Sometimes It Happens Here Page 14

  She turns, only to flash me a maniacal smile before she goes back to looking straight ahead. “Scary, right?”

  “I assume that’s a rhetorical question and doesn’t require an answer from me,” I mumble, slouching further into my seat. I’m starting to think Hannah and Teran had the right idea about how to approach the long drive home. Sleep would be such a welcome alternative to this conversation. Which is disappointing, given how promising it was when it started.

  “Yes, and -” She does it again. “Having established my ranking of sanity around here and the potential I have for impairing yours, could we go back to the topic at hand?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “A million different things!” I throw her own words back at her.

  She takes them in stride, much better than I did. “I’m going to pass on the breakdown,” she says, gesturing for me to stay quiet. “As I was saying before you interrupted - ” She casts a poignant glare in my direction. “Lilan’s romantic past can make for a dizzying view. I think it’s why she can’t always tell which way she’s looking. Sometimes, the present looks like the future and the future looks like the past. And, that’s been an easy cycle to get lost in around here, where all the faces always look the same and the story never sees enough change to note the progress of it.” She gets quiet again, but now I know better than to say anything to fill the void. “Until now. You’re here. An undeniable change in the story. You’re the plot twist she’s been waiting for. The scary, unexpected turn that could shake up her entire world and turn it completely on its head. And, just maybe, lead to happy every after.”

  I take in what she’s saying. “I’m the plot twist.”

  “Yep.”

  “Alright then.” I can work with this. Every good movie has a great plot twist. And it usually leads to the best possible outcome, beyond what anyone even saw coming. “Thanks for taking your advice to a level I could relate to.”

  She nods. “I’m a teacher, Bodhi. It’s what I do.”

  The drive takes on a different vibe after our chat. There’s no more talk of Lilan or the torturous ways in which Kaleaha may inflict mental damage to me. Instead, we cover new terrain. Her marriage. What it’s like to have a partner in the military, especially while they’re deployed. We discuss how important it is to find your passion in life, and how lucky we are to be following ours. Family dynamics. Friendships. And the odd shenanigan or two, fill every remaining minute of our drive. By the time I’m waving goodbye as she leaves us behind in Hannah’s driveway, I know we’ve moved beyond the cusp of our relationship and landed square at the center of a friendship I sense I will value the rest of my life.

  The days that follow are less eventful when compared to the first days of my visit here. Hannah is at work from sunrise ‘til way past sundown, and once she walks in the door, Teran has her undivided attention. So, I busy myself with the Christmas show preparations. Tweaking the script. Adjusting the order of dances and songs, making everything align with the overall story as best as I can.

  Lilan continues to creep into my thoughts, but that is the extent of her presence in my days. At least until Wednesday. Rehearsal day.

  “She’s not here yet,” Hannah says for what feels like the hundredth time. “Wednesdays Mona has ballet class and it doesn’t get done until five,” she goes on as if on autopilot.

  “It’s five twenty-three,” I inform her, well aware of the schedule I’ve been told about repeatedly since arriving here at three-thirty today. “And I can get from one side of town to the other in twenty minutes or less. It’s not that big a place, Hannah.”

  She flares her nostrils at me, the rest of her face remaining eerily still. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, accepting the unspoken reprimand. “That was bad. Sorry.”

  “It’s all good.” She pats my arm in what I’m assuming is meant to be comforting but comes across a bit condescending. Actually, I may be making this assumption based on my own preference. It’s Hannah. It probably wasn’t a comforting gesture. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going Lilan crazy if you promise to rein it in a bit.”

  “I’m going to rein it in a lot.” I’ve been perfectly sane for days, no need to lose it now just because I’m faced with the prospect of spending some time with her again. “Might help if you give me something to do though. I’ve been wandering around backstage for a good thirty minutes without a job. Everything seems to be covered already.”

  She makes a face. “Yeah. I mean, we do put this show on every year. People are pretty set with their routines.”

