A Song in the Daylight. Paullina Simons
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out his hand to shake. He didn’t even nod in his direction as he was leaving.
Othello was sold out for all three performances. On Saturday night they brought the kids, sat in the second row, admired the actors, the well-rendered words, the superb set decoration. Michelangelo told his mother that she had painted a beautiful death scene.
Jared, leaning into Larissa, sitting by his side, said during the intermission, “I know that Shakespeare must have considered Desdemona and Othello’s marriage a good one, noble and decent and all that, but what if, I mean, wouldn’t it be funny if Desdemona actually did sleep with Cassio?”
“Dad’s right. This play is not appropriate for children, Mother,” said Emily, leaning over Michelangelo. “You should not have brought him.”
“She shouldn’t have brought you,” said Michelangelo, shoving away his sister.
“Perhaps Emily is right,” Jared said. “This play is not appropriate for adults or children.”
“What kind of a tragedy would it be if Desdemona was righteously killed?” asked Larissa. “This is like the things Leroy says when he wants to revise the script by ‘improving’ Shakespeare’s words.”
“Who the hell is Leroy?”
“You know. Leroy.” She pointed. “Standing with the script in his hand on the other side of Fred.”
“Who the hell is Fred?”
“Oh, darling, I told you about Fred.” Larissa sighed. “You never listen to me. He’s the annoying one, the theater department head wannabe next to the stage director wannabe.”
“You have to be more specific than that, Lar.” Laughing, Jared put his arm around her. “Hey, why can’t it still be a tragedy?” He kissed her temple. “To love, to be betrayed. That’s not tragic?”
“Not for Shakespeare. It’s par for the course.”
Asher leaned over his father. “When is this over? I really have to go home.”
“It’ll be over when everybody is dead, son. That’s how you’ll know it’s over.” Jared turned to Larissa. “What’s the spring play?”
“No one’s decided yet,” said Larissa as the curtain rose. “Much to Ezra’s torment, Leroy thinks it’ll be up to him.”
“Hmm,” Jared said. “You should be the director. You can drive to work in your little gold Jag. So zexy. When’s it coming?”
“I don’t know. Two weeks?”
“Did he say he was going to call you when it was in?”
“He didn’t say. I assume someone will call.”
“Usually the salesman calls.”
“Well, I guess then he’ll call.”
“He hasn’t called yet?”
“Jared, no, he hasn’t called. You know how you know? I’m not driving a little gold Jag.”
“Hmm. I guess. God, he was so pretentious,” whispered Jared. “Reading Felix Krull. Who does he think he is?”
“Who are you talking about?” Larissa said mock-tiredly, amazed at Jared’s visceral inexplicable hostility to Kai’s stoic silence in one ten-minute car ride.
Act III began. Enter Cassio and some musicians. “Masters play here. I will content your pains.”
At the end of February, the Jag came in. A momentous occasion like this deserved Jared taking time off work, but he was busy restructuring the fixed retirement instruments department and couldn’t. Larissa had to wait, but she did drive over in the afternoon to take a look at it.
“Winter Gold is nice, ey?” Kai said, beaming to a beaming Larissa, who put both palms on the hood, both forearms on the hood. It was magnificent. She wanted to lie down on it. She wanted to sleep inside it.
“Certainly better than the blue,” she said with spectacular regret, wishing she could drive it off the lot that very second. She settled for tuna and rice in the Escalade with Kai from 1:25 until 1:55.
After dinner Jared drove Larissa to the dealership, where the release paperwork was signed for the plates and the temporary registration, where the keys were exchanged and keyless combinations revealed. The car was so spanking, Jared even shook Kai’s hand! Larissa kept saying thank you. There was a lot to be grateful for. The Jaguar brought Jared and Kai together! Maybe they could be friends. Perhaps Kai could come over in the summer, reseal the walkway from the garage to the front door, and then have a frosty glass of freshly squeezed lemonade in her kitchen.
“So all is forgiven, darling?” Larissa said quietly and teasingly to Jared, while Kai went inside to grab the second set of keys. The situation was so diffused, she could even tease!
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jared said. And then louder, when Kai returned, “The color is fantastic. Perfect for Larissa.” And Kai agreed; Winter Gold was perfect for Larissa.
He showed her things: how to put the top down, how to adjust the power seat, control the automatic climate buttons, work the stereo and the menu buttons. They spent forty minutes in the car, him patiently explaining, while Jared sat in his Lexus tapping his fingers. “Lar, ready to go?” he asked, finally getting out and walking over to the Jag window. “It’s getting late.”
“Just a few more minutes, honey,” said Larissa. “I have to figure out when to use the third gear.” She looked at Jared brightly. “You can go home, if you want. I’ll follow you in, like, five minutes.”
Jared looked from Kai to Larissa and back again. “If it’s really going to be five minutes, I’ll wait,” he said.
Finally they left, Larissa as excited as a boy with trains on Christmas morning. She drove her Winter Gold Jaguar twenty miles an hour down Main Street with Jared behind her in his Lexus, honking at her to hurry it along. There was no putting down the top, since it was drizzling freezing slush. When she got home and pulled the car into the garage, she took out a roll of paper towels, went out and started drying the car by hand. Jared laughed at her.
“The children all want a ride, Lar,” he said. “Better keep that paper towel roll handy.” Since the car was a two-seater, she had to take them one by one, though Michelangelo made do with the tiny back seat, scrunched up, and went along with both Emily and Asher.
“Mom, that is the cooliest car I’ve ever seen,” Asher said. “I want you to drive me to guitar in it every week.”
“Yes, but we’ll have to get another mother with another car to drive the other two children to their activities, won’t we?” said Larissa. “We won’t all fit in this one.”
Jared put his foot down. “This is not a mother car,” he said. “This is a Larissa car, okay, guys? When you want a mother, she drives you in the Escalade. Larissa drives the Jag. Got it?”
That Saturday night they invited themselves to Maggie and Ezra’s just so Larissa could drive her Jag. Even the unflappable Ezra looked impressed.
“Happy now?” Ezra said, walking around the car, patting its trunk and windows.
“Delirious. But careful. You’ll scratch it with your ring.”
“Why would I scratch your car with my wedding ring?” said Ezra, taking his hands off it. “So has the Jag