DoubleDown V (20 page)

Could be three friends if she invited Brittany, but she just couldn’t do it. Despite the renewed camaraderie of the past couple of days, she couldn’t help but worry that her poetry would just be a trigger for Brittany’s derision and ridicule.

“Well, I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“If you’re back before midnight, I’ll be very disappointed.”

Karen chuckled but wasn’t sure if her roommate was joking or not. “I’ll try to come home covered in hickeys and knocked up.”

Brittany suddenly shot up from the bed and pulled open the top drawer of her nightstand, rummaging around. Then she hurried over to Karen and shoved some foil-wrapped packets into her hand. Karen stared at them for a few seconds before realizing what they were. “Oh no, I’m not going to need these.”

Brittany wouldn’t take them when Karen held them out. “Maybe not, but better safe than sorry.”

Not wanting to argue, Karen stuffed the condoms into her purse.

“Now,” Brittany said, placing a hand on Karen’s shoulder and giving her a maternal look, “you go have some fun tonight. Don’t overthink everything like you tend to do; just let loose and enjoy yourself.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom,” Karen said with an eye roll, but actually she was quite touched by her roommate’s concern. Perhaps it was possible for them to patch up their tattered friendship.

*   *   *

Jacoby was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps that led to Coffee Underground’s entrance. He didn’t notice her at first, staring off into nothingness while idly twisting his goatee around a finger. When she spoke his name, he glanced up and his face broke into a smile.

“Hi, Karen, fancy meeting you here.”

She wasn’t sure if that was meant as a joke or not—with Jacoby it was hard to tell—so she merely smiled back as she stepped next to him. “Have you been waiting here long?”

“Um, for a little while I guess, but I don’t mind waiting. Gives me lots of time to think and observe.”

“Observe what?”

“Just life. It’s endlessly fascinating, don’t you think?”

“I suppose it can be,” she said, looking around at the surroundings, nothing more than a few rusted metal tables and some drooping plants. “But there doesn’t seem to be much life around here to observe.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. Look, over in that corner is a whole army of ants swarming over a single chocolate-covered cherry. That alone could keep me busy for hours.”

“Well, I can’t promise to be as interesting as an army of ants, but hopefully I won’t bore you too much.”

“You could never bore me,” Jacoby said, holding out a cocked elbow like a proper gentleman. “Shall we go inside?”

“Certainly, fine sir.”

They entered the busy coffee shop. The line was long, so Karen decided against getting a drink. Besides, her nerves had her stomach churning like a witch’s cauldron. There were no empty seats up front, but they were going to the back theater anyway.

As Karen led him that way, Jacoby stared wide-eyed at the people they passed. This obviously rubbed some the wrong way, eliciting a few rude comments that seemed to faze Jacoby not at all. He actually smiled and waved at a guy that called him a “douche.”

“So who’s more entertaining to watch, ants or people?” Karen asked as they made their way down the short hall to the theater.

“Hard to say. Let’s call it a tie.”

The theater wasn’t exactly packed like the coffee shop, but there were maybe a dozen people already seated on the benches, and that was actually a pretty good turnout for poetry night. More people than Karen wanted for her debut. At least she’d have some supporters in the audience. Speaking of which, she paused at the back of the theater and scanned the benches.

“Looking for your other friend?” Jacoby asked.

“Bobby, yes. He promised to be here, but I don’t see him.”

“Well, there are still a few minutes until it’s supposed to start. I’m sure he’ll be here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Karen said, but she already felt disappointed, crushed, as if the ceiling had collapsed.

“So, how does this work?”

Karen stopped scanning for Bobby and started scanning for someone else. “First I have to sign up with...oh, there he is.”

Purple Scarf was standing near the stage, talking with a group of people that didn’t seem interested in what he was saying. Tonight there was no scarf, but she still found it impossible to think of him as anything other than “Purple Scarf.”

Karen and Jacoby made their way to the front. She felt as if everyone was staring at her as she walked up the center aisle, but she knew that was mostly her imagination. Yet knowing that didn’t decrease her sense of being scrutinized.

When they reached Purple Scarf, they stood behind him, waiting for him to stop talking. The group he was chatting with had largely turned away, engaging in their own conversations. Still, Purple Scarf rambled on.

After a moment, Jacoby tapped Karen on the shoulder and whispered, “He’s standing on my foot.”

Karen glanced down, and indeed at some point Purple Scarf had taken a step back and now the heel of his shoe was on top of the toes of Jacoby’s. How could the guy not notice he was standing on someone’s foot?

“Excuse me,” Karen said, and when Purple Scarf did not turn or acknowledge her, she spoke louder. “Excuse me, but you’re standing on my friend’s foot.”

Purple Scarf stared at her for a few seconds then, without moving, glanced down as if he didn’t quite believe her. “Oh,” he said, lifting his foot and turning back to his disinterested crowd, a few of whom were wandering away. No apology or anything.

“Excuse me,” Karen said one more time. “I want to sign up for the Open Mic Poetry Night.”

“Ah, another fellow poet,” he said, holding up a clipboard with a pen stuck to its clip. “I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I?”

Karen nodded and scribbled her name on the sign-up sheet; there were seven other names above hers.

“Finally decided to stop standing on the sidelines and join the game, huh?”

“Something like that,” Karen said, handing the clipboard back.

“Well, let me assure you that you shouldn’t feel bad if you bomb. Most first-timers do.”

