Page 55 of Intermission

“I’ve been riding with him to Leopold for musical practice for about two months, Dad. I talk about him all the time.” I roll my eyes and give my brother a look that silently conveys theduhI’m thinking.

Ryan chuckles.

“And he’s...” Dad re-reads the caption. “Sixteen? Seventeen? He looks older than that.”

“No. He’s nineteen. Thesongwas ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen.’”

Ryan shoots me a strange look. I mouth, “What?” to him, but he just frowns.

“Nineteen?” Dad pulls the picture closer. “That fits a little better. But you say he’s still inhigh school?” Censure overlays Dad’s words as he slides the paper back to Ryan.

“No, Dad. Noah is a student at the community college. And he works two jobs, besides. He’s saving up to transfer to a theatre school in England next fall.”

“Atheatreschool.” Dad makes a face as if he’s just smelled rotten garbage. “Well,that’spractical.”

Knife, meet chest.“It’s not just any theatre program, Dad. It’s the London Academy of Musical Theatre. It’s one of the most well-respected—”

“Right. Right.” Dad wipes a hand through the air between us as if he’s erasing the content of the conversation from his memory and then picks up the medical journal again, only to pause, lowering it. “So if this Noah character is a student at the community college, what is he doing in a high school play?”

“Da-aad.” I groan. “It wasn’t a high school play. It was Leopold’s community theatre.” I enunciate each syllable, “Com-mu-ni-ty. Asin, all ages.”

“And it was really good, Dad,” Ryan interjects. “Our little Faith has some serious talent. You should have seen her. She was awesome.”

“If all those late night practices end up affecting Faith’s grade point average, it won’t be soawesome.” Dad lifts his journal.

“Aw, c’mon, Dad.” Ryan winks at me, and some of the tension in my shoulders loosens. “You know how important it is for Faith to have volunteer community involvement on her college applications.”

“True,” Dad concedes without looking up. “But she has to keep her grades up if she wants to get into a good school.”

“My grades are fine.” I clench my teeth. “I learned my lesson when you and mom made me quit ballet last year.”

Ryan places his hand on my arm and squeezes, reminding me to practice restraint.

“Faith’s a responsible kid, Dad. Give her a little bit of credit. Oh! That reminds me. I have next weekend off, and I wanted to run something by you.”

“Two weekends off in a row? For a resident?” Dad lowers the magazine again. “How did you manage that?”

“New month. And the luck of the draw, I guess.” Ryan shrugs. “Danielle and I are going to Des Moines and—”

“More wedding plans?”

“Oh, probably a little of that, but it’s not the main thing. Danielle’s mom got a bunch of tickets to go seeLes Misérablesat the Civic Center.”

“Les Misérables?” My voice rises about three octaves over the course of those syllables.

He shoots me another wink. “We thought maybe we could take Faith with us this time.”

With an undignified squeal, I jump out of my chair, practically knocking Ryan from his as I tackle him with a hug.

Ryan gives me a squeeze. “What do you say, Dad? If Faith can drive up to Iowa City early Saturday morning, she can ride with us to Des Moines. We’ll go to the show Saturday night and stay overnight at Danielle’s mom’s house. We’ll head home Sunday after lunch.”

“I’ll be at a conference in Phoenix next weekend,” Dad sayswithout looking up from his reading. “Check with your mother. See what she says.”

“Thanks, Dad!” I squeal again and hug Ryan a second time. “You’re the best brother ever!”

Ryan grunts from the pressure of my hug. “Yes, I am. I’ll even help you clear the table.” He lifts his eyebrows and nods toward the kitchen.

I start gathering the dishes, and Ryan takes what I can’t carry. In the kitchen, I turn on the water and start rinsing.