I had landed the lead role. I had never, ever gotten the lead role in a play before, and it would eventually prove to be one of the greatest roles I would ever have. If during my awkward and blacklisted Freshman year you'd have told me I would have gotten here… well, I'd probably just have been happy you were talking to me.

I went on-line to write in my LiveJournal and elsewhere to announce to everyone I knew the good news. I kept them posted with the development of it over the month, writing about the difficulties getting a handle on the character, my frustrations with all these damn lines, how gloriously wrong it was that I looked absolutely fucking hot in an SS Uniform (both Misty and my mother agreed), etc.

Then one day, I checked my comments section after one entry I had written, to find that Erin had posted the following message for me:

"So she-who must not be named sayed some very good things when I was talking to her on friday. One she said that whatever a certian person that was close to her of the male veriaty said to you, that you should ignore it and not pay attention to his bull-shit. Also that she is no where NEAR mad or freaked out by you, and that she was stupid to listen to the guy mentioned ealier. Also that she would LOVE to go to Otakon with us and dress up with us and do all of that fun stuff. And lastly but most importnat of all, that she wants to see both "Good" and Vigil and that she would never miss Vigil and you in your dream role for the WORLD............and that is all. See I told you everything was going to work out just fine. wuvs youes Later."

The message hit me so hard, I didn't even stop to consider the absolutely horrible spelling. Really, having Dave as a regular contributor to my blog left me accustomed to seeing the English language frequently raped. Maybe it was simply the fact that, regardless of the hope onto which I held, I already subconsciously accepted that I never would see her again.

For whatever reason, I broke down sobbing.

Three or so months before Oedipus/Antigone, Tammy had taken a job at Games Workshop. For those of the non-gaming geek variety, Games Workshop is one of those stores that cater to tabletop games—y'know, those die cast metal figurines that you paint and set to war on battlefields made of foam and cardboard and covered in plastic moss. Remember the figurines that Tammy was so good at painting? Heh, y'know, unlike Van Breeman's. The pigfucker.

Anyway, I knew she was still working there months ago, at the location inside the mall where we saw Kill Bill vol. 2 with the Pigfucker and afterwards when I called Dave, he couldn't believe I screamed "CURSE YOU, RICHARDS!" at the top of my lungs. I called Erin to make sure she was still there, and to ask if it wouldn't be a bad idea if, on my drive home from college for a weekend, I went to go visit her at work.

Even now, I'm not entirely sure what the hell I was doing when I pulled into the expansive mall parking lot that autumn afternoon in September. My heart was pounding even as my brain was shutting down, everything going into automatic pilot as I made my way through the air-conditioned throngs of mallrats and yuppie trash, past the vendors selling animated framed portraits and jewelry that looked to be made with Fimo and hemp, all the way to my own personal Mount Doom as its employees might say, Games Workshop.

At this point in the suspense, there's something I should probably bring up. I don't like geeks unless they're geeks of the same things I am. Not always, no, but generally, I feel extremely uncomfortable around hardcore geeks. The stronger and more fanatical the passion, the less comfortable I am around them. Some of the worst for me are role players, tabletop gamers, people who memorize Klingon and Elvish—I'm talking about people who daily forget the line between fantasy and reality. Folks who spend significant portions of their lives calling themselves things like Morgath the Pungent and Bi'lah'm'ah'shabazz Pi or something like that always makes me itch and slowly edge towards the nearest exit.

That's right, I'm a geek hypocrite. Sue me with a mystical subpoena that has a plus nine against ogres and intolerant geeks. It's something I'm working on to this day, mainly due to the fact that if I don't, half of my friends in the Rudes will probably wallop me over the head with a very large and heavy GURPS rulebook or something.

I always felt uncomfortable and out of place in Games Workshop even when I was with Tammy. Now I was venturing back to the strange venue again, not even sure what I was expecting to find. When I arrived at the store, I didn't even go in at first. I just stood at the entrance, right in the doorway, and looked inside.

