“Did you know Brian came by tonight?” Fenn said, climbing onto the bed where Todd was reading.
“Brian Brian?”
“Um hum.”
Todd sighed, “I guess he can’t get enough of you.”
“It was funny. He came to apologize.”
“He should have come… what, seven, eight years ago?”
“I don’t remember,” Fenn waved it off. “But… It was really… I don’t know,” Fenn shook his head.
“It made me realize how fortunate I was to have you.
“I mean, Tom’s a good man, but you are my man, and… if nothing had happened, what would have happened when you came around? No, no, I’m glad everything turned out the way it did, and I never thought I’d say that.”
Todd put down his book.
“I have always wondered… what would happen if Icheated on you?”
“Are you planning to?”
“No. No! But… it’s just that... you and Tom loved each other, and Brian… I know cheating is a big deal, but it seems like you all could have gotten past Brian Babcock.”
Fenn put his head on the pillow.
“I have thought about that, really.”
“And?”
“I was younger then. I was different then. And Tom was Tom. And not you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you have a longer leash.”
Todd grinned.
“So if you found me banging away on someone.”
“I better not find you banging away on anyone but me.”
Todd laughed. “I promise, you are the only slut I’ll be fucking.”
“That’s right sir.”
Fenn grew quiet.
“Back then I needed to start again, and I needed not to be the kind of person who put up with what Tom did, and what he did was so painful in so many ways. Now, I’m too old not to forgive. You and I are different, Todd. We could work anything out. I think. I think… I’m sure that some people are just meant to be what they are. We’re meant to be what we are Todd. ”
Todd put his head on the pillow beside Fenn whose eyes were closed.
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
“No,” Fenn told him, and yawned. “But I believe you’re mine.”
“Milo!”
“Ey, Layla.” Milo greeted her as she shut the locker.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you know what the hell is going on with Dena?”
Milo frowned. “No… I guess she needs more time with Brendan. Which is cool. I mean they are together. I still miss her, though.”
“Yeah,” Layla said, distractedly. “Well, I know something’s strange, but she won’t tell me and that’s making no sense because she has always told me everything.”
“Kids,” Milo quipped with a hooked grin, “gotta let ‘em grow up.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Layla said. “The worst part is: me worrying about her shit makes me the Black Girl.”
“What?”
“You know. On the soap or on the TV show the white girl has all this interesting shit happening. And then she’s got this best friend, sidekick. The Jew Girl, the Fat Girl or the Black Girl. And she ain’t got shit else to worry about except the pretty white girl.”
Milo snorted and slammed his locker.
“Okay, firstly,” he said, recovering, “Dena’s two thirds Arab. And secondly, your mom’s divorcing your dad who has a secret family, so I think you have lots to worry about.”
“Well, you got me—Shit!”
“What?”
“Milo, can you give me a ride to the playhouse? My mother said Fenn had something to give to me, and she wanted it for dinner tonight. I promised her I’d be there… Right now actually.”
Milo jangled his keys.
“See!” he said merrily, “Black Girl does have problems.”
“Next!” Fenn called out, and as the boy rose from his seat, Fenn said, “And everyone, don’t be afraid to annunciate, to project yourself. To be goooood, for God’s sake. The only thing you have to be afraid of is not getting the part.
“All right, young sir, your name?”
“Julian Lawden. Reading for the part of Richard.”
“All right now!”
“I took something from Raisin in the Sun.”
“Ambitious,” Tom commented.
Julian winked with a Fenn like smile and said, “If you always aim low, you’ll never hit anything.”
Fenn chuckled and climbed down the steps while Julian began, with Tara reading for the part of Beneatha.
In the seats beside Fenn, Lee steepled his fingers and said, “He’s good, Fenn. I’m not telling you how to cast, but I am saying, when I pictured the young Black man I pictured something like that boy up there.”
Fenn nodded, without smiling, which meant he was appraising and he heard Layla’s voice behind him.
“Fenn, Mama sent me.”
“Oh,” Fenn turned to her. “Can you get it yourself, Lay? Or let me get it after he finishes.”
“Who is he?” Milo whispered.
“Never seen him,” Fenn shrugged. “He’s trying out for Lee’s play.”
“And if I had anything to say about it, he would get it,” Lee hissed. “Now shut the hell up and let’s listen.”
When Julian was finished, he turned to them and Fenn shouted up, putting his hands together over and over: “That—was good.”
“That was terrific,” Tom said offstage and, for a brief second, the boy broke into a fierce smile.
“We can let you know by tomorrow,” Fenn told him coming off stage.
“He was pretty good,” Milo said beside Layla.
Layla said nothing.
When Fenn picked up on this, he looked at her and said, “What’s with you? You know him or something?”
“Something.” She said.
Lee turned slowly around and regarded her.
“That boy walking off the stage?” Layla said, pointing to Julian. “That—is my father’s bastard.”
