Chapter 68

Two weeks after meeting Kirk’s parents, I was busy in the kitchen when Kirk entered the apartment. Monday was his day off and he had returned from bringing his car in for an oil change.

“You have to see this,” Kirk said.

“What?”

“Stick your head out the door.”

I was making tomato sauce and wasn’t too neat about it. I wiped my hands and forearms with a dishtowel. Kirk patted the side of his nose and then jabbed a finger at my face from across the room so I dabbed my nose with the dishtowel as well before going to where he was waiting at the door. What was Kirk up to? He had a silly grin on his face. I suspected someone would be waiting on the other side of the door with a practical joke, like dousing me with a bucket of water or a pie in the face. Kirk was known for such pranks. To be safe, I opened the door a crack and peeked out. There was no one there. I turned to Kirk and shrugged.

“Go on,” Kirk said, “look into the hall.”

When I did, I gasped. Moving boxes were stacked against the wall outside Paul’s apartment. Two men in overalls appeared carrying the bedroom dresser that used to hold my clothing. I remembered selecting that bedroom set because I had loved it so much. The two men kept walking toward the elevator. I shut the door and looked at the still smiling Kirk.

“I guess we won’t have to worry about bumping into your ex again,” Kirk said.

Paul was moving. I wondered to where. But since the divorce was finalized, it wasn’t any of my business. We were no longer married. That chapter in my life was over. I felt sad about it anyway. I had hurt Paul and was sorry for that. Why was he moving? Because I was living in the same building? Where could he be moving to? I hoped for his sake not back in with his parents. He needed to move on, not backward.

Later, while we were eating dinner, Kirk asked, “How about coming to this Sunday’s matinee performance? Then we can have dinner in the City. We can go with Byron and a new actress who joined the play.”

“Is she and Byron a thing?”

“Are you jealous?”

I threw the piece of garlic Italian bread I was about to take a bite of at Kirk. It bounced off his chest and landed in his spaghetti. He stretched out the front of his shirt to check for marinara sauce splatters. Finding none, he looked up and chuckled.

“No, Byron and the new girl aren’t a thing. Aha, you are jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I see the way you look at Byron,” Kirk said.

“Oh shut up!”

“He looks at you the same way. Byron likes you and you like him.”

“As a friend,” I said.

“He likes you more than a friend. He’d jump in bed with you in a second.”

“He knows we’re going to be married.”

“He also knows what we discussed.”

“And what was that?” I asked with a smirk, not really understanding the meaning.

“That you’d be open to having sex with another man.”

My jaw dropped. “You didn’t! Oh my god, you did! You told him!”

“It kind of slipped. He was telling me how lucky I was and that he’d jump into bed with you in a minute. I told him that maybe he’d get lucky because you think he’s sexy.”

I blushed. “You told him I thought he was sexy? I told you that in private. That was between me and you! I can’t believe you told him that.”

“Well, Byron would have sex with you if you wanted it.”

“Are you suggesting I have sex with Byron? Why would—?” I slapped the table so hard the silverware rattled. “Oh, I get it. You want to have sex with the new actress.”

“She’s been sending me signals, but I’d never cheat on you.”

“So if I had sex with Byron then it wouldn’t be cheating. Right? It would be okay for you to have sex with the hussy?”

“Her name is Jessica. She’s a nice girl. Look, we talked about this before. No sense hashing over it again. You know how I feel and I think deep down you feel the same way. Let’s drop it, okay? So, do you want to go to the matinee and then dinner?”

“With Byron and the actress?”

“With Byron and Jessica. Or if you want, just you and me.”

I thought about it. I liked Byron. And I wanted to see who this Jessica woman was who was trying to get my fiancé into bed.

“Let’s have dinner with the four of us.” I said.

Nothing else was said about it during dinner or the days that followed.

On Sunday, I sat in the theater waiting for the performance to begin. The seat was off to the side because the actors were given free tickets for seats that hadn’t sold. Kirk’s play never sold out. However, Off-Broadway theaters were smaller than Broadway theaters so no seat was far from the stage. I thumbed through the Playbill until I got to the page that listed the actors. I wanted to see what the new actress looked like. The girl who was sending signals to my man that she wanted to have sex with him. My competition.

Kirk hadn’t told me her last name, but I found a Jessica Anderson who I hadn’t met before. That must be her, I thought as I brought the magazine close to my nose to examine her face in the dim light. But it couldn’t be her. Kirk had said she was a new actress. This Jessica’s photograph was of a woman in her mid-thirties and actors’ headshots were often not current. They always wanted to appear younger. I thumbed through the Playbill, but she was the only one named Jessica.

The play started so I cradled the Playbill in my lap and watched. My coat was wedged between my back and the back of the seat. I wore a sweater, skirt, and boots that almost reached the hem of my skirt which came below my knees when standing. Winter was getting closer and the cold was already biting. Outside that is. It was warm inside the theater. Kirk always complained how hot it was on stage under the lights.

I identified the new actress and watched her closely, waiting for Jessica to make a mistake, but she said her lines flawlessly and her acting was really good. She had more talent than a new actress. I wondered if that’s what the attraction Kirk had to her was. Kirk, of course, was great. He was getting better with each performance. I couldn’t wait for the day I’d be sitting in a Broadway theater watching him.

When the play ended, I made my way backstage where it was nothing like the clean, sanitized lobby and theater. Backstage smelled of sweat, dust, and wood crates. The stage manager and I were well acquainted so we chatted for a while before I went to Kirk’s dressing room. Kirk wasn’t a Broadway star so he didn’t have his own dressing room. He shared one with Byron. When I went in, Byron’s back was to me. He was sitting before a large mirror that was encircled with bright, round light bulbs, removing his makeup.

“Where’s Kirk?” I asked.

Byron looked at my reflection in the mirror. “Not even a ‘Hello, Byron,’” he said.

“Hello, Byron. Where’s Kirk?”

“He’ll be here soon. He went to speak to Jessica. She’s the new girl. You’ll meet her at dinner.”

That caught my attention, and my ire. “Why’s he talking to her?”

“She made a mistake. She didn’t hit her mark.” When I looked confused, he said, “She was out of position. Kirk went to talk to her about it.”

“I didn’t see anything.” I didn’t mention that I was looking for her to make a mistake.

“That’s because of Kirk. He’s a pro. He made the adjustment.”

“So where are they?”

“Dunno. Maybe her dressing room.”

My fingers curled into fists that squeezed the coat I was holding. About to ask where her dressing room was, the door swung open and Kirk, still in full costume and makeup, stepped into the dressing room. He looked at the reflection of Byron in the mirror and then at me.