A SUNDAY LIKE NO OTHER

Dinner is uneventful and so is the ride to the auditorium.

When I get backstage, I head to the changing area. I see Anne. She’s freshly made up and looks great. She has her costume on already. Her breasts almost pop out of the top of her dress.

Things start to stir again.

“Hi, Dezzy,” she says, “You coming to the party?”

I avert my eyes and mumble. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I head to the boys’ changing area, head down.

“Oh, Francis.”

I look up to see Miss O’Donnell.

“You should do your make-up first.”

“Oh, yeah, right. I’ll be right there.”

“How are you this evening?”

“Okay.”

“Coming to the cast party?”

I shrug my shoulders. That produces The Look from Miss O’Donnell.

“Oh, sorry. I’m not sure, Miss O’Donnell, I might.”

“That’s better. Mrs. Reinstein is waiting.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I walk over to the make-up area.

“Hi, Francis, how are you?” asks Mrs. Reinstein, holding her hand out.

I place my glasses in her hand. “Fine.” Then I remember. “How are you?”

“A little tired but otherwise fine.” She smiles. “I’m glad this is the last performance.”

I smile and sit in the chair.

She makes the transformation quickly. When she hands me my glasses I put them on. Somehow ole Dezzy looks angrier than last time.

“Did you do anything different?” I ask her.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think so. Why?”

“I dunno, I look…uhm…different.”

She chuckles, “How articulate. Up you go. Go get changed.”

I look quickly at her and feel a little sheepish.

Peter is at the boys’ changing area when I arrive.                  “Hey,” he says. “What’s happenin’?”

“Nothing’ much.”

We begin to change in silence.

“Hey,” he says from behind his curtain. “You remember the notes we got from Miss O’Donnell last night about the scene with the gun?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna rehearse it?”

“No, I remember she told me not to drop the gun. So, I’ll just hold onto it tighter and longer.”

“Okay, good. Then I’ll really pull it out of your hands.”

“Okay.”

The silence settles back in between us.

“You see Anne?” Peter asks.

“You mean just now?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Great boobs, huh?”

“Umm.” is all I manage.

I hear Peter leave to go stand at his place. I adjust the top hat onto my stiff black hair and walk to my place on the other side of the stage. My mind drifts back to last night’s play, particularly the end when Anne kissed me. I was panicked beyond belief. That came as such a surprise.

How do you kiss back? Do you use your tongue like Mick claims?

“Places!” commands the stage manager. That snaps me back to attention.

As it happened last night, I can feel the hot presence of the audience through the curtain. I listen very closely to the action on the other side of the curtain. We have rehearsed this play so much I can see the action when I close my eyes. Desmond takes hold but it’s with a firmer grip.

Then the line: “Oh, what will we do? There’s no money. We will lose our farm!”

I come striding out and deliver my lines with a force that surprises me. I gesture more broadly and bark and spit out my lines.

“I’ll do anything,” says Penelope, “anything that will save Ma and Pa’s Farm.”

When I grab her wrist and elbow, I pull her toward me this time and out of Ma’s hands. Penelope’s eyes widen. I kiss her wrist and simultaneously pull her sleeve up past her elbow. I kiss up her forearm more ardently. Penelope is watching warily.

“If you consent to marry me,” Desmond says as I kiss up to Penelope’s shoulder, “I will let your dear parents keep the farm!”

I cup my hands gently but firmly on Penelope’s face. I’m looking directly into her eyes. She is searching my face and prepares to say her line. I plant a big wet kiss on her lips. I can smell her body scent and perfume again. Her face is flush and she draws a big breath, expanding her breasts. As I take my hands from her face, my left hand brushes her the top of her breasts.

“Oh, no, no, NO!  Please, what are you…I…I will never marry you! My breasts belong to Derek!”

This wave of laughter crashes over the stage.

“My heart.” says Penelope over the din, “my heart belongs to Derek.” She pulls her face out of my hands and turns sharply to Ma and Pa. She looks back at me with this expression of surprise and anger.

“Curses!” I bellow.

From behind, Derek claps his hand heavily on my shoulder. He spins me around to face him.

“Unhand her, your turd!” he yells with his face an inch away. Then, in a fierce whisper, “What the hell was THAT all about?”

I pull his hand off my shoulder with a twist that makes him wince.

