Twenty-Nine
“Ryan came to the show last night,” Tom said. “Did he tell you?”
“To this show?”
“None other.”
Shiloh was obligated to see all of the theater’s main-stage productions at least once. She always came with Tom, her second-in-command
in the education department and her best friend during work hours. (Which made him her best friend generally speaking, too.)
Shiloh usually brought her kids to the shows, and Tom would bring his partner, Daniel, who worked in marketing at a huge furniture
store.
The five of them were sitting in the back row of the theater tonight. Shiloh and Tom were sitting next to each other. The
kids were sitting on either side of Daniel because he had jelly beans.
“Why would Ryan come to Jacob Climbs the Food Pyramid ?” Shiloh asked. The play was an educational project funded by the Department of Agriculture. They’d brought in professional
adult actors, but still... it wasn’t the theater’s artiest art.
Tom made a sad face. He had red hair and clear-framed glasses and an MFA in directing from Northwestern. His sad faces were
always a little over-the-top. “I heard he’s dating one of the actresses.”
“Ah,” Shiloh said.
“Do you want to leave?” Tom picked up his coat. “Let’s leave. We’ll say somebody got sick—Daniel can make himself puke just
by thinking about scrambled eggs.”
“No,” Shiloh said. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Tom made an even sadder face. He’d held Shiloh together with duct tape and baling wire during her divorce (which was not a part of his job description). He knew how not-fine she could be regarding Ryan. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t mind puking to get out of children’s theater,” Daniel said amiably, handing Gus a jelly bean. “I’ve done it before.”
Daniel was Chinese-American. He had a very expensive haircut and always wore beautiful paisley neckties. Shiloh liked him
enormously.
“Honestly,” she said. “I’m fine.”
Tom frowned. “Do you want me to tell you which actress?”
“No,” she said. “Let me guess. It will keep me awake during the show. Who’d you even hear this from?”
“Kate. She’s outraged on your behalf.”
“Ah.” Kate was the costume designer who’d asked Shiloh out a few months ago. Shiloh had said she wasn’t ready to date.
Tom was a Kate advocate.
Tom was a Shiloh-moving-on advocate.
He didn’t believe Shiloh when she said that she was moving on. That moving on as a divorced mother in your thirties could simply mean being less miserable. Enjoying a nice pear.
Sleeping eight hours in a row. Wearing earrings. “That’s not moving on, Shiloh. That’s just being happy in a sad way.”
Tom would probably love to hear about Shiloh’s run-in with Cary...
If she had the heart to talk about it.
The play started. Gus climbed into Shiloh’s lap as soon as Daniel ran out of jelly beans.
It was obvious which actress Ryan was dating. Shiloh called it as soon as the woman walked onstage dressed like a carton of
2 percent milk. She had dark hair and a big chest. Ryan had a type.
Before Tom could confirm, Junie said, “I know her—that’s Jocelyn!”
After the play, they all walked across the street to a gourmet ice cream shop. “Ice cream is at the top of the food pyramid,”
Junie said confidently.
“That means it’s the very best,” Daniel said.
Tom and Daniel were both from bigger cities. They’d moved to Omaha eight years ago so that Tom could get a full-time theater
gig on his résumé. The plan was always to move on.
Shiloh would be devastated if they ever did.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Tom asked while they were waiting for their sundaes. “Doesn’t Ryan have the kids?”
“I am doing so much, ” she said.
“Oh,” Daniel said, “are you going to enjoy a nice pear?”
Shiloh frowned at Tom. “Do you tell him every dumb thing I say?”
“Daniel and I have no secrets.”