The Showmance, Part I

(Cora and Annie should love this story)

Every single person who has ever dreamed of romance or fairy tale love remembers with shocking clarity every minute detail of their very first kiss…as well as their very first heartbreak. Mine, like Babs’, occurred with the same boy. I was a little older than most, due to several factors, I’m sure. I was 17 years old, and a junior in high school. Coincidentally, this same experience was what turned me off to the infamous “Showmance” (Showmance – n. Being involved in a theatrical production and falling hard for a castmate, crew member, etc…only to have the pseudo-relationship end with the final curtain on the last day of the run) forever.

It was the summer of 1999 in Denton, Texas. The show was “Big River: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”, and it was my favorite show to date that I’ve done in a community theatre setting. His name was Dewey, and he was the son of the show’s musical director. Due to having been at camp for the first few weeks of rehearsal, Dewey just randomly appeared one night at a rehearsal. Immediately drawn to his amazing smile, great tan, and the way his hair fell over his eyes in a way that required constant pushing-back from him, I leaned over to my friend and fellow soprano, Dawn, and whispered, “Who is that guy?” She, being older and wiser (I’m sure she would disagree), whispered back, “Helen’s son. He has an amazing voice.”

I should mention here that this was also the first time I realized that pure, raw talent in a man was (and still is) enough to invoke some of the most intense feelings in my midsection, as well as the failure to use good judgment when acting on said feelings. It still amazes me how talent in a man can cause such an intense physical attraction in me to that man.

I sat back in my seat as Dawn smiled slightly at the sudden roundness of my blue eyes, which followed Dewey as he made his rounds saying hello to all his friends. However, due to years of horrible insecurity, I kept close to Dawn and avoided any group of people that involved this boy, this…man-in-training, as I was afraid of even the slightest brushing of his skin against mine might cause me to swoon. I tried to act professionally, and concentrated solely on the rehearsal. This just happened to be the night that I was selected to be one of two sopranos (Dawn was the other) to sing in the reprise of “Waitin’ for the Light to Shine.” Dewey was selected as the bass soloist for this number and, after hearing him sing, any chance of me ignoring his presence at rehearsal was down the drain. He was (and is) talented beyond his years, with a voice that contains warmth, strength, and an obvious love for the gift he has been blessed with.

After we ran the number around the piano a couple of times and were released to take a break, the unthinkable happened. Dewey turned to me and flashed his beautiful smile. I clutched my black binder to my chest, hoping it would cover the beating of my heart which had to be showing through my tank top. And then, that voice which sang so beautifully….spoke to me.

“You sing really well.”
“Uh…really? I mean, thanks…thank you, I mean. You…you do too!”
“I’m Dewey.”

He held out his hand and I had never felt more conscious of the wetness of my palms until this very moment in time. But his smile was so inviting that I couldn’t help smiling back. I tentatively reached out and grabbed his outstretched hand, making sure that the other was still clutching the binder to my chest.

“I’m Frecklehead.” (I obviously used my real name then)

Dewey gave my hand an extra squeeze, then went off to join his friends outside. I was grateful for this because I didn’t think I could handle much more at this particular moment.

Fast forward an hour or so to the end of rehearsal. I was standing in a mixed group of girls and guys, most of who went to the local high school (I lived slightly out of town) along with Dewey. We were talking joyously about the fact that we had all been excused from rehearsal the next night due to the musical director (remember…Dewey’s mother) being out of town when, without warning, Dewey walks up and joins the group. One by one, the girls and boys in the group left the theatre to go home until only three of us remained…including Dewey.

“Well since we’re all off tomorrow night, we should all hang out and do something,” he said, again with that killer smile.
“Hey great idea, man,” his friend Tony replied, “Gimme a call tomorrow afternoon, we’ll all do something.”

Then Dewey turned to me.

“Wanna come with us?”
“Oh…sure. I mean, I thought I had rehearsal so I didn’t make any plans…”
“Well let me get your number and we’ll all set something up.”

By this point I thought I surely must have been dreaming. No boy had ever asked me for my phone number…no boy that I hadn’t already known for 10 years and had established a strictly platonic relationship with, that is. Dreaming or not, however, I wrote my number down on his music score thinking all the while, “He’ll never call me. But it was nice of him to try to include me.”

I went to my summer job the next day, thinking nothing of the events of the previous evening. He was way too cute and popular to actually call me. Besides, everyone else in the cast went to the same school and they’re all in this Group, so they’ll probably just hang out together anyway.

When I got home that night, my dad had a message for me on my pillow. “Some guy called. Dewey? Said to call back.” The number stared at me from the lined piece of paper, daring me to call it back. I weighed my options. I could sit at home and enjoy my night off, watching Sense and Sensibility for the thousandth time…or I could call this cute guy back and see what happened. The memory of his smile and the way he sang took over every thought of my mind, and I picked up the phone and dialed.

Half an hour later I arrived at Dewey’s house, a beautiful colonial style complete with a wraparound porch and rocking chairs, set in the heart of Denton’s Historical District. This was the decided meeting place for everyone, I assumed. I walked up nervously, hating being the first person to arrive, and rang the doorbell to this amazing house. I was intimidated enough by this guy alone, and the size and beauty of his dwelling place did nothing to quell this feeling.

The door opened swiftly and there was that smile again.

“Hey! Glad you made it!”
“Hey…thanks for inviting me. Is everyone else meeting here, too?”
“Everyone else? It’s just you and me girl. Hey, are you hungry? I’m hungry, let’s go to Subway and then rent a movie at Blockbuster, okay?”

I’m sure I looked like a fool, standing there with my eyes wide. I was the only one? Had he done this on purpose? No…surely not! Surely everyone else just had other plans, or wasn’t able to borrow their mom’s car or something.

But his smile said it all. This guy was a planner, that’s for sure. As we made our way out to my car I tried desperately to control the butterflies in my stomach. This was a date.

To be continued….