“How dare you interfere with this, a most solemn moment. I’m about to propose marriage to this lovely creature and I will not let anything stand in the way.” With that, I push Derek on his chest and he backs up a step. “She will make a most comely bride, won’t you, my dear.” I turn to Penelope and make a step toward her. She sinks deeper into Ma’s arms. “But first, there is the little matter of your beloved.” I whip around and I pull the cap pistol out of my inside pocket. I step up to Derek and push it into his forehead. With a quick glance at Penelope, I shout, “Say good-bye, my pretty!”

Derek slaps my gun hand away from his head. The force causes me to step sideways. I recover and raise the gun again. Derek grabs the gun and pulls up. My hand goes up with his. He turns his hand and arm quickly, loosening my grip a little. Then Derek pulls his hand down sharply, and with his other hand, wrenches the gun painfully out of my hand. He’s red in the face now.

“Now, Mr. Desmond De’Orsay Decalcomania, prepare to meet your Maker!” shouts Derek and fires the pistol.

I stagger back but remain upright.

He fires twice more. I react twice more. I stumble backwards, clutching my chest.

A fourth gun burst and I fall over, hitting the stage floor with a thud. My hat spills off my head and rolls off the stage.

Derek shoots twice more and I die.

I can feel Penelope run to Derek with all these “Oh, my dears” and “Oh, my darlings”.

Ma says, “The farm is ours.”

The applause is overwhelming. There are hoots and laughs and shouting.

I remain as a heap on the stage floor.

“Get up,” someone says. It’s not Penelope.

I stand up and someone else shouts, “Hey, villain!” and tosses my hat to me and give me a thumbs up. I manage to get behind the curtain just as the curtain call is announced.

The sheriff and deputy are out first, then the mayor, and next come Ma and Pa. The applause continues throughout.

I come out and the applause thunders across the auditorium accompanied by whistles and hoots.

Next out are Derek and Penelope. A crescendo of applause greets them.

I’m next to Penelope. We clasp hands for the bow and she doesn’t even look at me. We all bow one more time. The curtain pulls together and we disappear from the audience.

Anne yanks her hand out of mine. She faces me.

“What’s the matter with you!” she shrieks. “You weren’t supposed to kiss me! That wasn’t in the script! You made me screw up my line! Nobody was supposed to laugh!”

I just stand there, unable to defend myself. Dezzy has left me.

Peter is next to her. “Yeah, and how come you took so long to die? I had to shoot you a dozen times. And what the hell were you doing kissing my girl?” He pushes me with both hands.

I stumble back a step or two and just look at them. Then it hits me. His girl? When did this happen?

I look over at Anne and point to Peter. “He’s your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” she says, coldly.

“Oh,” says Peter, “and, by the way, I’m taking Anne to the Fall Ball.”

They both stand there glaring at me. Then as if by a silent signal, they take each other’s hand and both turn on their heels and leave. The rest of the cast moves away as well.

I’m so stunned I stand there hardly aware of the people coming through the curtain. They’re milling around looking for their kids and friends. I take my hat off and look up and around me. I spot Mick coming toward me. In spite of what happened earlier, I’m glad to see him. He has this great big grin on his face.

“Hey, Professor, that was great! What a smacker you planted on Anne’s lips. Cripes, that took guts.” He slaps me on the back. “That was great.”

“It was? That’s nothing we rehearsed.”

“Yeah, I know. My sister was sitting with me and she saw yesterday’s show. Kelley was really surprised to see you practically smother ole Anne’s puss tonight.”

“Anne didn’t like it one bit. She and Peter were both yelling at me just before you showed up.”

“I heard. Screw them,” says Mick dismissively. “Kelley thought this performance was better. That kiss just made the show. Whaddit taste like?”

“Lipstick.”

Mick chuckles loudly. “Ya know, Professor, you do have a way with words.”

Looking over Mick’s shoulder, I see Mom, Dad, Gramma, and Gramp making their way through the crowd.

“Well dear, that was certainly embarrassing. Worthy of your Uncle Jake,” says Mom as they approach me and Mick. “Hello, Mick. How are you? I’m happy to see you.”

How does she do that? Go from insulting to politeness in the same breath?

“Great, Mrs. J. Hi, Mr. J.”

Dad nods.

Hey, Daddy-O, nice defense of your son there.

