A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,87

about to become a playwright. This is big. Exciting. You need to dress as though you can take on the world. You’re going to look like a maitre’d at a lesbian nightclub in this outfit. You should at least have exciting underwear. And spiky, sexy shoes. Besides,” she asked casually, “isn’t Michael going to be here?”

Diane shook out the pants carefully without looking at her. “I haven’t heard from Michael in weeks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Me too. Actually, I was thinking about socks and sneakers, but I think maybe just plain black flats. I am going to be an absolute wreck tonight, I know it. The least I can do is be comfortable.”

Rachel was shaking her head. “Mom, how boring. Wait, what about your hair? I brought my chopsticks. We can put your hair into a French twist. You’ll look amazing.” Rachel started combing out her mother’s hair, pulling it tight.

“Listen, Rachel,” Diane said, “About tonight. You’ll be sitting with your dad, right?”

“Yeah.” Rachel twisted up Diane’s hair and stuck in one of the chopsticks. They were standing in front of her dresser. Diane met her daughter’s eyes in the mirror.

“What’s going on, Mom?”

“Well, Quinn Harris is kind of my date.”

Rachel worked another chopstick through Diane’s hair, then put in some hair pins. She pulled a few strands of hair around her mother’s face. When she was done, she kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, Mom. I just want you to be happy, okay? Quinn is a neat guy, really. I like him a lot. If he’s here for you, that’s what really counts, you know?”

Diane nodded. She felt strong, glamorous. She got dressed and went out into the living room, where Emily and Megan applauded as Diane spun around, balancing on the tips of her shoes. There were roses in the living room, a massive bouquet from Quinn. She picked one, snapped the stem, and pinned it carefully to her satin lapel, then they all piled into the Subaru and drove off to Merriweather.

The curtain went up at 7:30. By ten after eight, Diane knew they were a success. The crowd laughed in all the right places, listened carefully when the dialog was serious, and half a dozen times had burst into applause. By the intermission, she was on cloud nine.

Quinn was right there, his arm tight around her waist, pushing her through the crowd in the lobby. He left her side only to bring them champagne from the tiny bar. He was incredibly proud of her, and of her obvious triumph. Sam French was ecstatic. He came running from backstage to kiss Diane repeatedly on both cheeks.

“What do you think, Quinn?” Sam asked, “Are we going places, or what?”

Quinn smiled and drew Diane closer. “There are some people here who are going to want to talk to you both,” he said. “Sam Levinson from the New School has already given me the high sign. Make sure you see him after the curtain.”

Sam flittered away, and Diane leaned against Quinn. Her daughters were coming toward her, happy and excited.

“Mom, this is so cool,” Megan said.

“Yes, it is. How do you like it so far?”

Rachel was beaming. “It’s funny, Mom. The people here are loving it. Congratulations.”

The lights blinked. The second act was beginning. They filed back in, and the rest of the show went off beautifully. After the final curtain, Sam French came on stage for a bow, and called up Diane. She ran up the steps of the stage, heart pounding, and her eyes blurred with tears as the audience rose to their feet. She beamed, bowed, and saw Quinn in the third row, smiling and applauding.

Afterwards, the crowd lingered in the lobby, where a long table of champagne glasses and hors de oeuvres was set up. Diane was bowled over by the response of the audience. Quinn stayed beside her as people she had never seen before told her how wonderful she was, how talented, how much they had enjoyed the evening.

Diane didn’t need alcohol to feel drunk. She was giddy with power and triumph. Every nerve was alive, every sense heightened. Quinn was more than a shadow behind her. She could feel every touch of his hand, every movement of his against her skin. She looked into his eyes and saw openly, for the first time, desire. Something akin in her answered. This is why, she thought fleetingly, men must make love after war, why victory must be answered with sex. She wanted Michael so badly the ache