Page 116 of The Frog Prince

*

Kid Fest 2is a success. The event, “A Day at the Movies,” works. It’s not what it was before, but in some ways it’s better.

I wasn’t sure the kids would getThe Blob, and even less sure the chaperones would approve of the film, but there were no complaints as the kids and adults settled into their seats with drinks and tubs of buttered popcorn.

After the film, Chaz, one of the graduate film students, a tough-looking twenty-something-year-old who dresses like a gangster rapper, got up in the front of the theater with the microphone and began to speak.

Chaz told the kids he grew up on Potrero Hill, spent most of his life in and out of bad situations and foster care, but was now a graduate student on a full film scholarship at University of California in San Francisco. He made movies because he had something to say. The kids all leaned forward, listening hard. Movies give you a voice, Chaz said. It’s about being heard, making your thoughts known, standing up and being counted in life.

The next filmmaker, a slim, pretty, and very intense Latina, talked to the kids about how many independent films were made today, demonstrating how she and Chaz used nothing fancier than a video camera to shoot their films, and then explained how they edited and did special effects on a computer at the campus, though lots of filmmakers edited at home. Today’s technology and software, she told them, allows everyone to be filmmakers.

Then Chaz asked the kids how many of them would like to make movies, and nearly every kid in the audience raised his or her hand. When Chaz suggested the kids break up into groups and brainstorm story ideas for their movies, the kids were wildly, hugely enthusiastic. They broke into groups, sitting on stairs and the carpet in the balcony, and began to chatter, outlining their ideas and dreaming big.

I stand at the side near one of the velvet curtains, and I can see Brian. He’s crouching next to one of the small groups, listening to the kids talk.

This is good, I think, crossing my arms, holding the happiness in. This is good, what we did today. All we have to do is open the door to possibility, and incredible, hopeful things can take place.

*

Kid Fest 2ends, and the kids leave, filling their buses and vans, and I’ve shaken hands and hugged little people, and even hugged some of the big people who were so angry with me three weeks ago.

I’ve drained my savings to make today happen, but it’s okay. I’m glad. I needed to do this, needed to try to put things right.

Brian’s still waiting for me as the theater goes dark and the last of the kids have gone.

“What now?” he asks as we head outside into the late afternoon sunshine. We both have cars, and we stand on the pavement facing each other.

“Meet me for dinner later,” I suggest.

His brow furrows. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“Where?”

I think of special places, places with good menus, great cocktails, cool ambience. “Balboa Café.”

“That’s pretty spendy.”

I feel as if I’d swallowed a big soap bubble. I feel intensely happy. “Yeah. I know.” I pull my car keys from my purse. “But maybe you’re worth it.”

The corner of his mouth slowly tilts, a crooked smile, very dry, very cute. His eyes are a pale blue, like the color of faded denim. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” I turn, head for my car, but glance back at him over my shoulder. I’m smiling big. “Seven o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” he says.

“I’ll be waiting.”

*

On my wayhome I call Balboa Café, make reservations for two at seven. The hostess tells me I’m extremely lucky, that they’ve only just had a cancellation for that evening; otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to squeeze us in.

I feel lucky, too, and I drive home with my window down, singing far more loudly in my car than I should.

In Cow Hollow I find a parking spot just steps from my doorway—Iamlucky!—and climbing the stairs to my apartment, I try to figure out what I’ll wear to dinner. I wish I had something new to wear, something pretty and fun, but it’s been ages since I went shopping, and now that I’ve wiped out my savings account to put on Kid Fest2, I won’t be doing any shopping anytime soon.

I’m standing in front of my closet when the phone rings. “Hello?” I answer, still staring at my pathetic wardrobe.