Page 30 of Take a Chance on Me

He chews on his lip, and I want to ask him so many questions. Why did he want to be someone else? What happened next? Why is he telling me this? But for once, I mash my lips together and wait patiently. Or mostly patiently as my finger has started tapping against my leg. I try to still it because I can see he needs to take this one step at a time.

“So, the next year, I auditioned and I got cast. My parents weren’t very supportive of anything fanciful like a play, so I waited until opening night to tell them about it. I invited them to come, but they refused as I expected they would.”

“Derek, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” I want to reach out and touch his arm, but something holds me back.

“Thank you, but that’s not the worst part.” He takes another long slow breath. “Without telling me, they decided to come to the final performance, but on the way to the theater, they were killed in a car accident.”

And now I know what was holding me back and why he seems so nervous. My hand flies to my mouth because I have no words. What do you even say to that?

“If it hadn’t been for that play, for me wanting to act, they’d still be here today.” This time his hand rubs the back of his neck.

I think about telling him he doesn’t know that, but I imagine others have said the words before me, so I simply place my hand on his arm and say, “I’m sorry.”

He nods. “When that happened, I told myself that if I’d just done what they wanted, if I’d stayed structured and scheduled, they wouldn’t have been killed. I gave up any thoughts of acting and went back to my routine. I’m not saying I’ve ever been unstructured - most of that was instilled by my parents for so long that it is my nature - but I’ve been denying myself anything that wouldn’t fit their definition. I’ve told myself I was happy, but I don’t think I am.”

His hand covers mine. “Spending time with you this week has shown me that I’m not really happy, and, after discussing it with my friends and wrestling with it all night, I’ve decided to stop denying myself the things I enjoy. I like acting, and so if the offer stands, l say we do it.”

I have a million questions I want to ask about everything he just laid down. How much of his persona is natural and what parts have been forced? Does he still want to continue in advertising or is he going to pursue acting? But it is obvious he has said all he is going to on the subject for now, so I swallow my questions down for another time. “I don’t know. I might not even be able to dance.” But there is a part of me that really wants to make Adam jealous.

“When is the wedding?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s a week away. Your ankle will be fine by then, and we can look at the wedding like a celebration for when we win the promotion contest.”

His words dampen the mood as we remember that we are in a competition against each other if we win. Slowly, he pulls his hands from mine, but it is clear that something has shifted between us. The question now is what happens if we actually do win? I table the thought for tonight, after Derek’s gone, and focus on the time with him instead. “Right, well we better get to work on this site then so we have something to show them.”

“And so we can beat Mark,” he says, and I can’t help but smile.

CHAPTER14

Derek

Monday morning rollsaround faster than I expected, and I find myself waking up before my alarm clock. I hurry through the shower and breakfast, whistling as I get ready. I can't remember the last time I whistled, but I’m excited to see Katie again. I’m even a little excited to see what she has in store for the day. Or what the eight ball might have in store for us.

As I grab my keys and coat, I glance around the apartment. It hasn’t changed, but I feel like I am changing. Like maybe I have been shutting off a part of myself in order to please my parents. Is Daring Derek who I was really meant to be? Who I would have been if my parents hadn’t squashed him as a little kid and then been killed in the accident? I shake my head and exit the apartment. Baby steps. There’s no need to jump into what ifs right now. I can take my time.

This time when I walk past Shelly, I don’t feel the pounding heart or the nerves. I smile at her, tap her desk, and offer her a good morning as I continue past. I even punch the button for the elevator, something I’ve been avoiding for the last few days, even though maintenance assured me it wouldn’t get stuck again. There’s a moment of anxiety as the doors close and the car begins its climb, but before it gets too bad, the soft ding fills the air and the doors open. It really is going to be a good day.

Katie is not at her desk when I enter the office area, so I sit down at mine and pull out my list. Museum? Check. Historical society? It doesn’t sound quite as appealing as it once did though I’m sure there are tourists who would enjoy it. City hall? I shake my head as I cross it off the list as well as the two I had written beneath it. Katie was right; my list is boring, but what would be better?

“Starting without me?”

The sound of her voice sends my heart into overdrive, and I turn to see Katie limping my direction sans crutches. The smile falls from my face as concern takes the wheel. “Are you supposed to be walking without your crutches?”

“Easy Fido.” She holds up her hands and smiles. “I called the doctor this morning, and he said if the swelling was down then I could try walking on it. I have the crutches in my car in case it starts hurting too badly.”

“Well, that is a relief, but don’t overdo it.” I fight the urge to jump to her side and help her into her chair. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but ever since this weekend, I find myself wanting to be closer to her, to touch her, to see if her hair is as soft as it looks.

I shake my head as I turn back to my list. Must focus. “Maybe you can help me come up with activities we can use that won’t hurt your ankle too much. Plus, I’m afraid my list is a little boring.”

She snorts as she scoots her chair closer. “You think?”

“Hey, I’m a work in progress.” In addition to thinking about Katie, I spent a lot of time this weekend thinking about my life, wondering if I would be different if my parents had encouraged imaginative play more than rigid structure, wondering if I can change now, and if I can, what that means. I didn’t arrive at a solid answer, but I’m okay with that. It will take time.

“We all are,” she says as she grabs my list and begins scanning it. “I don’t think the historical society is horrible. I know I won’t be that enthused but others might so it’s worth including, but I am glad you crossed off city hall. I think there’s a cool hat store downtown that we could add in and there are definitely more restaurants and eateries we need to visit and add.”

“As long as we can avoid anything citrus,” I say, shaking my head.

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