Instead of congratulating me inside the car on the way out to eat after the initial performance Grandma immediately begins to grouse.
"It's just not right that your name wasn't listed in the program."
"It's alright. It's no big deal. They probably just forget."
"Well it's just not right. You had a speaking role. You were the villain. You should be acknowledged for your part."
I again tell grandma that everything is fine. I tell her that I am just thankful for the experience. Grandma asks me if I let the person who was in charge of the programs know that my name wasn't listed. I say no.
“Well things will be said” Grandma intones.
It’s fine.” I tell her, feeling the way I felt a year ago at Steamboat when they gave me the plaque for being third place in my division when I realized the next day that the had made a mistake.
“It’s cool” I tell my grandma, “I like being anonymous. I like performing under the guise where no one know who I truly am.’
Grandma swipes her head in concentrated disdain. Grandma always refers to herself in the third person. Grandma tells me that Grandma is going to call them. That things will be said.
***
At dinner that night we are celebrating at Lums. I am walking back from the bathroom when I feel a squeeze on both my shoulders.
At dinner that night we are celebrating at Lums. I am walking back from the bathroom when I feel a squeeze on both my shoulders.
Someone has snuck up behind me again. I am loosening my equilibrium for what seems like the twelfth time tonight. For a second I think it is lil’ Betsy.
As I turn around I notice it is Jose, the senior, the captain of the cross-country team.
He is with a black girl I have never seen before. He is wearing a tank top and his cross-country sneakers.
“Hey man,” he says, smiling
I acknowledge. I am nervous. I tell him that it is good to see him. I am tell him that I am still averaging sixty miles a week even though I can only run twice a day because my evening are tied up.
Jose looks back at me. He tells me that’s good. He tells me that he’s only been able to run once or twice a week because of his job and he’s getting nowhere close to sixty miles a week.
The lady next to him introduces herself as Juanita, his girlfriend. I shake her hand by cupping both of my palms around her wrist and shaking her up and down like a water pump. I tell her it is a pleasure to meet her. I tell her that I am looking forward to running with Jose who I have seen running up and down Western avenue for the last three years. I tell her that I am looking forward to helping out the team in whatever way I possibly can even though I am only a freshman.
Juanita is smiling. In a nanosecond her lips turn south. She has a puzzled fearful look on her face. It looks as if she is about ready to swallow her tongue in medias electro-shock.
I turn to Jose
“Is your girl alright?”
Juanita answers for Jose.
“Uhm, are you wearing lipstick?”
I look back and smile.
“Yeah. I guess I am. I was in a show.”
Jose starts laughing. Juanita follows. I am thinking about the make-up lady who adorned my lips with a subtle shade of plush burgundy.
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