The Woman Who Fell To Earth

Chapter 23

Art stared at his name on the marquee: Art Starfire: The Art of Humanity - How to Live a Life that's Worth Living. A sign below read Sold Out. It was surreal, his image on a billboard overhead, his name in lights. He never imagined his life taking this turn. Never imagined giving up his life in purchasing to pursue a nationwide tour of speaking engagements where people would pay to listen to him. It was absurd.

He took Angie's hand and together they walked into the conference center, down the hall to the green room behind the stage in the auditorium. Someone had left a tray with bottled waters and a plate of crudités and finger sandwiches.

"Ooh, snacks," remarked Angie, picking up a miniature chicken salad sandwich and popping the entire thing in her mouth. She did this with a second sandwich, then a third. Art stared. Angie shrugged. "Hey, I'm not going to pass up free food," she said between mouthfuls.

Art chuckled. "You're right," he said. "I'm too nervous to eat. I'm too nervous to talk. Or breathe."

Angie put her arms on his shoulders and moved in close to him. "You're breathing fine," she said. "You are going to be great! They will love you!" She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Just like I do."

Art smiled, kissed her mouth sweetly. "And I love you."

Angie adjusted his tie. "You look wonderful, and I know you are ready for this." She looked at the wall clock. "Fifteen minutes til show time," she said.

Art looked at the clock. "Ten minutes," he corrected her.

She shook her head. "Nope, you wait fifteen minutes. Only losers start their presentations on time. Give the audience a reason to get anxious. But you can't wait too long. You're not that popular yet."

"You're brilliant," said Art. "I knew I did the right thing bringing you."

"Oh, like you'd have had a choice," teased Angie.

"If I wait twenty minutes, we can have a quickie," said Art, raising his eyebrows.

Angie laughed. "Not happening," she said. "I spent way too much money getting my hair done."

Art shrugged. "It never hurts to ask." He took a deep breath and opened the briefcase he had brought along with him, taking out his note cards. He stared at the first one, his opening lines. A crease formed on his forehead, his eyes grew distant.

Angie cleared her throat. "I wish David was here, too," she said, reading his thoughts. She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, then let go. "But you know, she's here," she pointed to Art's head, "and here," pointed to his chest. "I have never in my life met a platonic couple as codependent as you two," she said, and laughed in spite of herself. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I don't mean to laugh. I know you miss her."

Art looked into Angie's eyes. "I know what you mean," he said. "We're like the odd couple."

"You used to be," said Angie. "But now it's almost like a symbiotic relationship – like a rhinoceros and a tickbird. Or a shark and that sucky fish. Or Elliott and E.T."

Art faked a laugh. "Elliott and E.T.," he repeated. "That's a good one. I prefer to think of us more like Batman and Robin."

"Ooh," cooed Angie, a mischievous look in her eye, "I'd like to see you in those tight green panties."

"I'm Batman," Art stressed.

Angie raised her eyebrow. "You wish," she joked.