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The only thing left for me to do was throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness.
Willow
The applause during curtain call was tremendous. It bowled me over and I clutched Len and Lorraine’s hands tight as we bowed. The strange tension I’d felt before the show pulled at the air, crackling and ominous. As I stepped out of Nora and back into Willow, I scanned the audience, looked over and around and through the sea of clapping faces.
Who are you looking for?
A pull on my hands made me find a smile as the cast took another bow.
Afterward, I changed into a black satin dress for the cast party in Braxton. Martin was jumpy as hell as we all grabbed our things to head out.
“You go on ahead,” he said. “I have to wait for Brenda.”
“Marty, what’s going on? Did my parents tell you about the surprise?”
“What surprise?”
“I don’t know. Something they wanted to give us at the party. Maybe it has to do with the theater plans?”
Marty shrugged. “Haven’t heard a word.” He kissed my forehead. “Go. I’ll be along shortly.”
In the lobby, Angie, Bonnie, Yolanda and Benny stood together. My parents milled nearby, on the fringe of the group. After some congratulatory hugs and awkward chitchat and confusion, it was decided I’d drive up to Braxton with Angie and Bonnie. Yolanda and Ben were going to head home.
On the drive to Braxton, Bonnie put on her Therapist Face.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s a nice gesture, but you’re under no obligation to attend.”
“I know,” I said from the backseat. “But I feel like if they’re going to be in my life, they’re going to be in my life. Otherwise, I should just cut them out, right? And that doesn’t feel right either. It might take a while, but I think trying to have a relationship is better than nothing.”
“So long as it’s not toxic as all hell,” Angie said from the front seat. She looked pretty in a 50’s style dress that flared at her waist. Bonnie was elegant in a coral-colored pantsuit.
“I think a party in a public place is a good start,” I said. “Less chance of a scene. My mother can’t stand a sce
ne.”
We arrived at the Renaissance Hotel and were directed to a ballroom that was large by Braxton standards, but small by Regina-Holloway standards.
Still, I was touched at my parents’ efforts. They obviously spared no expense with an open bar, a small dance floor and a live pianist who played themes from different Broadway shows. The tables held elegant centerpieces of white roses with sprays of baby’s breath. Candles flickered in crystal cups.
“This is the nicest cast party I’ve ever been to,” Len Hostetler said, doing a drive-by hello on the way to the bar. He kissed my cheek. “Tell your folks I said grazie.”
Angie, Bonnie, and I took a table in the rapidly filling room. I frowned at all the faces I didn’t recognize—far more people than HCT cast and crew. Most were older, in fact, and dressed to the nines as if this were some kind of awards gala.
Or a Wexx convention, I thought with a tiny stirring of something unpleasant in my gut.
Angie did her best Seinfeld impression. “Who are…these people?”
“Good question.”
My parents approached us. Twin expressions of apprehension. My mother was elegant, if a little overdressed in a silver sparkly floor-length gown. Dad wore a dark suit with a ruby red tie that matched my mother’s lipstick. Mom’s face was pale and her eyes darted around as if she were trying to avoid someone.
“Mom and Dad, this is Angie and Bonnie McKenzie. Angie is pre-med at Stanford University and Bonnie is a therapist.” I looked my father in the eye. “My therapist, actually.”
Mom winced at that, and my father’s lips pressed into a thin line before he managed a smile.
“Regina and Daniel Holloway,” Dad said. “Thank you for coming.”
Bonnie and Angie nodded and murmured something polite but no one offered any hands to shake.
