THERESA, Chapter 35

The Story So Far (TGF subscribers can read earlier installments): Terri goes to a party in the Village with her new best friend, Chris. One of the hosts is a beautiful young woman who (Terri suddenly realizes) is none other than Jim Walters, at one time her fellow student at Littlefield Academy. Terri, not wanting to be recognized as Alan, makes minimal conversation and goes off “to get a drink.” Jim and Chris, appearing to be quite interested in each other, barely note her departure. On her way out, she encounters Brad, another host and would-be novelist, who comes on to her and invites her on a dinner date.

Terri now realizes that she must share her secret with Chris before her friend learns it from Jim. She invites Chris to dinner at her apartment. After much dithering, Terri begins to tell her tale — only to learn that Chris had already figured out on her own that Terri had once been Alan and wasn’t fazed in the least by having her theory verified. Two days later, Brad comes by to take Terri to dinner. His muse has inspired him, and he’s begun work on a novel about a transsexual who’s living in NYC.

For a moment, I was afraid I was going to sink right through the floor and float away forever through the sewers of Manhattan. Then I knew I wasn’t going to be that lucky. I made myself look at Brad. He was still smiling — was it the kind of smile a cat bestows upon a captive mouse? Jim must have told him about me. Then why was he here? To gather background information for his novel?

“Uh…Jim…?” I quavered. “Jim” was supposed to be the first word of “Jim told you?” but I couldn’t get the other two words out. I was about to try again when Brad jumped into the conversational gap.

“No, it’s not about Jim,” he said. “He’s been very helpful, though. He’s showed me how he goes about making himself look like a woman, and he’s explained the different reasons why some men dress as women. He’s what’s called a transvestite. He likes to dress up every now and then, just for fun, but he has no desire at all to actually be a woman or even to live as a woman.”

Brad was still smiling. Perhaps I should discretely change the subject — but how? Brad sensed another conversational gap. “No, my protagonist is based on someone Jim told me about — a kid he met in prep school. They went to Littlefield Academy — that’s a boys’ school in Connecticut. This kid was completely intent on performing a girl’s part in a school play — so much so that he actually got into character by living as a girl, full-time, for almost the whole school year.”

If Brad felt a need to explain Littlefield Academy to me, perhaps he didn’t know about me after all. Perhaps I could dare to say something. “That sounds like he was quite…uh…serious about his acting, but how do you know he really wanted to be a girl?”

“I suppose I don’t,” Brad said cheerfully. “But it was the idea I needed to get my story going. I figure if he was willing to put up with all the crap he must have gotten from the other boys, there must have been something more than a love of acting driving him.”

“What happened to him after that?”

“After that school year? I don’t know. He didn’t go back to Littlefield the next year and Jim didn’t know where he went or what he did after that.”

“So what happens to him in your novel?”

“Not much yet,” Brad said. “I’ve only written a couple of chapters so far. It’s all in my head, pretty much, but it takes time to get it down on paper. Especially when there are beautiful girls like you around to divert me.”

I blushed. “Theresa Sayers, the anti-muse,” I said. “Finding creative ways to inspire men to be uncreative.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” Brad said — but at that moment, our waiter arrived with our appetizers, and further discussion of what he really meant, as well as the content of his opus, was put off for another time.

I ingested the last crumb of my dessert and sighed contentedly. “That was really wonderful, Brad. I’m no longer a starving actress.”

“Somehow, I can’t quite see you going very long between plays,” Brad said. “You’re much too good for that.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, “but you’ve only seen me on stage once. You may change your mind if you see me again.”

“I doubt it, but I guess we’ll find out soon. I’m planning to see As You Like It, you know.”

“Oh, good. I think it’s going to be a first-class production — a very strong cast and an excellent director. Let me know which performance you want to see and I’ll leave tickets at the box office for you.”

“Tickets? Plural?”

“Tickets. Two. In case you want to bring a friend.”

“Totally unnecessary,” Brad said. “I’m planning to take you out to dinner after the show. Two tickets means three of us at dinner, and three is still a crowd in my book.”

The restaurant was in an interesting corner of the Village. Actually, all corners of the Village are interesting in one way or another, but this one was a bit above average  – lots of unusual little restaurants, clothing shops with outrageous frocks in their windows, a travel agency that seemed to be focused on some small island off the coast of Thailand, and so on and on…

We strolled around for a while after dinner, exploring the area and speculating on the possibilities of two or three of the restaurants as potential future dinner destinations, without actually making a date.

I found myself becoming attracted to Brad. He was knowledgeable and witty and fun to be with – and yet there was something about him that seemed a bit…dangerous. I was careful not to ask any questions about his novel, and he didn’t bring the subject up himself. We kissed goodnight at my apartment door, and he said he’d call me in the next day or two.

As he turned to go, I caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes — a very masculine, I-know-things-and-I’m-in-control look that I recognized from a number of exchanges with Dad during my teen-age years. Part of me thought I’d be playing with fire if I continued to date him, but the rest of me — the majority, as it happened — told me to relax and have some fun.

Well, fun was fine but our schedules were pretty full, since we were both working and I had rehearsals most evenings. We were able to get together for a quick lunch one day just before As You Like It opened on April 10th, and I gave him a ticket to the April 24th performance.

The critics were very kind to us, and we had something of a hit on our hands. If I hadn’t gotten Brad’s ticket early, it might have been impossible to get one after we opened. That night, after the show, he took me to one of those funny little restaurants we’d seen on our first date. He was even kinder to me than the critics had been, and I had to wonder if I was getting a large dose of Brad-flattery. Perhaps so, but I enjoyed every word of it and we kissed in a rather friendly fashion when he dropped me off at my apartment. After that, he wanted to come in, of course, but it was late and I had to get up early for my day job, so I kissed him again as a reward for his kind words and sent him on his way.

As I drifted on the edge of sleep that night, the thought that had been wandering around in my brain for the last few weeks finally came into focus. Brad was really an enigma to me. He hadn’t said anything more about his novel, and I somehow couldn’t believe that it wasn’t, to some degree, about me. I needed to talk to someone with a better understanding of guys than I had. I needed to talk to Chris.

To be continued…

Category: Fiction