Finally, Forever(38)

“Later,” he says. His determined eyes back up the promise. I reluctantly nod. I know we need to get on the road.

Gray tugs a sweatshirt on and lifts the hood around his face. By the time we hit the highway ramp, he’s already nodding off to sleep.



***



Flagstaff, Arizona. I see a sign off the highway that we’re entering the city limits. The road continues to climb up the mountain to the town hovering over 7,000 feet in the sky. Scrubby bushes and golden desert hills disappear and give way to thick pine trees and lush green forest. It’s as if nature is performing a dress up runway show, trying on different fabrics and styles, and we’re the audience.

When we exit into Flagstaff, Gray is awake, looking for directions to the comedy club. He directs me through campus and downtown. The old buildings have a dilapidated charm.

We slow down across from a small theater on the main street of town, squeezed between college bars and restaurants. An old marquee over the theater entrance advertises the comedy show starting tonight at 8:00. I look at the clock on the dashboard. It’s almost 7:30.

Gray opens the door for me and we walk inside a dim lobby with red velvet walls. A box office desk is in the back corner, surrounded by glass like an old fashioned movie cinema. We stand in line behind a few people, all college-age kids in shorts and sandals and t-shirts, tan from enjoying the last warm summer days.

“Just out of curiosity,” Gray asks, “when’s the last time you saw Serena?” It takes me a few seconds to remember.

“Easter,” I say.

“When’s the last time you spoke to her?”

“A couple of months ago,” I say. “I tried calling her this summer but she never called me back.” Gray looks a little unsettled at this news.

When we’re next in line I lean close to the glass partition. “We’re here to talk to Mike Stone,” I say. “He’s performing tonight.”

“Really?” the guy selling tickets looks back at me like I think he’s stupid. “Thanks for letting me know that, I never would have figured it out.”

Haha. Sarcasm at a comedy club. So fitting.

“Sorry. Listen, I’ve traveled over 2,000 miles for this moment. I’ve endured natural disasters, detours, even being detained by police officers. I need to see him right now. My future depends on it.” I close my mouth and realize I sound like a long distance groupie, the crazy stalker kind that carries ropes and knives, and this worker appears to register the same thing, since he leans back away from the glass.

“You can’t talk to the comedians before the show,” he tells me.

I open my mouth to argue and he cuts me off.

“Sorry,” he says. “The same rule applies to crazy stalkers.”

Gray interrupts us and asks to buy two tickets. He slaps down two twenty dollar bills and we get red ticket stubs in return. Gray pulls me away from the partition before security comes after us.

I follow him down the hallway toward the theater.

“I can’t believe you actually paid to see the vile Impregnator,” I tell him.

“At least it got us inside,” Gray says. “I don’t think your tactic was working any better.”

“I was just being honest,” I say.

He grins at me over his shoulder. “I think gauche is the word you’re looking for.”

“Show off,” I say.

He grabs my hand and pulls back a black curtain. We walk into a small, dark theater with a black stage framed with more black curtains. It smells dank and musty. There isn’t a single window in the room. Black floor tiles shine under our feet. Even the tables and chairs are black. I feel like I’m standing in the waiting room of death.

“This is a comedy show, right?” I ask, looking around.

There’s a bar at the back of the theater, lit up around the sides with ribbons of fluorescent lights. Gray walks up to the bartender who’s dressed in a black shirt and slacks. He sets cash down on the counter.

“Where’s the green room?” Gray asks the bartender.

He looks at the cash and back at Gray. “Why do you want to know?”

“We have to talk to Mike Stone’s girlfriend, Serena,” Gray says and points at me. “This is her sister.”

“The pregnant one?” the bartender says with a knowing nod.

“She could go into labor any second,” I warn him. “You could say we’re her ER team.”

The bartender grabs the cash and nods to a door behind the bar. “Go for it,” he says and pockets the cash.





Gray





Before Dylan opens the door, I get around her and block her way. She looks up at me and her eyes are confused. I know she wants to go flying through the door and jump into her sister’s open arms. She probably thinks Serena will cry with happiness and they’ll leave hand-in-hand, skipping away together under the starlight. I know how her daydreaming mind works. But I’m the practical one.