Shakespeare's Valentine Pt. 07

Cherri smiled: "Talking too much?"

"Yeah. Anyhow, I sort of ran out of steam. She waited for a few seconds, to make sure I'd finished. Then she said...and I wish I could recall her words exactly, but this is sort of the jist of it.

'I don't hear many stories like that one. I like it. I like that this woman's eyes reminded you of my work. I wish more people's eyes reminded people of my jewelry, because then it would be easier to sell. But I also like that you think her eyes are beautiful, and that beauty reminds you of my jewelry. I'm pleased that you remember my work the way you do, after so many years. And I'm pleased for you that you've found somebody special. I liked you. You were a polite young man, even though you talked too much.'"

Cherri giggled.

"She said she had a couple of pieces in mind, and would I like her to send me pictures? And for some reason, I said no. I asked her to send me her favorite. I think that surprised her, and maybe tickled her a little. She said if that's what I wanted, I should send her a picture of you."

"Oh God, did you?"

"Yup."

"Which one?"

"I actually sent two: I pulled your headshot from that email that Company Management sent when they had us approve the program, and..." I looked around for my phone. Maybe still in my pants pocket? Fine. So where were my pants?

203.

Phone in hand and back under the blanket, I scrolled through my gallery.

"This one." It was a selfie we'd taken backstage before our first dress rehearsal. We'd been goofing on a pair of crowns which had been replaced late in the process. They were thick, square-ish things, made of some kind of foam core, spray painted gold, and set with fake jewels, and they looked fine of Cherri and me. The problem was that Gil felt that the crown worn by Duncan at the beginning of the play should be the same crown usurped by Macbeth halfway through. He wanted Jem and me to wear the same costume piece. Unfortunately, Jem's face was so long and thin, that the thick, flat crown made him look like a giant, emaciated wood screw. More unfortunately, somebody told him so. The foam core crowns were replaced by simple metal bands not long afterwards, but not before I'd grabbed a shot of Cherri and me wearing them, with wide eyed, dopey grins on our faces.

Cherri said: "Oh, no, seriously? I look like a complete dork in this!"

"Oh, I don't know. I think you look kinda cute." My Lady gave me a slightly exasperated grin, so I handed her the other thing I'd retrieved from my pocket: the note which had come with the bracelet. It was written in ballpoint pen on a sheet of lined paper neatly torn from a perforated pad of some kind. It read:

"Dear David, Thank you for your kind recollections of my silver work. I am sending the piece I think best suited to your Ms. Morgenthal. I think there is humor in the cuff, and certainly there is humor in her eyes. Please send me a picture of her wearing it and smiling. She is a very beautiful woman. You probably don't deserve her. But I hope you will be happy together. If you are ever both in Flagstaff, please bring her into the shop. I am an old woman now, and I like it when my pieces come to visit me.

Go in beauty,

Rebecca Etcitty"

204.

Cherri put the note down on the coffee table in front of the couch. She stared at the bracelet, which she was still holding, but which she hadn't yet put on. She didn't say anything for a long time.

Finally, in a quiet voice: "Wow, that's..."

I waited.

"...that's a lot."

Huh. I said: "Cher, are you okay?"

"I think so. No, I am. I'm fine."

She didn't sound fine. She sounded...unsettled.

"Cherri, are you sure you're...?"

She turned to me. "Dai, can I...do you mind if I go up to my place for a little bit?"

What the...? "Sure, Cher. Whatever you need."

She leaned into me then, and kissed me gently. "You say that-whatever I need-and you mean it-and it's one reason why I love you."

Okay, this was a little better.

"But right now," she continued, "I need a little time, maybe an hour or two, by myself. And can I take the bracelet with me?"

"Cher, the bracelet is yours. You can do whatever you want with it, including give it away, or-hell-throw it away, if you don't like it..."

"Dai." She took my face in her hands. Her hands were cool and soft, and they smelled of soap and sex. I thought: if I've done something wrong here, if I've somehow screwed this up...

"I love my bracelet, and I love you. Do you believe me?"

"Of course, but..."

"Can I take the note too?"

The note? What did the note have to do with...? "Sure, Cher," I said again, "whatever you need."

205.

It was maybe an hour later. Maybe two. Maybe three. I hadn't checked. I was still sitting on the couch, wrapped in the blanket off my bed, naked, and alone.

