that read: Wooing Week Two
“I very much enjoy our conversations, my lady,” Pig-Boston said.
“And I as well,” Mannequin-Chad returned.
Lincoln stood then, holding up the final sign: Wooing Continues.
Boston took the mannequin’s other hand, causing her to lean abruptly to one side before Chad managed to get her upright again. “You are the maiden I didn’t know I sought,” he said. “Did my heart love before now? For I never saw true beauty until this night.”
The mannequin gave a very feminine sigh. “It is daytime, but I forgive thee. I love thee also, my sweet cunning ham.”
The crowd roared at that. Chad broke character and stood, laughing out loud and looking out into the crowd until the pig kicked him in the shin. He ducked back behind the mannequin.
“If you love me,” the mannequin said loudly, “reveal to me your true identity. For though I do love a good ham, I yearn to look upon your handsome face again. I have not seen it since we danced these many weeks ago.”
“I cannot, my lady. Can you not love a swine every bit as much as a man?”
“I beg of you,” Chad said.
Pig-Boston shrugged and Mom and Lincoln moved up behind him to help him remove the pig head.
As it lifted from his shoulders and the sun caught the gold in his brown hair, my heart did a weird little flip inside my chest. He was so handsome, even dressed as a pig. But I did not like the direction this play was taking at all. It was hitting a bit close to home, if I was being honest.
“EEEK!” Cried the mannequin, causing several people in the crowd to cover their ears in pain.
“Maybe not so loud,” Boston hissed at the doll.
“I cannot help it,” Chad said. “My surprise is so complete. You are not the man from before. I believe you have misled me, you cruel cad.” Chad lunged at Boston, bringing the mannequin’s arms up to swat at him.
Boston stepped back and Mom tittered loudly and stood again, turning to the mannequin. “Do not waste your love on someone who does not value it, my dear.”
Lincoln moved to the front of the stage and put his arms out wide. “Wine is great, plays are questionable, and people in love are crazy.”
“That’s not Shakespeare!” someone shouted from the audience.
Lincoln frowned while he shouted back. “Does it look like we care about being technically correct? I give you, Act Three!”
There was more shuffling on stage and in the audience, as people began to realize that this was no kind of official performance and that they did not have to behave especially well for the remainder. Someone tossed a taco onto the stage, and I gasped. What a waste of a taco.
Dalton kicked the tasty treat off the stage and took over mannequin duties as Chad popped into the scene, clearly himself again.
Mom, Boston, and Lincoln stood just apart from the doll.
“Hello there, friends,” Chad said. “Oh! ‘Tis you!” He turned to the mannequin. He had the good graces to look chagrined. “I must apologize for deceiving you. For it is I who must apologize, not my friend the ham.” After he said these words, he turned to face the audience, searching the crowd and then finding me, his eyes meeting mine. “For never was there a story of more woe than this of the ham and the lady. I am truly sorry.”
My heart lurched and though the crowd laughed on cue, I couldn’t. This wasn’t just a horrible play. This was my life they were re-enacting, and I felt all the more stupid for having fallen for it. I might have been willing to forgive Boston, but I was still hurt. Chad kept his gaze on me. “I’m sorry. I should never have deceived you in the first place.”
I felt every single head turn in my direction and I wanted to hide my face to avoid the humiliation of every person here knowing how gullible I’d been.
But then Boston moved and my attention flew to his handsome face. He locked gazes with me and removed the microphone from the stand. Chad and the others stepped back, and they might as well have left the stage for all the awareness I had of them.
I stared up at Boston, my heart in my throat as a wild circus of emotion roared through me. It had been painful reliving their deceit, but seeing him in front of me, on a stage, looking so completely sorry.