We ride for over thirty blissful minutes, leaving the Pennsylvania State line, and arriving at a small amphitheater in a small town in South Jersey. It’s clear they’re preparing for a show although I don’t see many people sitting in the audience.
I lift my helmet off and dismount from the bike.
“Where are we?” I ask, hoping his mood has gotten a little better after our long journey on the highway.
“It’s a local production of Wicked.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah.”
“You remembered that one of my favorite musicals is Wicked?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs his shoulders as if it’s no big deal that he remembers, but to me, it's a huge deal. “I remember most things.”
I realize that I often choose to dwell in the time of our lives when Knox and I were pitted against each other once our parents assigned him as my pseudo big brother, but I also need to remember that for more time than not we were also friends. Admittedly, if there’s one person who knows the most about me–it’s Knox. He's always been there.
“How did you find this place?”
“I asked a friend. This was the closest choice to see a full production outside of us driving all the way to New York.”
“It’s a shame that there aren’t more people here to see the performance.”
“It’s a dress rehearsal. The show doesn’t open for another two weeks I think.”
“Oh.”
Knox walks to the theatre’s box office, where he chats with a young woman who points us in the direction of where we can sit. After we take our seats, Knox takes off his driving gloves and I can’t help but stare at the soiled bandage. I don’t say a word but simply slide one of my hands in his, making sure to not touch the wounded area. Whatever happened, I know it was in defense of me and that's all I need to know.
“Have you ever seen Wicked?” I ask him.
He stares at our clasped hands and then back at me.
“No, but I’m glad the first time I’m seeing it is with someone who loves it.”
I smile and rest my head on his shoulder.
“You’re going to love it too.”
After a long pause, Knox speaks again. “I’m sorry, Gigi. I realize it hasn’t been easy having me disrupt your life like this, especially because it’s almost like we’re getting to know each other all over again. God knows if the shoe were on the other foot I wouldn’t like it either.”
“So the ride here and the tickets to the show are you offering a truce?”
“You could put it like that.”
“Then a truce it is.”
We have front row seats since we’re basically half of the total audience, but the production is surprisingly well done. It’s so good that I’m dying to learn more about the theater, but before I can ask anything, a middle-aged man with pale green eyes and a blonde mohawk approaches us and shakes Knox’s hand.
“Nice to finally put a name with the face,” he says to Knox.
“Same.”
The man smiles at me. “Hi, I’m Ralph Jensen, the managing director of The Hollybrook Regional Theatre.”
“Hi, I’m Gigi King.”
“So I’ve heard.”