The note! Was there something in the note that made her...I mean there'd been that crack about my not deserving her, but that was just Rebecca's sense of humor. Anybody who'd spent any time around her knew she could be a little...what? Prickly, maybe? Of course Cherri had never met Rebecca, but still...what else had the damn note said? Should I not have shown it to Cherri? I mean I thought it was...sweet, touching, maybe even a little sad, but was there something...?

My phone buzzed. Text. From Cherri.

"Are you hungry?"

I texted back: "For what?"

"Dinner. Pervert."

"Not really."

"Can we stay in tonight, and can you come up?"

"Bring anything?"

"Uh Uh. Just you."

"Right now?"

"Half an hour."

"Done."

Excellent. I'd have time for a shower, a change of clothes, and a short prayer. Not that I believed in that kind of a God, but as my Grandpa Amos used to say: "What's it gonna hurt?"

206.

Staying in sounded good, but I didn't want to make any assumptions. As I stood under the shower in my tiny cubicle, I thought about how well I knew Cherri Morganthal. In some ways, I knew her about as well as one person can know another. In other ways, I was intrigued and appalled to realize that I didn't know her at all. Intrigued because of how much fun getting to know her had been so far, and appalled because...well, because of how much I needed and wanted to know her, and about her. I never wanted to hurt her, or scare her, or...I never wanted to make a mistake with her, and...

Alright. Hold up. Dai, you're 45. You're not 17. You know better. Of course you're going to make mistakes, and yes, you're probably going to hurt or scare or disappoint her at some point, because, guess what? You're human. And so is she. So get the fuck out of the shower before you use up all the hot water in the building, put your fucking clothes on, and go learn more about...about this woman you love. It's Valentine's Day, right? All part of the program.

Still...okay, sweat pants? We're staying in, right? Too casual? Maybe jeans. But what if she doesn't want to...you can sleep on the couch in sweats if need be. Jesus, Brenner, she's not gonna make you sleep on the couch. Or if she is... Right, jeans it is. Now, t-shirt or...

Half an hour. I made it. Course I made it. Just barely, but I made it.

207.

Cherri opened the door. She said: "Hi."

I said: "Hi."

We stood there for a few seconds, staring at one another, as if we were each being introduced to a new species. Then she stepped forward, put her arms around my waist, and drew me into a long, tight hug. The breath rushed out of my lungs. Apparently I'd been holding it. Why would I do a silly thing like that? I kissed the top of her head.

"My Lady?"

She let out a long sigh. Maybe breath-holding was contagious. "Ooh, my Thane." She wasn't crying, which surprised me for some reason, but she was...cooing? Humming? Some small sound; half voice, half breath, with her head resting against my shoulder, and our bodies pressed together as if for warmth. After a while, she said:

"Come sit on the couch."

"Hmmm, do I have to let go of you?"

"Goof! Not for long, but you have to take my picture."

What? "I do?"

"Uh huh, now come sit!"

208.

She stood facing me. She'd put on black yoga pants, a white scoop necked t-shirt, and a denim overshirt with the sleeves rolled up. On her right wrist, she wore her Valentine's Day present. The silver in proximity to the denim conjured images of white caps on mountain lakes, and the various bands in the cuff picked up flashes of her hair, skin, lips, and of course her eyes.

"Jesus, Cher, that thing came out of the fire looking for you."

She reached into her pocket and handed me her phone. "She wanted a picture. Can you take it for me?"

"Sure." The camera was locked. "Code?"

"011222. The day you kissed me for the first time."

All I could find to say was: "Really?"

"Uh huh. Now, ready?"

She stood with the warm light of a shaded lamp on her face, and brought her forearm up across her chest until the back of her index and middle fingers rested against her left cheek. She looked beautiful, cool and remote. I took a couple of quick shots, but...

I picked up Rebecca's note, which happened to be on the coffee table in front of me. "Cher, this says 'send me a picture of her wearing it and smiling.'"

"I know."

"So..."

"So. Say my name."

"Just...say your name?"

"Uh huh. You know, like we sometimes do when we've just finished fucking, and there's sort of...nothing else to say?"

I smiled, and said: "Cherri Morganthal."

She said: "Dai Brenner," and smiled, and I took her picture.

209.

