Page 98 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
I’m having trouble keeping up, to be honest. “Great. Hey, um, any chance you’d like to go with me to a play? I scored tickets to this semester’s must-see—”
Eaton screams in the background. “I know, Bubbub, but Mama is on the phone. When is it?”
“This Saturday.”
“Sorry, Bea. I can’t, but let me ask Mom. Besides she’s totally the theater buff in the family.”
“No, it’s really okay—”
“Don’t be silly. She’s right here, Ma! Bea wants to take you to a play. Saturday. Awesome. I’ll tell her. She can’t wait. Text her the details.”
I grab my phone. “You want to see a play with me Saturday?” I text my mother.
My mom texts back, “Oh, thank heavens. She’s alive.”
Another text pops up from her. “That depends. Is it SDSU’s production ofMuch Ado About Nothing?”
“Mike gave me a couple of tickets.”
“When do I pick you up?”
“I’m surprised to see you in white.” Mom says when I slide into her Lexus that Saturday.
“I’m tired of black.” The truth is I’ll never wear it again. Too similar to the cosplay I wore the last time Mike saw me. The little white dress that I had in the back of my closet is the furthest thing I have from my black faux leather fiasco.
“It’s cute. Did I buy you that one?”
“No. I bought me this one.” For all the cocktail parties I never went to after joining the firm and ceasing to have any life outside of work.
“So you’re feeling better?”
“Had my last dose of antibiotics this morning.”
Mom pats my hand. “I’m glad we’re going to the final show.”
“Me too.” Seeing only this one performance will keep me from looking like a sad puppy for showing up at all the others.
“I’m surprised this production isn’t on campus.”
The Old Globe in Balboa sure does feel swanky for a college-student play. “Apparently, it’s not just a campus production. It’s some sort of collaboration between the theater department and the San Diego whatever.”
The air is damp and cool and accented by all the eucalyptus trees as we walk into the Globe. “Eucalyptus smells so much better when it’s fresh,” my mother observes. “There is a spicy earthiness that never translates.”
“I don’t know.” Lately, I’ve become attached to the smell of eucalyptus regardless of the source.
“Nice seats. I do hope your Benedick has an equally good Beatrice onstage.”
“Molly!”
I turn to see my father standing in the aisle. “And Bea! Fancy seeing you here,” my father says.
I bristle. “What is Dad doing here?”
“George! What a surprise! I didn’t realize you were going to be here tonight.” Mom waves him over.
Dad gives Mom a peck on the cheek. “My clients, the Gilberts, have their granddaughter in town looking at colleges. She’s leaning liberal arts, and I invited them to come see SDSU’s liberal arts in action. I didn’t realize it’d be so tricky to get seats at the last minute. Had to pull quite a few strings.”
I don’t buy it for a second.
