Act 2, Scene 16
|
|
Did you ever have one of those
days that seems like everything's going to be ultimately perfect, then
something comes along to fuck it all up, but then, by some miracle, it
turns around again and things are going well, only to have your hopes dashed
again, sometimes again and again so that in the end you're exhausted and
irritable all the way through the next day? I hope so. I'd hate to think
I was being singled out for this privilege. As mentioned, an opera had been serenading us nightly through their open window during rehearsals as we sat on the wall on the edge of the town, watching the sunset and eating gelato. The company was leaving to travel Italy, but before they left they were doing a kickoff performance in Cortona. I asked Heather to go to the opera with me. No, its not my style of music and I was burnt out on theater at a young age after being raised backstage by a set designer and director father. But the idea of being in a dark theater box, sipping from a smuggled bottle of wine, possibly disappearing behind the banister onto the floor with Heather, sounded perfect. I didnt tell her my fantasy, hoping to surprise her. She accepted the invite, with the same reservations about opera as my own. But shed try anything once. I picked up a bottle of our favorite vino and found out what time that nights show was, then tried to finish my painting for the student show. I was not in the mood to paint and quickly got impatient, finally giving up. Then it looked like Heather wouldnt have time to make it since she needed to finish her work for the student show as well. So I helped and together we worked our asses off, finally resorting to massive power tools to carve her wooden puppet project instead of the slow and steady method. We argued a bit about how to get it done. I was out of patience. I just wanted her to give it up for the night and get ready for the show, but she couldnt let it go so we stayed until it was finished. |
|
We hurried to the dorm to get ready. I was hyper with hormones and beaming
with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head. Or some kind of visions
dancing in my head. I got a shower, dressed in my one set of semi-nice
clothes and headed to Heathers room to pick her up. |
|
It turned out the theater was
the building at which wed received the towns marching band
welcome, the one that sounded like a melting phonograph. I hoped this
evenings musical entertainment was a vast improvement. Fuck. |
|