Page 18 of Forget About Me

“Guess we have to bite the bullet, buddy. Fingers crossed for good news.” He has no response, so I just push the button.

“Hullo, Ben. It’s Nick. We’d like to offer you the role of Launce. Congratulations. Deb is pushing hard for Puck as well, but I’m not so certain that it will work. If you have a trainer who can assure me that he won’t be out of control during a performance, I’ll consider it. We don’t have a budget to pay one, but we can offer a half page of advertising in the program. Let me know, but in any case, we’re looking forward to having you and Bella as our clowns. Becky will be in touch with details. Cheers.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding and laugh out loud. Not only am I over the moon to play Launce, but now I have an excuse to call Lucy. I have no idea what to do about the untold truths that still loom between us and I know it’s selfish, but I want to see her again.

She might tell me to shove the idea of training my dog where the sun don’t shine.

But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

CHAPTER SIX

“Good Girls Don’t” - The Knack

Lucy’s Copacetic Shagadelic Mixtape, Song #6

LUCY

Saturday morning, it’s hot and sticky for August. By the time I get to church, every crease of my dress is damp and my stocking-encased legs feel like sausages, so the cool and dark of the confessional is welcome. I kneel and make the sign of the cross just as the screen slides open and Father Signorelli says the usual greeting—in Latin, even though he’s supposed to have switched to the post-Vatican II form. I’m glad our church does things the traditional way. When I went to the Newman Center the few months I was at UMass, getting general absolution didn’t feel like enough, but the alternative they offered—sitting face to face to confess to a priest—was too embarrassing.

I dab my brow with a tissue before beginning. “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been two weeks since my last confession. These are my sins. I snapped at a coworker because she asked me some irritating questions, and I yelled at my brothers for leaving their dishes in the sink. I have been uncharitable toward an old, um… friend because I’m still angry at him for things he did a long time ago. I talked him into buying things he didn’t need to because… because I wanted him to suffer.”

“Hmm. Those are unbecoming behaviors in a young woman.”

“Yes, Father.For these and any other sins that I cannot remember, I humbly ask pardon of God and penance and absolution of thee, Father."

“Do your rosary and say five Our Fathers for your penance.”

I bow my head, say the Act of Contrition and do my best to focus as Father prays for my forgiveness.

When I step out of the box and into the incense-laden air, the weight of my sins doesn’t lift from my shoulders like it usually does, probably because I neglected to confess the many, many lustful thoughts that’ve set up camp in my nether regions.

I guess you could argue that I’m preventing harm by omitting those sins because if Father Signorelli heard what I’ve been up to alone in my bed at night, he’d surely have a stroke.

When I return from my lunch break on Monday, I’m greeted by Cindy in full-on puppy mode.

“Oh my god, that Ben Porter left you a message, Lucy!”

Stowing my purse in my locker, I spend more time than necessary changing back into my scrub top. I spent the break running errands—picking up a prescription for my dad and stocking up on toiletries for the family while I was at the pharmacy. I might’ve also picked up a few magazines which might just happen to contain a few revealing photos of Ben. It isn’t a sin to just look, right?

When I close my locker door, Cindy’s right there on the other side. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yes?” A balloon of hope floats up. I haul it back down to earth. No need to get all excited. He probably just has another question about the dog. I scan the corkboard where notes are usually pinned up. “Where’s the message?”

She finally stops bouncing up and down. “He didn’t call. He came in while you were out and I got to talk to him.” She whispers this like it’s the most exciting thing to have happened in weeks. Maybe it is. Although watching a dog yak up an entire package of tube socks last week was pretty entertaining.

“Oh. Okay.” I keep my tone cool, with some effort. “What was the message?”

“He asked me to ask you if you’d train his dog so it can be in a play! I wish I knew about animal training! How did you learn?” She grabs my forearm. “Do you need an assistant?”

Not sure where to start, I just nod. And then shake my head no. By the time my head’s circling, I realize something. “Did he leave a number?”

Cindy narrows her eyes. “Don’t you have his number?”

I don’t want to think about all this right now, so I exit the breakroom. “I guess I can get it from his chart if it’s not the same.”

She’s at my heels, nipping away with her questions. “Same what?”

“Um. Same everything. Number, house. Because he’s like… famous now?”

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