The store was completely free of customers. The only occupants were four workers, all in their black staff shirts and blue pants, just hanging out in the middle of the store more like guys in a den than people at their jobs. I didn't recognize a single one. The laid back placidity was broken abruptly as all four heads turned to me standing there dumbly in the entranceway.

"Can we help you?" one of the guys asked.

All I could bring myself to say was "Uh…" as I struggled to ask does Tammy still work here?

"…Heffie?" the girl with short black hair asked, with a hushed voice. She slid off the table upon which she had been sitting and slowly started to walk towards me, with sad wonder dawning on her face. She dyed her hair. I didn't even recognize her until a second before she was in my arms again.

"Hey Tammy," I said, smiling faintly.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her arms wrapped around me.

We held one another tightly for a long moment. She pulled away from me and we both got our first good look at one another. I couldn't help but notice the hair, missing the reddish brown 'do that she had while I knew her, as I'd always remember her.

Aware of the lameness of such a question, she still asked, "So. How've you been?"

I shrugged, playing casual. "Oh, you know. Well, actually, I suppose you wouldn't."

"Heh."

"Six months, eh?"

"Yeah, God. Was Oedipus really only six months ago? Geez."

"I've been trying not to think about it."

"You and me both," she said, and laughed. It wasn't her giggle, the one I loved so much, but rather that ironic chortle she made. She hated it when she laughed like that. She thought it sounded like Fran Drescher's laugh.

"How've you been doing?" I asked.

"Ugh! Busy."

"Erin told me you'd been working pretty hard."

"Yeah, she said you took her out for her birthday!"

"Yeah, we've hung out a couple times," I said. The words hung in the air for a moment as we smiled, our eyes locked. "Uh, look, I was just in the area. Actually, I was just driving down from college, so I thought I'd… y'know, casually make a 45-minute detour over here and see you. I won't be here long, I promise."

"Oh. Ok."

"I just… wanted to come by and drop this off."

"What is it?"

Handing her the CD, I said, "Just a little something I…"

"Oh my God…! Is this…?"

"Yeah. Mandy Patinkin's 'Dress Casual.'"

"Oh my God. Heffie… oh, Heffie…"

Speechless, she embraced me tightly again.

"Glad y-whuff! Erm, glad you like it."

"I've been looking for this album all my life."

"I know. I actually bought it during Oedipus/Antigone, but I never got a chance to give it to you. Because… well, you know."

With sad tenderness, she said, "Oh, Heffie… really?"

"I was just sick of Inigo Montoya staring at me from my CD shelf. I burned it for myself already, even though I don't listen to it much. So here."

She cradled the CD to her chest and whispered, "Thank you." Then she looked up at me and again said, "Thank you"

"It really isn't that hard to find. You can get it off the internet."

"Ah, yeah, well, that'd be the trick, now wouldn't it? I haven't had internet for five months. Couldn't afford it anymore. It's ok. All I ever did was chat on IM and watch cartoons."

"Yeah, I hadn't seen you on IM. Then again… for all I knew I might have been blocked."

Shaking her head and smiling, she said, "No. No, of course not."

"I, uh… I like the new 'do, by the way."

"Thanks," she said, in that way that I knew she didn't agree but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

"You look good. You look like you lost weight. Was it the South Beach Diet? I remember you kept saying how you were gonna go on it."

"No, I never did get around to starting it. I'm gonna try next week."

"Sure you are."

"Shut up, I am!" she said, giving me a shove and then giggling. Her real giggle this time.

"God, I missed that laugh."

"Hey, speaking of weight loss, look at you! You look great!"

"60 pounds."

"Wow! That's amazing!"

"I didn't even know I'd lost that much till I weighed myself the other day."

"Wow. What'd you do?

I stopped dead, looking at her for an uneasy moment. "You… you really don't know?"

"What?"

"…Maybe I should save this for later… for when… if we see each other again…"

"Heffie, what are you talking about? What happened?"