We were back on the couch-her couch-making out like teenagers; tired teenagers. For long stretches, we'd sit still holding one another, and then we'd shift positions, and our eyes would meet, and we'd kiss, but Romeo and Juliet kisses rather than...say...Antony and Cleopatra kisses; gentle, ardent, uncertain kisses, like we were neither of us sure where they would lead. At one point, I even started the sonnet from R and J:

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth the rough touch with a tender kiss."

Cherri giggled, and then her breath caught, and she cried a little.

"God, Dai, you have no idea how much I wanted to play her. And I never did. And now..."

"Do you remember how it goes on?"

"Pssh, of course! I could probably recite the whole damn play. Uh, let's see:

'Good pilgrim you do wrong your hand too much

Which mannerly devotion shows in this.

For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.'"

I continued: "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

Cherri looked incredulous: "You never played him, did you?"

"Oh God, no. I can't imagine what a disaster I'd have been, even when I was the right age. I was her dad once, and the director had the whole cast doing this silent dance thing upstage of them while they were doing the sonnet. We all had it memorized."

"Seriously? The whole cast on stage? If I'd been that Juliet, I would not have been a very happy Capulet."

"Yeah, I don't think ours cared much one way or the other. She was...maybe twenty. Non-Eq, never done Shakespeare before. Mostly she was in it for the kissing and the shouting and the dresses."

"So she sucked?"

I thought about it. "I mean, she wasn't complete crap. She was young and pretty, and she had some humor, and maybe a little grit to her, but, yeah, the language, particularly the later stuff, was just not there."

"People like to say that once you're old enough to act her, you're too old to play her."

I snorted. "That's crap!"

"Thank you! I think so too! Why would a playwright as canny and frankly as commercial as Shakespeare write a lead nobody could play? Tell you what, if somebody had given me a shot..."

"You'd've been spectacular."

That brought her up short for a second. Then she smiled: "Somebody wants to get laid tonight."

"True, but I'm also as serious as a heart attack. You'd have been a glorious Juliet."

"Dai, that's sweet, but come on. You've known me for a month, and I'm already more than twice her age. How could you possibly...?"

"Do you remember the first time we went to the French place? The night you told me about the whole Nth Degree thing?"

"Yeah..."

"I brought you a little bouquet of flowers from Kroger's..."

"I remember! Of course I..."

"Yeah. There I am in my stupid brown sports coat, looking like a plumber on his way to church, and I'm staring at you, and you're this gorgeous, sophisticated woman who wears clothes like she was born on a runway, and I'm thinking: 'Really, Brenner, with the five dollar collection of wilted pansies and baby's breath?' So I hand the damn things to you with death in my heart, and watch as twenty years of...I don't know, riding lessons, and debutante balls, and country club luncheons--and look, I don't even know if any of that's been part of your life, but..."

"As a matter of fact, it has. All of it."

I'd wondered. But I continued. "Well, all of that falls away, and you look so...happy and, and sweet, and-I don't know-touched to be given a shitty little bouquet of grocery store flowers..."

"They were beautiful."

"And I knew. I knew you probably never got to play them, but they were all there, all inside of you: Juliet, Nina, Emily, what's-her-name in Ah, Wilderness!--(not that you'd want to play her particularly; she's kind of a drip.) And they'd all be brilliant. But nobody would ever get to see them, because...well, you know why. The same reason nobody will ever see my Hamlet, or my Trigorin, or my...I don't know...who's the guy in Travesties?"

"Henry...Carr, maybe?"

"That's him."

She sighed. "I don't mind so much, really. I do mourn for Juliet, a bit, but I've played some amazing parts..."

"Oh, absolutely. Me too. And for fuck sake, here we are playing the Macbeths! That's...not too shabby."

"No. Not too shabby at all. Dai?"

"Yeah, Cher?"

"Can I...tell you what happened this afternoon?"

210.

We were still on the couch, but no longer touching. There was space between us. Physical space. That didn't concern me as much as it might have an hour ago. I wanted to learn? I'd have to listen. And we'd both been ducking the inevitable discussion of the future, which was what this was going to turn into. I was pretty sure of it. Cherri sat perched on the edge of a cushion, intent on organizing her thoughts; Patience on a monument: intelligent, pensive, and so beautiful. I had to fight the urge to gather her up, kiss her, take her to bed. We could talk later, right? She looked up at me, and gave me a quick smile.

"Dai, Honey, I don't know where to start. There's so much..." She exhaled sharply. "Okay, fuck it. Here goes. I'm going to ask you a question, but you can only answer 'yes' or 'no', okay? Otherwise...well otherwise we'll probably wind up in bed together, and even though I kind of want that more than anything right now, I just...I have to get this said. Ready?"

