The Hotel - 42

Kirby did stay with the troupe. I found actresses to replace Jenn and Tessa, one of whom we'd used before when we did a show requiring more than two women. And so our lives moved on. I thought about Edwin more often than I liked for the first couple of months, then he slowly became just a memory of a man I could have loved, if things had been different.

Christmas came and went. We, the troupe, did a modified version of 'The Christmas Carol' for senior centers and shelters in the city as well as at several local restaurants. The last were paying gigs which helped defray our expenses.

We all had 'normal' daytime jobs, of course. I work at a small art gallery, Marsh at an electronics store, and Caitlin spends her days selling women's clothing at a mall. Phil, Noah, and Ramsey are, no big surprise, waiters, as is one of the new actresses. Kirby does telemarketing, which he hates but as he says, it keeps him in food and clothes. The other new actress is a beautician.

April rolled around. We had decided to do an oldie but goodie, 'The Importance of Being Ernest'. Even with Caitlin now acting, as well as doing the costumes, we still had to bring in two outside actors we'd used on occasion. I was debating, as I had several times in the past, enlarging the size of the troupe, but still hadn't made a decision on that.

Late one Saturday afternoon at the end of April, I was getting ready to leave the gallery. It had been a hectic day and the troupe had a performance at a women's shelter that evening. All I wanted to do was head home, eat, and collapse for an hour.

I had just come out from in back, after signing out, when the gallery door opened. I froze in disbelief.

Edwin stood there, looking around. When he saw me his face lit up. "I finally found you," he said, coming over. "You're a hard man to track down, but I remembered you said you worked for an art gallery. I didn't realize how many there are in the city."

"A lot," I mumbled, still in shock. He looked good. In fact, he looked great, at least to me—and probably anyone else who saw him if the expressions on the faces of my two co-workers were any indication. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled. "As I said, looking for you. I wanted to take you out to dinner." He frowned. "That is if you're free."

"I was about to leave for the day."

"Perfect."

I wasn't so sure about that. His standing there brought back memories I'd pushed to the back of mind—with good reason as I'd never expected to see him again.

Going to the door, he opened it, looking at me hopefully. I shrugged and joined him. Once we were on the sidewalk he asked if there was somewhere nearby with decent food. I told him there was, two blocks away. We walked there in silence because I, at least, had no idea what to say. I knew what I wanted to say, that I wished he was anywhere but here. All right, not quite the truth and if I said it aloud he'd know I was lying, damn it.