  I resist the urge to act crazy again, though this time it would be Hannah related. “Then why did you ask me to come here and help you?”

  She shrugs. “Don’t know. We were talking. You said you had nothing going on through the new year. The words just kind of spilled out.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Mostly.” She grins. “Or maybe I just didn’t want to do my job and thought you could fill in.”

  “You’re ridiculous. Even if you didn’t love your job, you’re way too into micromanaging everything to let me anywhere near this show with any sort of power.”

  “True,” she concedes. “Guess it’s a good thing I had a real reason for dragging your ass down here.” She presses the clipboard she’s been holding against my chest. “Here. Made this for you. It’s just like mine only with your fancy new title on it. All official like.”

  I take it, slowly scanning the paper. “Wait. You want me to direct? Isn’t that literally your job here in this production?”

  She sways her head back and forth. “It’s like one of seven jobs. And you’re not directing the whole thing, just the play part. That way I can focus more on the overall production.” She starts to walk away and stops. Turning over her shoulder she adds, “Of course, that also means you’ll have to work closely with the set creators and collaborate on the concept so that it coincides with your vision for the play. But I don’t foresee that being a problem for you.” Then she winks and more or less skips away. I notice she does that a lot lately. Skips. Haven’t seen her do it in years. Used to be her main mode of movement. Then, college got stressful, things became less fun, and the carefree skipping kind of faded away. I like seeing it make a comeback, even if it weirds me out that Teran is likely to blame for it.

  “Hey!”

  I spin around at the sound of her voice, smiling like an idiot before I’m even facing her. “Hey, yourself.”

  Finally. Two days seemed like forever.

  “Is that the director’s clipboard?” Lilan asks, pointing.

  “It would appear I’ve been promoted.” I look around in search of Mona. “Where’s you mini-ballerina?”

  “Auntie Leaha snagged her two seconds through the door,” she says, a half sigh, half laugh following her words. “Apparently, she’s found the perfect solo only my kid can perform.”

  “Mona’s going to be in the show?” I’m not surprised. Well, I am. But only because it’s a high school production.

  “It’s like one line in the entire song, but Kaleaha said it could only be delivered in its truest sentiment if Mona took the job.” She rolls her eyes. “Needless to say, my child leapt at the opportunity.”

  “She’s got star quality.”

  “And she knows it.” Lilan starts to shift her weight back and forth, from one foot to the other. I notice I’m doing the same. It’s because we’ve reached the end of our small talk and neither of us is ready for it to be over.

  “Uh, so, Hannah informs me I now have creative input where the set is concerned. Do I talk to you about that?”

  She smiles and I notice how tense she’s been when I watch her body slowly begin to relax. Starting with her jaw and working its way down until her feet are no longer cemented in place and she begins to move in more natural ways than her previous shift from side to side. “You absolutely talk to me about that. Well,” she amends her initial enthusiasm. “Me and Ruben. Though,
the last couple of years he’s more or less let me run the show.” She makes a face, rethinking her words. “You know what I mean.”

  “For once, I do,” I tease. She catches it instantly and smirks.

  “Yeah, yeah.” She starts to turn and head for the stage. “Come on, funny boy. Let’s talk sets and see if we can continue to stay on the same page for a while.”

  That’s pretty much my main goal in life moving forward.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LILAN

  I’ve been telling myself for days that I would not pay any attention to Bodhi James if we crossed paths today, and then what do I do the second I step into the theater? I make a beeline straight for him. Because I’m addicted. Addicted to Bodhi James and the stupid, but ever so delightful, warm fuzzy feeling he makes stir-crazy at the pit of my stomach. It’s bad, really. Even when he wasn’t around, I found myself thinking of him and bursting into fits of giggles from the sheer giddiness of having this...crush.

  It’s embarrassing. Mama has been pointing and laughing at me for days. Mona, thankfully, seems oblivious to my current condition. But I know Hannah and Kaleaha will not be so easy to fool.