In the seat beside her in the dark theatre, the young man whispered to Claire: “He’s really good.”
She nodded her head, thought about it, and then said, “He’s my brother.”
“Get out!”
“Yeah,” Claire whispered eagerly and as the curtain went down. She clapped her hands.
The young man beside her looked at his program: “Paul Anderson. So you’re…”
“Claire Anderson,” she said, turning to him with a smile.
“Wow, from East Carmel.”
“Why’d you say it like that?”
“There is a rumor,” he said, “that Black people aren’t safe in East Carmel after sunset.”
“Well, fifty years ago it was probably true,” Claire told him. “Everyone likes to say it’s not, but it probably was. Hell, even twenty-five years ago. But the truth is, if you come to East Carmel, sir, everyone will stare at you just because they’re dying to see a Black face. Look at me. I’ve been dying sense I got into town. Aren’t you dying, Matty?”
“What?” irritated, her brother, who had been talking to her mother, turned to them.
“Nothing,” Claire decided, judiciously.
“Oh,” the boy said beside her, “I’m Julian. Julian Lawden.”
“Wow, you sound like a soap opera character,” she said.
“You know, us big city Rossford people.”
Claire laughed and said, “Until you’ve come to East Carmel, you don’t know how big city Rossford really is.”
Then, sitting back in her seat as the curtains reopened, she offered her hand and said, “Julian Lawden, pleased to meet you.”
“YOU WERE TERRIFIC! You were all terrific!” Tom said. “Weren’t they terrific?”
Fenn, looking up from his glass of champagne, nodded half amused, and said, “I agree. Everyone was…” he swirled the glass around, “terrific.”
“I am so proud,” Mrs. Anderson declared. “To come all the way up here and see my son!” She reached up and grasped him by the shoulders. “All on stage like a real Broadway person.”
“Well, I’m not quite Broadway, Ma,” Paul blushed.
“Hey,” said Fenn, “the Lighthouse is as good as Broadway.”
“Damn straight,” Todd declared, though Tom only smiled.
Outside the crowd was still milling about, leaving the theatre, and Brian arrived backstage from that door the same time Lee came in from the parking lot declaring:
“It’s really barbaric how you can’t smoke in here!”
Brian looked at Tom, and then at Lee. Fenn wondered if he was the only person who had seen the look, but when he turned to Todd he knew he wasn’t. They both nodded sagely.
Brian walked up to Paul and Leona, straight backed, and held out his hand with a flashing smile. “That was a brilliant job you all did tonight.”
“Hey,” Paul said, looking like East Carmel, all gee willickers, “without your music we couldn’t have done anything.”
Brian nodded manfully, Fenn reminded himself it was not his job to watch Brian, and then Claire touched him on the arm.
“Claire?”
“I met the most … I met someone who reminded me of you tonight?”
“Impossible!”
“I know,” Claire said, only half joking. “But… his name was Julian. And then I remembered meeting Layla, and isn’t her last name, Lawden?”
Fenn frowned and said, “You met Julian Lawden?”
“Yes. I guess you know him? Is he related? Bad?”
“No,” Fenn said slowly. “He is Layla’s half brother. Not related to me at all.”
“Oh,” Claire said. Then she said. “The way you said that… Are you going to tell me why he’s Layla’s half brother?”
“Sure. What the hell.”
Fenn leaned in. “Layla’s father had a mistress, apparently the whole time he was married to my sister. That’s his son, and Layla just found out about him a few months ago.”
“Oh,” Claire said. “Well, crap. That is… crappy.”
Then she said, “But he’s still cute.”
“You going back to E.C. tonight?”
“No,” Mrs. Anderson said. “Adele Lawden is putting us up for the night. I love this town.”
“I love Layla’s shoes,” Claire said.
“God, aren’t there any guys in this town?” Matt said.
Fenn shrugged and said, “You could stay with us.”
Todd looked at him and said, “If Dena’s coming over, then Matt might not want to be in a houseful of girls.”
“There is nothing wrong,” Claire stated, “with a houseful of girls.”
“No,” Matt agreed. “Not if you’re a girl. Great,” he said to Todd, “I’ll take you all up on the offer.”
Paul looked over at Fenn with a frown.
“Eveything’ll be fine,” Fenn told him.
Paul shrugged, kissed his mother, ruffled his sister’s hair, and said “I’m gonna take Mom’s car back to the house, then.”
Paul waved back at them and headed down Dempsey Street. Late at night it was no longer busy, and the crowds had died off. The parking lot was not close, and Paul had been walking a bit when a car pulled up beside him, and the power window went down.
He was shocked, and then he looked in and saw Brian Babcock.
“Would you like to grab a drink?” he said.
Paul looked at Brian, and then he cocked his head and said, “Sure. Yes.”
Brian nodded and leaned over, unlocking his passenger door.
“Get in.”
