Page 83 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“Why would I laugh?”
“Because it’s impossible,” she said, exasperated.
“Only if you never do it,” I said.
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “That is true. Well, if I could do anything ... I’ve always dreamed of being in the movies.”
“The movies? Like an actress?”
She nodded fervently. “I love them. Acting, too, the whole pretending that you’re someone else.”
I hadn’t expected that. I knew from experience that being someone else was overrated, but I was curious. “Why not simply be you?”
She grinned. “Don’t you see, Jimi? That’s the beauty of it. I’d get to be meandanyone else I wanted. I’ve always liked acting. Playing with my sisters outside after church. Pirates, fairies, goblins, anything we wanted, and it didn’t matter that we were little Black girls in Bessemer, Alabama. We were whoever our minds could be. I went to school to be a teacher because it’s respectable, but I went to the theater and plays. We’d put on Shakespeare—Taming of the Shrew,Macbeth,Hamlet. One time, I was Ophelia.” She gazed into the distance, the ice cream dripping off her spoon, the memory playing. “I can hear the applause now. Much better than what we typically get around here,” she said, gesturing as an empty bus trundled by, lumbering into the distance.
“I’m sure you could do a play here once all this is over.”
“I guess I could,” she said, “but if we’re talking about dreams, being in movies would be the biggest one I could get.”
“Well, you’re pretty enough to do it—talented too. I can see it in the way you command a room.” I squinted down at my bowl. “I could see you lighting that screen, the audience caught up in your glow. Lost in your storytelling.”
Gabby blushed. “You writers with your flattering words.”
“So that’s it then. You become a Hollywood actress and grace the silver screen. What else?”
“Oh, why, after a fabulous career with an Academy Award or two, I’d travel the world, seeing all there is to see.” She paused, a distant look in her eye as if gazing into the future. “Did you know I’ve only been to two places? Georgia and Alabama. I read all these books about all different cities—even countries—but I’ve never gotten the chance to see them. I want to do more than just read about it. I want to experience it.”
Desire bloomed like a rare orchid within me. I could imagine traveling with her, experiencing the world once more and through her eager eyes. I could afford it, but would she want to go with me if she knew how I felt?
I licked my lips, sweet from the ice cream. “Where would you go if you could?”
“I can show you better than I can tell you.” I held her bowl while she dug into her purse and came up quickly with a bundle of postcards, tied with a string.
I fanned them out, then flipped through the stack. They were old, one side blank for addressing, the other brilliantly colored, depicting vibrant scenes from the locations—a man surfing on the ocean, a food stall at a market in the afternoon, and a woman dancing in the street—all moments of beauty captured on the cards. They were from all over—from Havana, Bangkok, Cairo, and Casablanca to Manila and Honolulu, Hawaii—over fifty in total.
“You want to go to all of them?”
“As many as I could,” she said, laughing.
“How’d you get these?”
“My mother used to clean for this woman. She had this box of postcards and things she had collected to display. I’d look at it every chance I’d get. My mom asked for the box when she died.”
She picked one up from the pile and brushed her shoulder against mine. “I could always imagine a different life with these. Imagine seeing the Great Wall of China or dancing in the streets of Buenos Aires. I’d want to see the whole world and live it myself.”
There it was again. That undeniable feeling. It was beyond friendship. Dangerously so. I knew what it meant to love a woman and the challenges we could face. That didn’t make my feelings any easier.
“Well, that’s only two things,” I said, enumerating with my free fingers. “Become a famous actress and then travel the world. Seems simple enough.”
She snorted, taking back her ice cream bowl. “So, it’s that easy?”
“You’re better off than most. At least you have a dream.”
“A dream can be like this here ice cream. Nice and safe tucked back in the freezer, or a big melting mess if you take it out and try to have it all.”
“True, but you’d never know how sweet it is until you taste it.” I hadn’t expected my voice to sound so husky or to find myself focusing on her full lips. “Sometimes the mess is worth it.”
A moment passed between us, electric, the air razor edged.Have I said too much? Am I wrong about her after all?
