Page 87 of Yours, Unexpectedly

My smile wavers, but she doesn’t seem to have apparent negative feelings toward the Olsson family so I simply reply, “Yes, I am.”

I think I’m ready to come back

Gabe

Fuck yeah! I’m making shirts

Last night I dreamt about what life in New York could look like with Bex. So vastly different than my cold childhood or the overwhelming shame I still feel about my time here after undergrad. The dream was warm and mundane, shimmering around the edges with hope and love. Scenes flashed through, giving me a peek before melting into the next.

Eating takeout on the floor of a shoebox apartment.

Meeting for lunch breaks at a corner street cart.

Spending lazy weekend mornings tangled up in each other.

Her face in the audience as I’m performing at some Off-Off Broadway theater.

That last one will become a reality tonight, and I can’t fucking wait. I know she’s seen me in shows before but I had no idea she was in the audience. Tonight, even if I can’t see her, I’ll know she’s there watching me. Someone I love supporting what I love. I specifically chose one of my songs for her, and I’m desperate for her to hear it.

I head into the bathroom to get ready for the day and smile at the mess Bex left on the counter. An absurd amount of bottles and tubes mingling with the three things I brought: my toothbrush, deodorant, and pomade. It takes me all of seven minutes to get ready before I grab my bag and head to the theater.

I spend the afternoon warming up and hanging out with my fellow classmates. Cassie, my friend who sent Bex running from my apartment all those weeks ago, asks about how things are going with Bex, and I can’t keep the grin off my face.

“Holy shit. You love her,” she says.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Very much so.”

“I thought you were a perpetual bachelor, my friend.” We both laugh because everyone knew that’s pretty much what I had resigned myself to.

“I was just waiting for her to be ready.”

“And she is now?”

“I hope so,” I say, and then more firmly, “I think so.”

That’s how most of the day goes. Conversations between mic checks, reminders from our professors about direction notes, and because we are theater nerds, we break out in song several times around the piano. It’s been fun—the perfect way to get ready for tonight.

About an hour before showtime, I get a text from Bex that she’s on her way. I reply and then look up to see Callahan headed my way.

He stops in front of me, appraising me from head to toe. “You’re ready for tonight, Mr. Olsson?”

“As ready as I’m going to be.” I take a deep breath. “I just hope I haven’t blacklisted myself based on decisions I made years ago,” I say, letting a truth out that I didn’t even realize I was worrying about.

Callahan’s hands hit my shoulders and squeeze gently. “I’m not a betting man, but you, Anders… I would put all my money on tonight being a success for you. And not to brag, but my name does carry some weight around here, so if I’m willing to bet on you, I’m guessing the people filling this audience tonight will be too.”

As always, his words soothe something in me. I feel more prepared now—the last piece of apprehension melting away.

“I did come back here for a reason though,” he continues. “I wasn’t planning on telling you, but he’s insisting on seeing you before the show.”

Awareness prickles my spine. “Who?”

“Your father is here. I finally relented and told him I would ask you if you wanted to see anyone before the show. I will remind him again to kindly fuck off if I need to, but I wanted to give you the choice in case he makes a scene.”

“Erik would never make a scene, he believes he’s above that. He’ll threaten with money though, when he can.” I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to see him. I’m not sure why he’s even here, it’s not like he’s ever supported my career choice.”

“I will let him know.” He pats my shoulder twice, backing up toward the backstage door. “Break a leg tonight, son. I’m proud of you.”

My eyes sting and I can see a matching twinkle in his. “That’s the plan. Thank you for everything, Professor.”

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