Page 70 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
I don’t like thinking about that.
Keira plops down on a bench. “I have no idea if I did the right thing or not. But I didn’t ask for any of this, you know? Now suddenly it’s my job to tell Eugene and destroy yet another relationship?”
I sit down beside her and place a hand on her knee. “First of all, you haven’t destroyed any relationship. Not yours and certainly not Eugene’s. Any responsibility for that falls squarely on Tagg and whatshername’s shoulders.”
Keira nods, and we fall silent for a bit, watching the holiday shoppers milling around.
“Her name is Elinor,” she says after a moment. “I told you that, right? Elinor. With and ‘I’ and no ‘E’ at the end. What were her parents thinking?”
I don’t bring up the fact that Keira named her children Sutton, Sloane, and Sylvan like a little collection of bougie S-babies running their own law firm. They’re adorable kids, and the names suit them. I guess.
“Yeah, what were they thinking?” I say in solidarity.
“I barely know the guy, you know?” Keira says sadly. “It just doesn’t feel like my place to blow up his life like that.”
I don’t feel right about this.
“I hear what you’re saying, but?—”
“Penny? It’s not my place.” She stands, her decision made. “I’m not telling Eugene.” She hesitates before saying, “And I need you to promise me something.”
“What’s that?” I stand beside her.
“Promise me that you won’t tell Matt either.”
Chapter 18
Matt
I’m watching Penny finish the Menorahsaurus Dance Battle scene that she started with the kids last Wednesday. I may be biased, but I think it’s fucking brilliant.
The scripting I did for this scene was super minimal. All I had written down was “The Menorahsauruses battle each other to determine whose light is the brightest before ultimately deciding they are better when they all shine together.”
Penny took that tiny bit of instruction and absolutely ran with it.
Now, here I am watching a stage full of eight to ten-year-olds roaring, battling, and dancing their hearts out with a big cheeseball grin on my face.
The music cuts out, and the kids strike their final pose. Penny and I both leap to our feet.
“Yes, kiddos!” Penny cheers. “That was so good!”
“You rule, friends!” I say, applauding beside her. “We’re so proud of you all! Can everyone thank Penny for this epic choreography?”
“Thank you, Penny,” they all singsong, some in their regular voices, others in their “dino voices” that Penny helped them develop last week.
The bell rings for the end of this period.
“Perfect timing.” I clap my hands once, and everyone circles up like we always do at the end of rehearsal. I crouch down on their level. “Alright, friends! Excellent work! Remember, the show is on Sunday, December 22nd. That is now officially less than two weeks away. Tickets go on sale tonight. You can all grab an order form at the podium on your way out of the auditorium, okay?”
“Yes, Mr. B!” they say in unison.
“Closing on three?”
The whole group, including Penny, shouts, “One…two…three!” and does our elaborate group handshake before they all disperse.
Man, I love this crew.
Penny hangs back and waits for me. At least it seems like she’s waiting for me? It’s entirely possible I’m imagining it. Or putting meaning on something that isn’t actually there. But this happened last rehearsal, too. When she could have just rushed off and headed back to Herald’s, she didn’t.
