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If only she knew, I thought, she'd wonder why we were bothering with the play.

Even a play by Shakespeare.

Giggling to myself, I clung to Randall's hand and hurried down the sidewalk with him into the warm evening, excited, never more alive and eager to see what lay ahead on this roller coaster Fate had decided I should ride.

7

The Hand of Fate

.

Unlike Randall, I had never seen professionally

performed theater, but I didn't reveal that until after the play. Of course, I had read Macbeth in school, but seeing and hearing the actors, watching Lady Macbeth go mad and hearing the poetry was so overwhelming for me, I sat with my eyes glued to the stage, afraid to look away even for a moment. Throughout the production I sensed that Randall was gazing at me from time to time. If he tried to speak, I quickly shut him off. I didn't want to miss a word.

"That was wonderful," I announced when the actors took their last curtain call. Everyone in the audience was standing. My palms were red from clapping so hard. "I can't wait to see my next play!"

Randall laughed at my enthusiasm. That was when I confessed.

"Maybe you think I'm weird, but I've never been to one of these before."

"Never been to a play?"

"Nothing but school productions," I said.

"You're kidding?"

"No, I'm not kidding, Randall. You still don't understand what I've been telling you, where I came from, what my life was like. We didn't have enough money for food, let alone for plays, and my school in Washington, D.C., didn't arrange for us to go see any productions. Maybe they thought only a handful of us would go or those who would go would ruin the performance with our behavior. They were probably right."

"I did forget all that," he admitted as we walked from the theater.

"Well, it's all true, and now that I've seen how professionals perform, I really don't know what I'm doing here pretending I'm going to be an actress. I can't even begin to imagine myself up there, doing what they do."

"Oh, I'm sure you can do it, Rain. I'm sure you will:' he said.

I gave him a side glance and smirked.

"I don't believe in the fairy godmother anymore, Randall. Some gang member in my old neighborhood mugged her," I told him.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's just say I'm not making any plans to be disappointed, okay, and leave it at that."

He nodded.

"You want something to eat, right? We really didn't have any supper."

"I'm still too excited to eat, but if you're hungry, I'll eat something," I said.

He found a small place nearby called the Captain's Private Table where he ordered us fish and chips. When he asked for two pints of lager and lime, we exchanged quick glances, nervous as to whether we would be served without a check of identification. The waitress was overwhelmed with the noise and the crowd and just wrote our order down and brought it without question or comment.

"Now there's a successful performance," Randall told me. "We pulled it off together. Otherwise, it would have been embarrassing for me again. It's because you have that real sophisticated look."

"Getting by a distracted waitress is a little different from being on a stage in front of thousands of people, Randall Glenn."

I sipped my beer and gazed around. The restaurant looked like it was a local favorite, with no one but us appearing to be from out of town. At the table beside us, two young men spoke in what I thought was gibberish.

"I'll have Kate and Sydney," the taller of the two young men told the waitress.