32. Penn
Chapter 32
Penn
On Monday I show up to Desert Oasis Theatre, where Noelle told me to be for rehearsal.
It's a large space with stadium-style seating for a couple hundred people. There's a scuffed stage, bracketed by thick curtains. It's hard to describe what the place smells like, only that it's not terrible, but also not good. Musty, I guess.
Noelle waves me over when I walk in. "This is Peter Bravo," she says, introducing me to the woman she's standing with.
"Actually," I clear my throat. "My name is Penn Bellamy." It feels good to say my name.
Noelle makes a face. "Does Daisy know that?"
"Yeah," I nod. "It's a long story, though, and I'm not telling it."
"That's...weird," Noelle says.
"Tenley Roberts," the woman beside Noelle cuts in. "Nice to meet you, Penn."
"You as well," I respond. "I hear you're famous."
She laughs. "I'm famous in people's memories." She goes on to tell me she's not officially retired, but she has backed out of the limelight.
"We're lucky Tenley agreed to take this on," Noelle says. "Otherwise I'd be playing the princess, and that would be a bit of a stretch." Tenley starts to say something, but Noelle steamrolls on. "Tenley's been bringing her nephew to story hour for a couple years now. Her brother-in-law comes and signs for a couple kids who need ASL."
"Including my nephew," Tenley adds.
"That is..." I struggle to find the words, coming up with, "unbelievably wholesome."
Tenley cackles. "It really is."
Noelle drifts away to round up the other actors, and Tenley and I spend a few minutes introducing ourselves. She says she has two step-kids, and one toddler, and as she put it the family I married into is a whole thing. But there isn't a trace of exasperation in her tone, and she smiles when she says it, and a flash of envy pinches my heart. I will never have that. A great big family, complaining about them but loving them far more. I have my brothers-in-arms, but they are deployed now, off on another mission. I have Hugo, but eventually, Hugo will meet the right woman, and he will form his own family. I have Slim Jim, and I can't begin to think about a day when we're not together or I'll break down.
Noelle introduces the cast, and all the kids who will be running the show. I was expecting something small and poorly organized, but I was off-base. Way, way off-base. The director, a frizzy-haired redheaded twelve-year-old wearing a plain black ball cap, is akin to a tyrant. Her name is Lincoln, and she doesn't crack a smile, not even once during the entire rehearsal. She is all business, directing us to our spots, rolling her eyes at me when I forget a line. I'm inclined to tell her I've engaged in hand-to-hand combat in crumbling buildings in the middle of nowhere with men who wanted to see me dead, but decide against it. I don't think she'd have the response I'd want her to have.
Tenley rescues me by having her lines memorized, and mine too. She whispers them to me when I pause a beat too long.
I yawned more than I meant to, a product of waking up at four a.m. to take that first gift to Daisy, and Noelle kept shooting me annoyed looks. I wanted to remind her that I was neither willing, nor am I being paid to be here, but decided against that, too. These theatre people are intense.
"That's a wrap for today," Lincoln says, still seated in her director chair that swallows her small frame. "Penn, please work on memorizing your lines. It's not Tenley's job to whisper them to you."
Beside me, Tenley stifles a laugh.
"Yes, chef," I answer, and earn a dirty look from the pre-teen.
"Don't worry about her," Tenley assures me as we walk out to the parking lot. "Girls of that age come preloaded with cutting remarks."
"So it's not me?"
"Oh, it's definitely you. But it's her, too." Tenley veers off toward her vehicle, a vintage Bronco that has me whistling low.
"She's a babe, right?" Tenley affectionately pats the car. "Her name is Pearl."
"Pearl is a babe," I confirm. "I'll see you on Wednesday."
Tenley waves and drives off. I hop in my truck, checking my phone for what feels like the seventy-second time today. I'm not expecting Daisy to say anything, but I'm hoping for it. There is a message, but my burst of excitement is short-lived when I see it's from Hugo and not Daisy.
You sent the HOA a nasty-gram?
Not nasty. Just strongly worded.
You told them you refused to pay the fine for leaving out the trash can I told you not to leave on the street longer than twenty-four hours.
Correct.
Well, congratulations buddy, Bobbie agreed to waive the fine, but stated she wouldn't be so lenient next time.
LFG!!!
Is this what your life has come to? Arguing with HOA presidents?
I think the kids call it 'adulting.'
Next you'll be feeling immeasurably pleased by the cleanliness of your fridge drawers.
Ok but I already do that.
Another four a.m. wakeup.
A second gift left at Daisy's front door.