Near Love Stories
by J. B. Hogan

Hays waited quietly off to the side of the hubbub and watched Lisa and the band work the die-hards, the hangers-on, the devoted followers. He patiently observed the interaction for nearly three-quarters of an hour in the hopes of talking to Lisa again but when it looked like she would never get away from those wishing to congratulate her, shake her hand, and get her autograph, he decided he had had enough good luck for one day and began to wind his way back through the theatre towards the back door that Brian, the manager, had let him in through just a couple of hours before. He was about to turn the knob on the door when a soft voice stopped him.

"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye to me?"

"Uh … I," he mumbled.

"That wasn't very nice of you," she said, affecting a stern attitude towards him.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling chastised. He looked away from Lisa, down at his shoes. When he looked up, she was smiling her sweet smile.

"I was just teasing, you know," she laughed.

"Oh," he said, feeling silly, but relieved. "Oh, my, I thought I had really screwed up."

"Well, now it's my turn to say I'm sorry," she said.

"Aah," he grunted, "no way. I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm just being dumb and sort of thickheaded."

"Do you really have to go?" she asked.

"I probably should," he answered. "You look awfully busy here. But thanks a lot. The show was terrific, as it always is. You were in great voice."

"Really?" she said. "I thought I was pretty off tonight."

"Are you kidding me?" he laughed. "Off? Not likely. I don't think that's possible."

"Well, thank you," she said, "how sweet of you to say that."

"Nothing more than the truth," he assured her.

"How kind …," she began, but was interrupted by Brian who came hustling over with a TV reporter and camera man.

"C'mon, Lisa, hon," he said breathlessly, "these folks are from the local TV station. They want to talk to you."

Whisking Lisa up, Brian maneuvered her away from Hays and over to a corner where the impromptu interview was to take place. Hays watched from afar, then prepared to leave. As he moved towards the door once more, Lisa suddenly broke from the interview and ran over to him. She produced a small card and a pen and wrote quickly on the back of the card, then handed it to Hays.

"What?" he asked, looking down at the numbers on the card.

"Call me," she mouthed silently. Hays was so shocked he didn't know what to say. "Call me," she said out loud this time, "tomorrow."

"Uh … what time?" Hays managed to stutter.

"Surprise me," she told him, "but not too early."

"No, no," Hays said to her retreating figure. "Not too early."

Lisa ran back to her interview and Hays staggered out of the theatre into the cool evening air. There were still a few showgoers out on the sidewalk but he passed them by, barely aware any other people existed on the planet.

"My, God," he said out loud, not knowing or caring if anyone heard him or not, "I can not believe this is happening to me."

Some of the young people he was walking by heard him and a couple of them even laughed at the crazy man talking to himself. But Hays didn't hear them, and it wouldn't have mattered to him if he had. He was oblivious to it all. Lisa Mason had given him her phone number and told him to call her the next day. As far as he was concerned, that made tomorrow the only thing that meant anything at all; it was the only thing that played in his head, everything else was just background noise.