Wednesday, May 3, 8:00 p.m., the Ethel
Lowenbaum Theater
It’s really very hard to write in here since the lights are down and J.P.’s play is going on. I’m doing this, in fact, by the glow of my cell phone.
I know I shouldn’t be writing in my journal at all—I should be paying attention to the play, since the senior project committee is here (and so are J.P.’s parents, as are all our friends who didn’t stay home to study for finals), and I should be trying to look like I support J.P., and all.
But I just have to write more about Michael’s e-mail.
Because, of course, I couldn’t keep it to myself. Ihad to show everyone at Grandmère’s.
Grandmère said it just proves that Michael harborsune grande passion for me. She says a million-dollar piece of medical equipment as a gift isn’t quite as romantic as a three-carat diamond and platinum promise ring.
“But,” she went on, “the fact that Michael donated it without your having asked for it is rather extraordinary. I’m starting to wonder if I wasn’t wrong about That Boy after all.”
!!!!!!
Honestly, I nearly fainted on the spot. I have NEVER heard Grandmère say she was wrong about ANYTHING!!!!!
Well, hardly ever.
Anyway, this was such a startling thing to hear coming from Grandmère’s lips that I nearly tumbled off the stool Sebastiano had me standing on while he stuck pins into the gown I was modeling. He said, “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” and asked me if I wanted to be stuck all over like a porcupine.
Only, of course, Sebastiano still hasn’t grasped the basics of the English language, so he just called it a “porc.”
“G-Grandmère,” I stammered. “What are you saying? Sh-should I give Michael another chance? Should I give J.P. his ring back?”
I swear my heart was slamming so hard inside my chest, I felt like I could hardly breathe as I waited for her reply. Which is weird because it’s not like I particularly VALUE advice from Grandmère, as she is, in fact, a certified lunatic.
“Well,” Grandmère said, looking thoughtful. “It is a terriblylarge ring. On the other hand, it’s a terribly expensive piece of medical equipment. But you can’twear a robotic surgical arm.”
See what I mean?
“I know what you should do, Amelia,” Grandmère said, brightening. “Sleep with both of them, and whichever young man performs better in the boudoir, that’s the one you keep. That’s what I did with Baryshnikov and Godunov. Such lovely boys. And so flexible.”
“Grandmère!” I was shocked. I mean, seriously: How evil is she? How could we even be of the same bloodline?
Honestly, I don’t consider myself a prude. But I think you should at least bein love with someone before you dothat with them (something I have tried unsuccessfully to impress upon Lana. Oh, and my grandmother).
Anyway, I told her not to be stupid, that I’m not sleeping with anybody. Mia Thermopolis’s Big Fat Lie Number Nine.
But whatam I going to do? I’ve gotten a confirmation e-mail back from Tina. (She’s here tonight with Boris. But, of course, we can’ttalk about it. Not with J.P. around. Oh, and Boris.)
She thinks Michael’s note meant what Grandmère thinks it did (but who even counts what Grandmère thinks, as she’s clearly unhinged): Michael really did send the CardioArm for me. ME!
Tina says I’ve got to write him back and truly make some kind of arrangement to see him in person. Because, as she just texted fromher seat:
You can’t leave Michael hanging. Hecould just be flirting with you…but I doubt it. He went to a lot of trouble to send that CardioArm…not to mention Micromini Midori along with it.
And the only way to find out what’s really going on with him is to see him in person. You’ll know when you look him in the eye whether he’s playing or for real.
This is serious, Mia: You could find yourself TORN BETWEEN TWO LOVERS!!!!
I know you’re probably really upset about this, but is it wrong that I for one find it VERY VERY EXCITING????? Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop bouncing up and down in my seat. Someone in the next row just shot me a very annoyed look, and Boris wants me to pay attention to the play now.
I’m glad someone’s happy about it, but I personally am not. I honestly don’t know how it happened. How could I, Mia Thermopolis, go from being the most boring person on the planet (except for the princess thing), who has basically never left her house for the past year and a half because she was always working on her senior project, a history on Genovian olive oil pressing, circa 1254–1650 (and, okay, it was really a historical romance novel, but so what?), to a girl who is being sought after by two highly desirable men?
Really, how????
And, according to my best friend, what I’m supposed to do about it is arrange to meet the one to whom I am not engaged-to-be-engaged….
But how can I arrange to meet Michael now, knowing my weakness for him—especially the smell of his neck—when he might possiblylike me—enough to send my country a CardioArm (and someone to teach our surgeons how to use it)?
I can’t do that to J.P. J.P. has his faults (I still can’t believe he hasn’t read my book), but he’s never met his exes behind my back (not that he has any exes, besides Lilly). He’s neverlied to me.
And admittedly, I don’t think that whole Judith Gershner thing is as big a deal now as I used to, considering it all happened before Michael and I ever went out. I never did flat out ask Michael if he’d ever been with anybody else before me, so, technically, it’s not like he actually lied.
But there is no denying the fact that that was an important piece of information that he really ought to have shared with me. People in romantic relationships really are supposed to share their sexual history with each other. Theircomplete sexual history.
Although I guess hedid share it with me. Eventually.
And I behaved with about as much maturity as a five-year-old. Just like he knew I would.
Oh, God! I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do! I need to talk this all out with someone sane—someone who isnot related to me (see previous statement re: someone sane) or who I go to school with.
Which just leaves Dr. Knutz, I think, unfortunately.
But I’m not seeing him until Friday for what will be our last appointment ever. So.
LUCKY ME!!!! I get to sit around and try to figure out what the right thing to do is on my own until then.
I guess this is how people who are eighteen and soon-to-be high school graduates deal with things.
(You know, there’s someone in this audience who looks so familiar and I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out who it is all night and it finally just hit me: It’s Sean Penn.
No wonder J.P. was acting so nervous before.
Sean Penn, his favorite director, is here in the audience for the big performance of his play,A Prince Among Men . J.P. must have told him about the show when they were talking on the boat at my birthday party. Either that, or Stacey did, since she’s been in one of Sean Penn’s movies before.
That’s awfully nice of Mr. Penn to come.)
Anyway. I know I’ve got to text Michael back. After all, I’m the one who said I wanted to meet him in person. I just left him hanging after that last text when he said that nice thing about how he did it for me and not my dad or Genovia.
But I don’t know what to say, exactly!I can’t tonight seems obvious since it’s after eight already.
On the other hand, people who’ve graduated from high school stay out really late, so maybe this wouldn’t seem obvious to him.
But Tina’s right. I do have to see him.
How about:
Hi, Michael! Tonight won’t work (obviously), and tomorrow night is Boris’s senior project (his concert at Carnegie Hall). Friday is Senior Skip Day. Are you free for lunch on Friday? Mia