I waited.

"Do you want to be with me after this show closes? Just one word!"

Not like it was a tough question. "Yes."

"Okay. I...kind of assumed that one, but I...I had to ask. And that's my answer too, by the way."

I nodded.

She gave me a long considering look, but I had no help to give her. I could have told her how much I loved her, wanted her, and all the rest of it, how everything would work out, and how we'd be fine, and it all would have been true, up to a point. But none of it was new information. None of it was going to make her job easier. She sighed, and soldiered on.

"So we got back here-well, to your place-and you surprised me with this." She held up her arm with the bracelet. "I hadn't gotten you anything because, well I...wasn't sure how we wanted to handle things like Valentine's Day. Anyway," she rode over my intended interruption, "doesn't matter. Seriously, Dai, we're not teenagers, even though you sometimes make me feel like one...I mean in a good way! Fuck! I hate that we're both old enough for that to sound a little creepy!"

"If it helps, I had some related thoughts, while I was, um...after you'd left, about us not being teenagers."

"Which should make at least some of this shit easier, right?"

"Cher, this is going forward with our lives we're talking about. I don't know that I'd want it to be too easy."

"Point. But what I'm trying to...I read your card, your beautiful card, where you thanked me for...never mind, you know what you said. And at the end it said "Be mine." because that's what Valentine's Day cards say, but by the time I got to those words, after everything that had come before-not just in the card, but in rehearsals, in the show, in bed, falling in love with you-I just...said whatever I said: yours forever, or..."

"Actually it was 'always and forever, if you want me.'"

Cherri leaned back, sighed, and snuggled against me. My arm reached around her shoulder, and drew her close.

She said: "It was, huh?"

"Yup."

"Well, I meant it. But for a split second I thought I'd misread the card, and you just meant, you know, be my valentine, or something. But then you were crying, and saying that's what you wanted too, and then pretty soon we were fucking, and I was sucking your cock, and then we were kissing, and I was...pretty much as happy as I can ever remember being..."

She hadn't mentioned the bracelet.

"And you told me about Rebecca, and sending her the pictures, and then you showed me her note, and that's...sort of when things started to spin out of control, a little."

211.

The damn note again. "Was it something I...?"

"Nothing to do with you, my Darling, and nothing to do with Rebecca, or her note, or my beautiful Valentine's Day present either. Not really. I mean, well really nothing you could have known about, because we haven't talked much about...ooh, about our pasts, I suppose. So how were you supposed to know about the bracelet Topher gave me?"

"Topher? Wait a minute, you mean Nth Degree Liaisons Topher, the shitbird you're testifying against?"

Cherri gave a little chuckle. "The very shitbird. And it wasn't just the coincidence of the bracelets. It was that both were...sort of personally weighted. Fuck, this is hard to explain. So Liaisons was my second show with Nth Degree. My first was Intimate Apparel, the Lynn Nottage piece, earlier in the same season. I was Mrs. Van Buren."

"I've seen it, but I don't remember..."

"Doesn't matter. Topher directed that one-he really shouldn't have, by the way-but that's when we first got together. And...we were pretty hot and heavy for a while, or...maybe that's not...again, doesn't matter. We were kind of this minor power couple in the Atlanta arts scene for a minute. You know: brooding middle-aged theatrical artiste, and his high end, hot actress girlfriend. I even flew down to see him once or twice between Apparel, which closed mid-October, I think, and Liaisons, which started rehearsals the following...May? And we went to a couple of 'functions' with a capital 'funk.'" Her voice became savage as she continued. "What a humorless, manipulative, abusive, boring piece of shit that man was, and what a fucking insecure, bimbo, career whore I was to climb into bed with that stooge."

"Cher, you don't have to..."

"No, I really do, Dai. I meant every fucking bit of it when I said always and forever. But if we're gonna take that shot, then we need to be able to tell each other anything and everything. Otherwise..." She started to tear up.

I'd fucked up. I could fix it. "No otherwise, Cher. You're absolutely right. Let's do this. Keep talking."

She sniffed a couple of times, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thanks. Oh fuck, where was I? Right. Anyway at some point, my birthday maybe, he gives me this diamond and sapphire tennis bracelet, which he said belonged to his grandmother."