Page 25 of Forget About Me

“Uh, yeah. Sure. That’s a good idea.” It’s not. It’s an insane idea. Too many memories there. But they’re fond memories. At least we didn’t have sex there like we did in this apartment. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“We can take the van if you want.”

“No.” I try to find that smile again. How is it that he’s not affected by all this? “My car’s out front. I’ll drive.”

It’s a short trip. We used to walk there as kids. I keep the conversation focused on training to keep memories at bay.

“Tell me about the play a little bit more. What sorts of things will you need him to do?”

As Ben describes the various scenes, I keep getting distracted by the sound of his voice. Like so many things about him, it’s the same, but different. That summer, he was twenty-one, about to be a senior in college. His voice wasn’t exactly pitched higher then, but it wasn’t as rich in tone as it is now. Like the rest of him, it was thinner. I never really thought about the sound of his voice before, but in this moment it has me dying to be close to him. To feel its vibrations skin to skin.

He cranes his neck like he’s checking to make sure the park isn’t too crowded. “So, what’s the plan?”

What’s the plan? How about you and me making out in the backseat?

Down, girl. Bad Lucy.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah?”

“What should we do?”

He’s paying you Lucy, and it’s not for sexual favors.“Right.” Turning into the parking lot, I get out of the car as fast as I can, needing distance. Striding into the park, assuming he and Puck will follow, I scan the area. I can hear kids’ voices up in the hills of the forest, but the big field is free.

At Ben’s heel as they enter the park, Puck doesn’t strain at the end of the leash. He takes in the surroundings without losing focus on his master.

When they stop five feet from me and Puck sits without being asked, I nod. “Nice work. You’ve been practicing.”

Ben’s smile is wide. But it’s for the dog. “He’s so smart.”

“Let’s try working off leash. Give him the heel command and challenge him to stay with you by surprising him with turns. If he takes off, say his name sharply followed by the word C-O-M-E.”

Ben follows my commands and successful redirects Puck when they flush out a rabbit. Thankfully, it’s unlikely there will be any of those onstage.

After that, we hike up into the hills. Pushing away the memories of so many afternoons spent playing capture the flag or cops and robbers or just exploring this magical park, I ask, “Do you have your lines memorized yet?”

“Rehearsal hasn’t started, so not really. Just the scene we auditioned with, but that’s all dialogue.”

Sitting on a rock, I point to another rock with a flat top a few feet away. “What if you guys stand there and you just tell me a story, but like, include the dog? I want to see what happens. If he’ll do things that are distracting.”

Ben places Puck on the rock and starts to climb up himself.

“Hang on. Let’s break this down. I think you’re ready to start with non-verbal commands.”

It only takes a few tries and a few treats for Puck to get it. The next time Ben hops up onto the rock, he slaps his thigh twice and the dog scrambles up after him. Ben stands tall, slaps his thigh once and Puck sits. When Ben tries to say “good boy” out of the side of his mouth in the high-pitched tone I told him to use for praise, I get the giggles.

“What? You said I have to talk like that.”

“I know, but you sound ridiculous.”

“Thank you, Ms. Obvious.”

“You’re welcome.” I lean back on my hands. “I guess there’s no chance that Shakespeare wrote ‘good boy’ into any of your speeches?”

“No, mostly Launce is mad at the dog.”

“Hm. That means we’ve got to build up trust between you so he won’t be affected by the anger.”

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