Love Letter

Ian:

"Cannon River," I hear being shouted all over the auditorium. I couldn't make out any questions with all the shouting. I look to Regina to command the room like she was paid to do. She waits a few seconds later for what she must think is a long enough period for dramatic effect.

"One at a time," she shouts into the microphone. I had been prepping the last month and a half with Random Playhouse Publishing PR's people. I thought I was ready until I stepped out on stage and could only see flashes. I tried searching for Lynne's face in the crowd, but the flashes made it too hard to find her face. I had told Jimmy I wanted her backstage with me, but he said she would be too much of a distraction. What could be more of a distraction than trying to find her down below? If she had been backstage, I would have been able to look to the right and would be able to look at her whenever I wanted to. Regina points to someone up close to the front who I can't see.

"Why come out now after so long?" I can make the question out just barely.

"It was time to. You can only hide your true identity for so long," I say, remembering the practice questions we had gone through.

"How old are you?" a guy's voice calls out. We had assumed this would be one of the first few questions to be called out.

"I am twenty-six years old. I was born in New York City on March 22, 1987," I say, recalling to throw out facts about myself that could be checked by journalists.

"Why hideout?" was called out.

"Privacy," I say and smile after I look at Regina, who has the world's fakest smile, and I know she is reminding me to do the same.

The questions keep piling in one after another. Around the twentieth question and walking around more on the stage after my legs felt like they were going to give in, I spot Lynne in the front row looking up at me, smiling. I stop for a second and look down at her, and smile. Regina decides that this is time to conclude. "I'm sorry, but that is all the time we have for questions," she says, which I knew was my key to walk off stage and meet Jimmy backstage.

"You did good, kid," he says with a smile on his face.

"Thanks," I say, rubbing my sweaty palms on my dress pants.

"They were a lot nicer than I thought they would be. Must be the face," he says, laughing.