Yup, still owe you the Godspell post. Nope, this still isn’t it. Moving on …
It’s Friday night. Luau has generously postponed his trip to New York for the marathon until the morning so that Katie and I can spend the evening together. We are in the car on our way to dinner after a little too much shopping.
“Mama,” she says, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Okay, kiddo,” I say. “I’m all ears; whatcha got?”
“It’s about the play.”
Having scored one of the leads in her school’s Fall play – a suspenseful drama in which her character plays a pivotal role, talking about the play isn’t exactly novel these days.
“What is it, honey?” I ask.
“Well,” she says, “It’s just … I know that you said that you didn’t want me to tell you how the play ends because you thought it would be fun to see it unfold. But … um, well … here’s the thing. The content of the play is … well, a lot to consume.”
I smile. I can’t help it. I just love the way that she uses words. A Lot to consume. She is undeniably her Mama’s girl.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Is it heavy material?’
She sighs. “Yeah, it’s heavy. Really heavy. And I’m going to be honest with you, Mama. I think it’s going to be really difficult for you to watch.”
“Okay, Katie,” I say. “If you think that it’s better to tell me what happens, please do. I trust you completely.”
“I do, Mama,” she says. “I really do.”
“Okay, then,” I say, “go to it.”
She takes a deep breath before she speaks. The car is quiet but for the hum of the motor and the rhythmic vibration of the tires against the road.
“Okay,” she says, “here’s the thing. My character dies at the end.”
“Oh God,” I say without thinking.
“Right,” she says. “So I think it’s going to be really difficult for you to watch. And if you don’t think you can handle it, I totally understand if you don’t want to come.”
“Oh, baby,” I say, “You are so incredibly sweet to say that, but of course I want come. Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. But I am SO glad that you told me. I really appreciate you thinking it through this way. You absolutely made the right call.”
“Um, Mama?” she says, “There’s one more thing.”
Dear God, I think, what more could there be?
“Okay, what?” I ask.
“Um, my mom comes running in and discovers my body in the play,” she says. “It’s pretty emotional.”
I grip the wheel. The noise that comes out of my mouth sounds vaguely like, “Oy.”
“Mama, seriously,” she says, “I really get it if you don’t want to come.”
I steel my resolve. “Thank you, sweetie,” I say. “But I’ll be there. All I can really promise is to to try not to make too much noise when I cry.”
“Fair enough” she says. “And if it helps, I promise to hug you afterwards. Even in front of my friends.”
Ed note: You might have noticed that Katie has been largely absent from both Diary and its accompanying Facebook page of late. That is not, by any means, reflective of even a remotely decreased desire to share stories about her – or a dearth of material. Heaven knows it’s not ever the latter. Rather, it is out of respect for her increasing desire for privacy.
Both of my girls are always given the right of refusal on sharing their lives here. While Brooke continues, at least for now, to say yes more often than not, her sister has begun to say no the majority of the time. This time she said yes, and I am grateful, because I am overwhelmingly proud of the young woman that she is far too quickly becoming, and truly love sharing her with you.
Thank you for reading.