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Yesterday and Today
The clicking sound of high heels could be heard up and down the narrow hall. The concrete of backstage area was just playing along with her grand entrance. She fought to stay calm and act as sexy as she could. She saw some men stop to watch her walk out of the corner of her eye and every fiber of her being screamed to hit one of them. She knew she couldn't, of course, but she did want to. As she continued to sway down the corridor she thought of how it used to be.
She hadn't been very popular in high school. Oh, she had had a few friends but she wanted a boyfriend really bad and the only half-decent guys around wouldn't even look at her. She was nice and all, but she was too plain. At least everyone thought that (if they ever thought of her at all, which was not very likely) until the end of their senior year. The most wonderful guy ever and one of the most popular at the school, asked her out. She couldn't believe it and neither could anyone else.
They dated for the next two months before graduation. He took her to all the parties that "the group" had. She felt wonderful, and he said he did too. His friends talked about her and finally all "lost" touch with him, but for some reason he didn't seem to mind until around Christmas of their Freshman year in college when the person he thought was his best friend left a note in the apartment they had shared that he would not be back until she was gone. He was in love though and just let his friend walk away.
She had finally reached the door she had been looking for. The bodyguard standing in between the three dressing rooms was a sign of just how bad the financial situation had gotten. She simply opened the door and walked into the dressing room. The young man sitting in the chair in front of the large mirror turned and looked her up and down three times before turning back to the mirror to "fix" his hat.
"Looking at yourself was always your favorite hobby," she said.
"You must have the wrong person, Miss...?"
"Oh, you must recognize me, old buddy, old pal. Why, school just wouldn't have been the same with out you, and that's the truth."
"Look, Lady, I don't have time for this. If you want something," he looked her up and down again; "maybe we can work something out. If not, beat it!"
"Touchy, touchy. I don't want anything from you. I was fine with you out of my life but I have no choice in the matter."
"Are you working for Tony? I told him I'd get him his money!"
"No, I'm not working for Tony. I came about this," she said as she pulled a letter out of her purse and laid it on the table next to his arm.
"What is that?"
"It's a letter my husband sent you about two months ago."
"Your husband?"
"Yes, my husband."
Again, she thought about the past. She remembered her wedding day. Everything went wrong, as usual, but everything was all right as soon as she saw him, all decked out in his tux. He looked so cute when he grinned and pulled at the edges of his jacket. It had been all she could do to keep from running down the aisle to just hold him and kiss him over and over.
"Lady! Look, I've got a show to do. Could we hurry this up?"
"You are the most self-centered, egotistical piece of crap on this earth! How dare you treat him that way?"
"Who?!?"
"Blaine Sanders, my husband. Read this," she pushed the letter toward him. He took it slowly, as if it would bite, and opened it. It read:
"Dear Kevin,
I have been following your career in the headlines. You seem to have gotten everything you wanted. I did. A home a loving wife and two kids: Kevin and Christy. They are almost grown up now, which is hard to believe, but good.
I know that you said you never wanted to hear from me again but I thought you might make an exception. You see, I'm dying. I have a brain tumor. I guess that means I have a brain after all.
I want to leave you the old garage we used to practice in. I means a lot to me and I think it might still to you too. If it doesn't, sell it to pay off some of your debts.
Your friend,
Blaine"
Kevin looked around for the woman but she was no where to be found. He wanted to talk to Blaine so badly. He folded up the letter to put it back in the envelope when a small piece of newsprint on the table caught his eye. He picked it up. It said:
"Blaine Sanders, age 32, died today after a long battle with three large brain tumors. He is survived by his wife and two children."