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I nod. “Another great tagline. You should write that down, too.” Heat is radiating from the places she is touching me. A hand on my arm, her whispered breath against my ear.
“If we weren’t standing here in the brightly lit auditorium, in front of our students and their parents,” I tell her, but we get interrupted before I can finish that sentence. I very much hope I can finish that sentence soon.
“What a marvelous show,” says a voice from behind us. We both turn to see Wanda Chamberlain grinning at us. She leans across the row of chairs separating us and kisses Joey on the cheek.
I’m so jealous. Jealous of an eighty-year-old woman who gets to kiss Joey Harker whenever she wants to.
On the other hand, I get to see Joey every day. So, on the balance, I guess I’m winning.
Wanda beckons me to lean down, and she kisses my cheek, too. “Beautiful performances. Excellent material. Glorious staging.” I try to gage the meaning of her words. The order. Was she giving a hint about which of us produced the more impressive element of the show? Which of us might be counted as the greater contributor? And for the first time, I definitely hope it’s Joey. I want her to be able to sit on the council.
I guess I can give a little nudge.
“Didn’t the screens make the whole thing a million times more appealing?” I say, gesturing to the stage. “Miss Harker’s vision brought every element of the show into the perfect light.”
Wanda fingers the edges of the silk scarf tied at her neck, but she’s giving me a look. She seems amused. Not surprised. Pleased.
Joey shoulders her way in front of me, as if somehow her presence might make it harder for Wanda to pay attention to my words. I mean, Wanda can see me over Joey’s head if she’s interested in looking past her. But I get it. When Joey’s front and center, you don’t pay attention to anything or anyone else.
Joey has her hands behind her back, and one of my hands is still clasped in hers. She shakes her head in that unassuming way. “The set would be nothing without the brilliant, fantastic dialog Mr. Kaplan put together.”
I give her hand a squeeze. Wanda is now looking at Joey, still with that pleased face. I don’t want the smile to come because Joey is praising me. “Have you seen Miss Harker’s gallery show? I’m dying to get to Boston so I can explore her photos on display.”
Wanda is still smiling. Now she looks just the tiniest bit smug. She knows things. Probably all the things. Before she can answer my question, Joey stage whispers at Wanda, as if she’s sharing a big secret, “Mr. Kaplan has a chance to do a summer run on Broadway. Let’s sneak down to the city and see his show together.”
At this, Wanda laughs. “You two,” she says, shaking her head. “It seems your competition has been turned on its head.”
Joey looks at me over her shoulder. Her face is startled. She turns back to Wanda. “What do you mean?”
Wanda waves her hand toward the stage. “This show was the last of the tasks set to the two of you. You’ve produced something magical.” She winks at us. “And you’re both standing here trying to convince me that the other person is the better choice. But let me tell you something I’ve learned.” Here, she grows serious. “There’s more to choosing a department chair than seeing who can produce great activities. And there’s more to creating a solid council than gathering a team of people who want their names on the roster.”
I want to interrupt. I want to deny that I want to be on the council because of status, but before I speak, I realize that she was right to assume that. Since that first day Moreau mentioned the committee position, I imagined the prestige attached to it. The validation it offered. The way it would justify my work and my career choice.
And I don’t need that anymore.
I don’t need someone else to tell me that what I do here is meaningful, or important, or worthy of my time and efforts.
I know it is.
I love this job. I love this school.
So I say nothing and let Wanda keep talking. And I hold tight to Joey’s hand.
Wanda smiles at us again. “Everyone focused on education knows that the future is in collaboration. And I like the two of you together.”
Is she talking about our work now? Is she hinting at a shared chair? Or is she saying something else? Does the two of us together mean the two of us together?
She doesn’t give me an answer to any of those questions.
“And now, I assume your cast and crew would like to celebrate with you. Happy holidays, you two.” She bestows another knowing smile on each of us and turns away to speak with the line of people that has grown up behind her in the auditorium.
Joey spins to face me, and her eyes are shining. “We have an absolute Fairy Godmother,” she says, her voice on the edge of a laugh.
“A Magic Wanda,” I say, and the idea for next year’s winter show drops, fully formed, into my head. Joey can see it. Her eyes widen and she covers her mouth with her hand to keep the laugh inside.
“Come on,” she says, tugging at my hand. “Let’s get back stage.”