  Especially not now that he’s here again. In my presence. Making my palms sweaty and my mouth twitch with the ever pressing need to grin like a giddy idiot.

  “So,” I say, reminding myself that I have a job to do and that he’s now my boss. Sort of. “What did you have in mind?” I stop in the center of the stage, spreading my arms out in opposite directions to indicate our space and endless possibilities.

  With the stage.

  And the set.

  Obviously, Lilan.

  “Since the story is centered around the characters remembering their Christmases past around traditions and such, we have a lot of freedom on the setting of it. I was thinking it would be cool to give things a sort of Christmas in the city vibe,” he starts, wandering the space and taking it all in as he strolls in circles around me. “You guys have the small-town Christmas thing covered, I mean, it’s like Santa’s village out there. Especially now that it’s snowing. So, let’s do something totally different. Something not everyone in town gets to see all the time.”

  “I like it. Tell me more.” I start to fall into step beside him, letting my mind wander to the sound of his imagination.

  “Have you ever been to New York City at Christmas?” he asks, pausing his shuffling about.

  “I’ve never been to New York City, period.” I’ve never had any interest. Until just now. When he asked and I suddenly wanted to be able to say yes, just to have seen the things he’s seen. “But, I’ve watched plenty of movies set in the city,” I add.

  “That’ll work.” He grins, then begins his pacing across stage again. “I’m thinking Radio City and the Rockettes, the tree lighting and ice skating at Rockefeller Center and the Union Square Christmas Markets. Can we capture those, you think?”

  “I think I love it!” My creative brain is already tinkering away at all the ways I can bring his vision to life. “Let me get with the school’s art department and see if I can recruit a few students for this too. Some of those kids are crazy talented, you’ll be amazed at the way their brains work, the spin they put on things. Especially a New York City canvas. They’ll go nuts over it.”

  “Yeah?” His amber eyes light up as if on fire. “Awesome! Maybe we can set something up this week? Sit down with them, brainstorm some ideas?”

  “I’ll make the call tomorrow morning and set something up.” His enthusiasm is catching. Or maybe it’s the prospect of spending extra time with him that’s making me this excited. “Any particular time work best for you?”

  He shakes his head in a thoughtful no. “Outside of rehearsals, I’ve got nothing going on.”

  “Really?” Off topic, but I can’t help myself. “What are you and Teran doing all day long when you’re not here?”

  He sighs dramatically. “Not a goddamn thing.” Then he laughs at himself. “Well, maybe a few goddamn things. Mostly, when we’re not needed for the show, we’re just hanging around the house waiting for Hannah to get home. Then things get a little more active. Well, for Teran anyway. Me, I find myself hanging out with Fizz more and more as of late.”

  “Teran and Hannah are really doing this thing, huh?” I kind of already knew that. She’s been texting me around the hour, filling me in on all things mission ‘Give Love a Go’. So far, the feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. “Told you they were a good match.”

  “Yeah,” he grins sheepishly. “I figured I had an I told you so coming my way.”

  “Well, since you’re taking your defeat so gracefully, how about I do you a favor and get you out of the house tomorrow.” The words spill from my lips before I can stop them, before I even fully knew that I thought them.

  “That would be quite the favor.” Obviously, he’s aware I’m having second thoughts already. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Depends.” I bite my lip in a last-ditch effort to abort my invitation, but it’s useless. “Would you consider yourself a morning person?”

  “Define morning.”

  It’s an answer in itself. Only non-morning people have a time that they deem an acceptable morning hour.

  “Five a.m.” I lock eyes with him and force my mouth into a straight line. Years of telling people what time I start to work every day has taught me it requires a stern expression if you expect anyone to believe you’re serious.

  “I mean, your morning and my middle of the night are overlapping, but that’s cool. I could hang out with you in the middle of the night,” he says, face just as serious as mine. “What exactly do people do in the middle of the night around here?”