I looked at her. Did I want her to know? Yes. Oh yes. But I thought Erin would have already told her, or that maybe, seeing me, she would have figured it out. I didn't want to be the one to tell her, no matter how much I wanted her to know.

"I couldn't eat, Tammy."

"What? What happened?" I struggled to find the words as she looked at me with sudden, deep concern. "What?"

"Tammy… after Oedipus… and after… these past six months…" I made meaningless gestures with my hands, unable to bring myself to go any more in detail. I shrugged and put my hands down. "I couldn't eat."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A moment passed, neither of us able to look at the other. Forcing levity, I said, "But yeah, I look damn sexy now, don't I?"

And she forced a laughed and said, "Yeah."

"I'd totally do me."

"I'm sure you would, Heffie."

"You let me know how that turns out."

"You bet. In all the details." There was a quick final chuckle and then the phony humor died its quick and natural death, leaving only an awkward silence in its wake. "Um. Okay, I think I'm gonna go. I'm so nervous I don't know what I might say. I mean, look at me, I'm all blah-dee-blah-blah."

She giggled again. "Yeah."

For the first time since I set foot back in there, I took a good long look around me. "I never thought I'd see this mall again."

"Really?"

"I never thought… I'd see you again."

"Oh, Heffie… no." She put her small hand on my cheek and looked me in the eye, tenderly serious. "No."

"Well, uh… enjoy the CD."

"I am so gonna play this over and over again. It's going to piss Jerry off so much, it'll be great!"

"Ah, that's the, uh… the boyfriend?"

"No. That's… that's Brent. Jerry's my boss."

"Right. Gotcha." Another pause, and without thinking, I said, "I have a girlfriend now."

"Oh, really? That's wonderful!"

"Well, not really a girlfriend. I mean, we probably will be, eventually, but for now we're just being friends. You know, just to play it safe, see where it goes."

"Ok, gotcha."

"Who knows? She just might be my first ever actual girlfriend."

"Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks."

"You deserve it. You really do."

"Aw, thanks. Well. Uh. I really should be going."

She jumped into my arms and hugged me. "It's so great seeing you again."

"Yeah. You too. So, you'll be there for the show in a couple weeks?"

"Absolutely! Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Excellent! Ok, well… um, yeah! Two weeks! See you then!"

Assuming her bright, peppy anime fangirl mode, she blew me a kiss and said, in a high-pitched voice, "Bye-yee! Mwah!"

I turned around back toward the lot, my heart beginning to race, when I caught myself. I spun around and walked right back into the store, just as Tammy was about to slip into the back storage room.

"Oh, hey, I almost forgot," I said. She turned to look at me, unprepared for this coda as she already clearly thought that goodbyes had already been established.

"What?" she replied, noncommittally.

"I totally forgot the main reason I wanted to see you in the first place. I don't suppose you remember what today is, do you?"

"No. What?"

"It's… Alan and Rachel's first wedding anniversary."

Realization slowly dawned upon her. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"I… I'd completely forgotten. Wow, it's… really?"

"Yeah, I thought you might have. I just wanted to make sure you knew. That day meant a lot to me."

She nodded sadly, and smiled. "Me too."

"Right. Well. See you in a few weeks, then."

"Bye… Heffie."

I don't think I could quite tell you how I felt, driving home and then back to college after seeing her again like that. It was like a pipe dream coming to life, and you wonder if maybe it wasn't better off as a dream. But Tammy was coming down to see my plays. Both of them! Or, at least, she would be down for the first one. Yes, I decided, if she was coming down already, then I would have to step up my timetable. In the two weeks since I visited her I was able to solidify my plans. I was determined to make certain I'd have some alone time with her, in which I would supply her with snacks and booze in an effort to loosen her up and break through that defensiveness, and I had my list order completely memorized, ready to roll. When Saturday night rolled around for the final performance, I was ready for anything.

Anything, that is, except her not showing up.


To Be Concluded...