I walked through the early morning Wuthering Heights weather searching for the campus theatre, when suddenly my knees bumped into the inground "Red Masquers Performance Center" marquee.
There I was, Carrie Cecelia Ryhun, now a slightly bruised 47 year old coed, going to college to become a playwright. Scared? No. Anxious? A bit. Excited? Definitely.
Answering my front door banging, an elderly janitor let me in never asking for identification. For the fun of it, I flashed him my student badge anyway.
As I entered the room marked "Lydon Little Theatre", the lemon pledged aroma assaulted my sinuses. I walked up onto the stage. While I tried to guess how many seats the theatre held, a voice boomed out from behind the curtains. "Hell-O? Who's there? What time is it?"
"It's just me," I answered.
Then a thirty-something, sandy haired male appeared. He looked like he had spent the night, or maybe several nights there. He attempted to untossle his hair and properly position his wire rimmed eyeglasses as he spoke again.
"Hey, I'm Kurt."
"Hey yourself. I'm Carrie. Didn't mean to wake you. I'm here to get a feel of exactly what I've gotten myself into. Do you live here?"
"Only part-time when I need some peace."
"Piece of what?" I asked.
He smirked as his now wide-open baby blues gave me the thrice over. "By piece I mean p-e-a-c-e, CarrieCarrie. You here for Professor Greenfield's playwriting workshop?"
"Yeah. You too?"
"Yep. Welcome. How did you get here?"
"By airplane and then I drove up I-16," I replied.
"Yeah, right. No, I mean how did you get into this seminar? It's an invitation only thing, you know."
"Oh, about a year ago, I met Norman at a Catskills Elderhostel that I attended with my mom. I was his "ingénue" for his acting class. We clicked. We kept in touch, professionally that is. He got the grant for this workshop, he accepted my essay, made me an offer and here I am."
"I can hardly wait to read your writing; you do have the tartest tongue. I think it will be fun getting into trouble with you. So where are you staying?"
"At the Clarinda Inn. Where else? I was just headed back there for breakfast. "Want to join me? You could use my room to get cleaned up. And I presume, no rather hope to God, you plan to get cleaned up for class?"
"Yes. Yes. Yes. I always carry a change of clothes just in case."
"Let's do it," I said.
"Wow, that's the best invitation a beautiful woman's ever given me," he said scurrying behind the curtains.
While he clunked and clamored getting his stuff together, I realized what I just had offered and why he had so readily taken me up on my offer. I sent a note to myself that in the future I'd do more thinking before speaking.
The walk to my home away from home was quiet and sunny. In the inn's foyer, I gave Kurt my room key and asked what he wanted for breakfast. To be sure he knew I was talking about food, I quickly added: "Anything you don't want in your omelet?"
"I'll take everything Mrs. F. has in her kitchen. I'm ravished," he called back over his shoulder as he bounded up the hardwood stairs. I just stood there noticing his cuteness.
"Well, you ladies from back East don't waste any time getting chummy with the locals do ya?" Mrs. F. whispered in my left ear. "Come into my kitchen while I rustle up some breakfast for you scarecrows and you can fill me in on your new friend."
"Okay," I said, "I'll give you the poop but first you have to finish your bio you started yesterday."
"Deal. About seven years ago, I needed to come back here to tend to my Uncle Carl and luckily, I got a teaching job at the university. Though born and raised here, I hadn't been back except for funerals and weddings for over thirty years. Your Norman was one of the first people I met. We dated. But he was stuck in his ways. He carries this torch for the mysterious Ruby, his dead wife. You resemble her so I'm sure that Norman's invitation was somewhat personally motivated."
"No thanks. I love Norman for his brains, not his body. Besides, you sound like there could be a chance for you if Ruby weren't in the way." I offered.
"No, one male partner for one life time is quite enough!"
Before I could come up with another question, Mrs. Fenton poured another round of coffee and spoke up with, "Your turn." And so I started until a pair of hands shook my shoulders.
"Ahem. Ahem. Hell-OOO," Kurt interrupted.
"Oh, how long have you been there?" I asked.
"A couple hours." Kurt said. "Thanks for the shower. I really enjoyed the aloe mint shampoo and the warm vanilla scrubbing salts. Now I want to eat everything in sight."
Handing us our home fried covered omelets, Mrs. F said she'd bring in a fresh pot of coffee soon.
We chose our eating utensils and headed down the hall to the dining room.
To Be Continued...
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