times,” she reminded him. “And I’m wondering if you’ve asked yourself why.”
“It’s self-explanatory,” he murmured. “You’re afraid.”
“It’s more than that.”
He shrugged carelessly, and she could practically read his response. No big deal. Plenty of women willing to take him up on his offer.
“It’s your attitude.”
For the first time in their lengthy association, Sean appeared to be at a loss for words.
“I’m not some bimbo you can schmooze into bed. This might come as news to you, but there’s more to a relationship than what happens between a man and a woman in the bedroom.”
He stared at her, as if daring her to continue. “I happen to think you’re one of the finest pediatricians in this state,” she went on. “I respect your diagnostic and medical skills, and I’ve seen the way you are with the children. My regard for your professional abilities is immense. But your manner with most people in this hospital leaves a lot to be desired, and frankly I’m not impressed.”
“Is this the long version of why you’re not interested in dating me?” he asked with barely disguised disdain.
“Actually…I’d like to get to know you.”
His look implied that he wasn’t sure he should believe her. “You have an odd way of saying so.”
Despite his apparent indifference, she knew this couldn’t be easy on his ego. “I suspect there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“Great. Your place or mine?”
Liz wanted to groan out loud. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said! “Neither.” She held the door for him and added soberly, “When you’re ready to see me as an intelligent, mature woman whose professional interests are compatible with yours, let me know.” She leaned against the open door. “Otherwise you’re wasting your time.”
“I doubt that,” he said as he stepped past and paused to touch his lips to her cheek. “Give me a call when you’re ready for some excitement in your life.”
Liz rolled her eyes. Forget it, Doctor. I have enough excitement just dealing with all the staff complaints against you.
Some people never learned.
Chapter Three
KAREN CURTIS
“The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely”
—Lorraine Hansberry
January 1st
I woke at noon, nursed a tall, half-caff/decaf, double-sweet mocha latte for breakfast. Nichole phoned and wanted to hang out at the mall so we did. I ran into Jeff, who’s working at Body and Spirit Gym, and we talked for a while. He’s wasting his life teaching Tae-Bo classes to a bunch of overweight business executives who don’t care about anything beyond their corporate image. I found it really hard to hold my tongue. Jeff is letting his talent go down the drain and it upsets me.
Jeff and I made a vow to one another in high-school drama class that we wouldn’t give up the dream. It was all I could do not to grab him by the shoulders and remind him. It’s too soon to throw away the future, I wanted to tell him. Although I kept my mouth shut, I could see that Jeff was eager to make his escape. Hanging with me made him uncomfortable; it forced him to face what he’s doing.
What bothers me most is knowing Jeff isn’t the only one who’s given up; Angie and Burt did, too. Last I heard, Sydney and Leslee had regular nine-to-five jobs. So did Brad. Out of the seven of us who made up the acting ensemble, there’s only me left. I refuse to surrender to the mundane. I refuse to take second-best. I am an actor. Currently a starving one, but that’s beside the point.
All right, I’ll step down from my soapbox. God forbid, my biggest fear is about to become a reality. I’m beginning to sound like my mother, the Woman Who Always Knows Best. Now there’s a thought to send me screaming into the night.
She and Dad insisted I get a college education. I disagreed, stood my ground, fought the good fight, but then—during a period of below-poverty-level existence—I caved. Hey! They might’ve won the battle, but the war’s all mine. Since the day I was born, my domineering mother has attempted to run my life. From the moment I enrolled in college, she’s demanded I be a teacher. A lifelong occupation, she said. A good job for a woman. Give me a break!
Well, I have that precious degree, but it’s in history with a minor in education. I have no intention of using it, except where it’ll aid my acting career. Fortunately I’ve found a way in which to do that. Oddly enough, it also means my mother’s kind of getting what she wants. But that’s just a by-product. The important thing is I’m getting what I want.
You see, I’m a substitute teacher. Temporary and part-time. Due to the severe teacher shortage currently happening in southern California, anyone with a college degree—and it doesn’t matter in what—can be hired as a substitute teacher. Isn’t that incredible? I can have a degree in basket-weaving and qualify as a teacher for a whopping two-hundred-and-fifty bucks a day. Now, I don’t mind telling you that’s good money for part-time work. What’s so fantastic is this: I can pick and choose the days I want to teach.
If I can fit subbing into my schedule, I spend two or three days a week in a classroom. Three at the most. That way, I still make enough money to support myself. On the days I don’t work, I can audition for whatever’s available.
Before the holiday break, my agent sent me out to audition for a TV commercial for a new kind of toilet brush. The district called first thing that morning and without fear of losing my job and without so much as a twinge of guilt, I said I had other plans. No problem; they simply went to the next name on the list. I headed out the door, knowing there’ll be a job for me another day, if I want it. Sadly, I didn’t get the commercial, but rejection’s the name of the acting game.
As soon as school starts up after the holidays, I’ll be ready to go back to substitute teaching. With so many days off, I have to admit I’m experiencing a bit of a cash-flow problem. Christmas didn’t help, and neither did the cost of the one-day acting workshop last week. In fact, Jeff bought my latte for me today. But never mind, I’ll survive. I always do, despite my mother’s dire predictions.
I know I’m an embarrassment to her. She can’t brag about me to all her society friends the way she does Victoria. My sister had the good judgment to marry an up-and-coming attorney who raised our family’s social standing an entire notch. As far as I’m concerned, Roger is a twit, but no one’s asking for my opinion. Good thing, too, because I’m not afraid to give it.
One positive aspect of Victoria’s brilliant marriage is that Mom and Dad’s attention is now focused on my sister and her first child instead of on me (although I do have to admit my nephew’s a real cutie!). Basically Mom’s been leaving me alone. Thank God.
I once heard a psychology professor say that the females in his class should take a good look at their mothers because in all likelihood we’ll