Karen recoiled as if slapped. She was anxious enough as it was; she certainly didn’t need Purple Scarf predicting failure before she even got up on stage.

“She’s not going to bomb,” Jacoby said, taking Karen’s hand and leading her away from the stage. “Her poetry is amazing.”

“You’ve never read any of my poetry,” Karen said quietly as they found a seat near the center of the theater.

“No, but you’ve got a poet’s soul, that much is obvious.”

“Thanks,” Karen said, but she was already scanning the crowd again, craning her neck to look back toward the hallway that led from the coffee shop.

“Still no sign of Bobby?”

Karen turned to face forward again. “No, but something may have come up, or maybe his mother wouldn’t let him come.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal.”

But it felt like a big deal. Bobby had promised her he’d be here, promised she wouldn’t be alone if she agreed to get up and read one of her poems. How could he bail on her?

Of course she wasn’t alone, Jacoby was here with her. But Bobby didn’t know that—he didn’t even know Jacoby was coming.

The crowd quieted as Purple Scarf took the stage and welcomed everyone. Karen actually heard a few groans when he announced that he was going to open with one of his own works. It was titled “Your Face Would Be Good for Target Practice.”

What she heard of the poem was putrid, but her mind wasn’t really focused on the words being spoken on stage. She kept glancing back at the hall, wondering where Bobby was.

*  *  *

When she’d signed up, seven had seemed like a lot of people ahead of her, but despite the fact that some of the poems read were quite long, they might as well have all been reading haikus because it felt like no time passed before it was Karen’s turn. When Purple Scarf said her name, she scanned the crowd a final time, then turned to Jacoby and whispered, “Let’s just get out of here.”

“What are you talking about? You’re up, now’s your chance to show everybody what you can do.”

“Really, I don’t think I can do it. My poem is stupid. Everyone’s going to laugh.”

“No,” Jacoby said firmly, and looking in his eyes she saw him more focused and present than she’d ever seen him. “You’re going to do great. Now get up on that stage.”

Then he reached over and squeezed her hand, and Karen felt herself flooded with...well, maybe not confidence but at least strength. Taking a deep breath she stood and started down the aisle toward the stage. The small theater didn’t have spotlights or anything, but she
felt
spotlighted.

Purple Scarf stepped off the stage without a word of encouragement as she took her place behind the microphone. She looked at the crowd, now dwindled to about ten, but that still meant twenty eyes trained on her, drilling into her like laser beams. She again felt the overwhelming urge to bolt, but then she spotted him.  Not seated, but standing at the back of the theater. Bobby, here after all.

He seemed to notice her noticing him, because he smiled wide and gave her two thumbs up. The floundering strength that she’d gotten from Jacoby intensified and spread like a blossoming flower at the sight of Bobby and his supportive smile.

“Hi, my name’s Karen,” she said into the microphone. There was a bit of feedback, and then she continued, “I’m reading a poem called ‘Nothing More than People.’”

She closed her eyes briefly, took several deep breaths, then looked out into the crowd, caught first Bobby’s eye, then Jacoby’s, and began to read, reminding herself to speak slowly and enunciate:

We live in a society

That offers no variety;

It leaves no room for change.

So if you don’t conform

To what is called “the norm”

You’re looked upon as strange.

People tend to keep a distance

From anyone who’s different.

We pass judgement on those we’ve never met.

But our diversity is our source

Of strength and power of course,

But at times it seems we forget.

For when it comes the time

To have an open mind,

Instead we close our hearts.

It really is a shame,

But everyone’s to blame;

We all have played a part.

But I pray the time is near

When prejudice and fear

Will vanish into the past.

Then the deviant and the poor,

Who’ve been bound down before,

Can say, “We’re free at last!”

I am dreaming of a land

Where every woman and man

Is treated fair and equal.

No matter what our race,

Or what our sexual taste,

We’ll all be nothing more than people.

When she was done, Karen looked up from the paper and stared out over the crowd. She winced a little, half-expecting people to start pelting her with rotten fruit like she’d seen in old movies. For what seemed an eternity but in reality was little more than ten seconds, there was just silence. Then the applause began.

Bobby and Jacoby started it, that she saw clearly, but the rest of the audience followed. The crowd being so sparse, the applause couldn’t exactly be categorized as thunderous, but it was loud and didn’t seem perfunctory. Jacoby put his pinkies in his mouth and wolf whistled.

With a relieved smile, Karen mumbled a thank-you into the microphone before hurrying off stage. Jacoby met her in the aisle and gave her a tight hug, saying, “Told you you’d be great” in her ear, his breath tickling her neck. She was thrumming with energy that coursed through her body like an electrical current.

“Well, that was certainly cute,” Purple Scarf said, taking the stage again. “That was our last participant of the night...unless anyone else wants to give it a shot.”

People were already gathering their things and heading into the aisle. Several people stopped to congratulate Karen and tell her how much they enjoyed her poem. A goth lady who looked much too old to still be goth told her, “Right on, you tell it, sister.” Karen thanked everyone who complimented her, but she was searching for Bobby. She no longer saw him, and she could only assume he ducked out sometime after she finished her poem, but she couldn’t figure out why.

She and Jacoby started following everyone out of the theater, but Purple Scarf came up behind them and said, “Can I have a second, Kathy?”

Turning back with a tight smile, she said, “Karen.”

“Of course. I just wanted to say that you made a valiant first effort, but....”