  Finally, I crack. “Stop calling it the middle of the night!” I insist, but I’m laughing and there’s nothing stern about me, so I’m thinking taking me seriously is out. “Five a.m. is well within the morning hours.”

  “I disagree.” He pulls himself up taller and crosses his arms over his chest. “Five a.m. is like a smidgen past midnight, which obviously, is not morning.”

  “What?!” Unbelievable. “Tell me then, in the Bodhi James Universe, what time does morning officially begin?”

  “Nine a.m. Obviously.” He unfolds one arm to use his pointer finger for gesturing as he goes on, “And by the way, that’s the everyone outside of the Lilan Rossi Universe-Universe. There’s no such thing as the Bodhi James Universe.”

  “Right. So, I’m living in the Lilan Rossi Universe then?”

  “At five a.m.? Hells yeah.”

  “Alright.” I half shrug as I slide my hands into my pockets.

  “Alright what?”

  “Alright, you win,” I explain sadly. “We live in separate universes. I guess that means we can’t hang out after all.”

  “Wait. No,” he begins to backpedal instantly. “Hanging out was never the issue. Defining five a.m. as morning, that was the argument. And winning that is great, but it in no way affects our plans.”

  “Well,” I say, twisting my mouth up. “It kind of does. I’m a super sore loser. So, you know, hanging out with you is no longer of interest to me.”

  “You’re serious.”

  I make him sweat it out a good second or two. “Not even remotely.” I bump his side with my elbow and start walking toward the edge of the stage where I dropped my bags and tool belt when I came in. “Be ready for your middle of the night pick up and we’ll go do some things I bet you’ve never done in the middle of the night before.” I wiggle my brows at him in a suggestive but completely silly sort of way.

  “I’m intrigued.” We both stop when I reach my stuff and he squats down alongside me as I start to dig through my bag in search of the tin filled with leftover graham crackers from our day trip to the cabin. “Is there a dress code for this outing? Do I need to bundle up? Bring swimming trunks? What?”

  I locate the tin, but stop short of yanking it out of the bag and waving it triumphantly through the air when I hea
r the words swimming trunks. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I’m just trying to cover all my bases.”

  “In that case,” I say, retrieving my tin with far less flair than I had initially planned. “No. To all your questions. Just dress normal.” I press the tin against his chest. “Here.”

  He takes it, turning it around as if searching for a label or some clue as to what’s inside. “What is it?”

  “The only hint I’m giving you.” I get up, grabbing my tool belt as I do. “Alright, Mister Director. Better get to work and see what I can create for your New York City extravaganza.”

  “You’re really not going to tell me anything else about what we’re doing?” he asks.

  “Nope.” I wave and start walking away. I’m probably halfway across the stage when I hear the tin pop open.

  “Graham crackers? Are we making more s’mores?” he calls out after me, but I don’t turn around. Just grin to myself as I keep walking. “Lilan!”

  “See you a smidgen past midnight,” I yell back, just before I slip past the curtains and disappear in the back.

  Come five o’clock the following morning, I’m just as giddy I was the moment I walked away from him. Bundled up and holding a hot thermos of coffee, I rap my knuckles softly over Hannah’s door. It only takes a second before I hear stirring inside, followed by the door opening.

  “Good after midnight,” I greet him in a hushed voice. “I come bearing hot and caffeinated presents of the coffee variety.” I laugh at my own joke as I hand him the thermos.

  “Thank you.” He graciously accepts with one hand while using the other to pull the door shut behind him. “This makes being up at this hour so much better already.”

  “Coffee will do that, I suppose.” Personally, I would require tea.

  “I meant you.” He smiles. “But the coffee is nice, too.”

  “I’m going to leave you standing here on her front doorstep if you don’t knock that off,” I warn him.

  “Not a middle of the night person, I take it?” he teases, following me down the walkway to where my truck is parked in the road in front of her house.