“My, Francis, that was some kiss,” Gramma says. “Whose idea was that? I don’t remember that from last night.”

“No, I sorta made it up on the spot,” I say. “Hi, Gramp.”

“‘Lo, Francis. Did a little improvising up there.”

I smile. The awkwardness starts to get in between everyone.

“Well,” says Mick, “I gotta go. Kelley’s driving us home.” He makes a mock horrified face for a split second. “See ya, Professor.” He slaps my chest with the back of his hand. “That was sumthin’ else, man. Bye, all.” He turns, waves, and heads off the stage.

“Why does Mick call you Professor?” asks Gramp.

“My glasses,” I say. “I guess he thinks they make me look smart.”

I don’t feel so smart after that kiss, though.

It’s then I notice Miss O’Donnell making her way through the crowded stage. She’s dressed in all purple with big billowy pants and lots of jewelry.

I brace myself. What is she going to say?

“Why, hello, Miss O’Donnell,” says Dad.

“Good evening, Mr. Joyce, Mrs. Joyce,” she says.

“Oh, Miss O’Donnell, says Mom, “these are my parents, Francis’s grandparents, Simon and Karen Barnicle”

“How do you do?” says Gramma with a poker face.

“How are you?” says Gramp with a smile.

“Very well, very well,” Miss O’Donnell says, smiling back at my grandparents. “Well, what did you think of our play?”

“It got a lot of applause,” ventured Dad.

“Yes, yes, it did,” adds Mom.

I’m standing there, waiting for the bomb to drop. Miss O’Donnell hasn’t looked at me yet. I realized my scalp is itchy from the sweat. I suddenly feel warm.

“Well, Francis, how do you think the play went tonight?” asks Miss O’Donnell, facing me.

“There was a lot of applause,” I say, looking at Miss O’Donnell and then at the floor.

Miss O’Donnell laughs that big laugh we’ve heard once in a while in class. My parents and grandmother stand around and stare at her but Gramp is smiling.

“I don’t know how you got or who gave you this sense of understatement,” she says, still tittering, “but it’s an exquisite sense you have.” She wipes a corner of her right eye with her index finger. “Oh, my. Uhm, I came over to congratulate you on your performance tonight. It was better than last night. And that kiss. Where the devil did you come up with that idea?”

I look at her, then I look away. I shift my weight and I fiddle with my hat.

“The only way Desmond could convince Penelope that he wanted her,” I say, “was to do something unexpected and dramatic.”

“Well, well,” says Miss O’Donnell, “that was a good answer. It also makes sense for the character. It makes Desmond more arrogant to think he can do whatever he wants with Penelope. And it’s strong motivation for Derek to kill him. Well, I’m impressed. That was quite an insight you have on Desmond. One would think you knew him as a brother.”

I didn’t know what to say to that last statement, but I knew she was right.

“And what was that yelling? It sounded like Anne.”

“I…ah…think Anne was upset that everyone was laughing at her.”

“Oh, my, yes, she would be upset about that. As anyone would. I should go talk to her.

Turning to my parents and grandparents, Miss O’Donnell says, ”Well, before I go I would like to say you have a fine and clever son and grandson here. And he’s quite the actor. You might want to nurture that.”

“Yes, we know, on all counts,” says Gramp. He looks over at me with his warm smile and winks at me.

Now I’m not only sweaty and hot, I’m blushing, too. “I’ve got to change. Bye, Miss O’Donnell. Thanks for the compliment.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

I scoot off.

I arrive at the changing area. It’s buzzing with all the people. I head for the make-up area and go through the same make-up removal routine and manage to get through the crowd to where I left my own pile of clothes. I pull the curtain across. I take off my costume and carefully hang it on the one hanger. I take my own shirt off the pile and pull out my glasses and put them on. As I button the shirt up, I feel that something is missing. I button the last button. I pick up my pants and see my own boots are gone. I look around the floor. Nothing. I stand there for a moment with my pants in my hands. Where’d my boots go? I pull my pants on quickly. I look under the curtain to the other changing area but it’s clean and empty. I turn the curtain aside and walk out while looking along the floor for my boots. I know they were under my clothes. I took them off first.

Oh, nuts.

I scour the floor again. I pad over on my stocking feet to my parents and grandparents.

“I can’t find my boots.”

“What do you mean?” asks Mom.