Ash stood several feet behind the gaggle of high school girls fawning over their Commencement speaker. As members of the graduation planning committee, the dozen or so girls, were selected for the honor and privilege of meeting privately with the television celebrity prior to the publicly scheduled events.
"TV star, my ass!" Ash muttered under her breath, "Kiddie TV! Public Television Kiddie TV! That ain't even TV."
"Mrs. Pretty, we the members of Commencement Committee 2005, welcome you to Benjamin Franklin High School," MaryEllen Stone announced with a great deal of flair. "We set up this room to be your sanctuary during your stay with us. There's a private bathroom and a buffet table and several comfortable chairs for your…well, uhm,…I guess, comfort," she finished with a giggle.
All of the other girls giggled too. Except Ash. She was frowning. Ash was use to frowning. She got a lot of practice at it over the years. These last four years in particular. At this point, she was a world class frowner by any measure.
However, she was also a hard worker. Work made sense to her. Work made her feel better. It made her feel whole. The empty spot in her heart that ached at all other times seemed to hurt less when Ash had work to do. And, getting the backstage set for a TV star was work indeed.
Ash got to the school several hours before dawn. Jose, the maintenance guy, let her in. She spent most of the very early morning converting the Theatre Arts Wardrobe Room into a 'green room' for the famous commencement speaker; Mrs. Pretty. Ash scraped hardened make up off the furniture and floor. Scrubbed the bathroom. Then searched around the prop room and found the most solid chairs. She set them in an informal arrangement like she had seen in a magazine about colleges. Ash brought several old sheets which she had spent the previous weekend bleaching over and over and used them as coverlets. Once she finished stapling them in place, Ash raced to the corner coffee shop to get the coffee, tea, and muffins for the buffet table. Mr. Deming, the manager and Ash's weekend boss, cut her a deal on the spread but it meant she'd have to do the transport herself. Which she did against a racing clock.
"And, MaryEllen takes all the credit." Ash grumbled to herself. "Like always."
Mrs. Pretty, in an immaculately tailored suit and perfectly coiffured hair, stood in the center of the group of girls. She seemed to be very happy to be chatting with them. None of the inane prattle seemed to bother her one way or another. At one elbow, the Principle, Mr. Howe, stood beaming. Ash could tell he was very pleased with himself.
"Must be running for school committee," She thought to herself. "Bet he'll remind everybody that he got the hometown 'celeb' to come speak at commencement. Voters will love that."
A tall, thin, balding man with wire frame glasses stood at Mrs. Pretty's other elbow. He was dressed in a very expensive silk suit and carried a large black briefcase. He scanned the students several times before turning his attention to the rest of the room. When he made eye contact with Ash, his lips went into a hard line.
"Uh oh, looks like trouble," Ash thought to herself and took a double take at her filthy jeans and t-shirt. "He probably wants me out of the way," she decided.
Ash turned to leave as the girls and Mrs. Pretty assembled to have their pictures taken.
"Excuse me, Miss, if you wouldn't mind," the tall, thin, balding man with wire frame glasses caught Ash by the elbow. When the girl flinched, he removed his hand immediately, "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to harm you. I was only trying to get your attention."
Ash shrugged him off with a toss of her dirty blonde hair and a glare, "You got it."
"I intended no harm to you. Please accept my apologies if I caused offense. It's just that Mrs. Pretty would like to get pictures with all the people who worked on the planning committee. If you could wait for a few more minutes…,"
"Ah, there's no need, Mr. Elmwood. Ash isn't part of our commencement exercise," Mr. Howe rushed over to explain.
"The young lady is here," Mr. Elmwood noted.
"Well, yes. Ash was part of the class of '05 but she declined to participate in the ceremony," Mr. Howe explained. "She's eighteen. She signed the waiver. Her documents will be mailed to her after today's commencement."
Mr. Elmwood raised an eyebrow and asked, "I see, but then why is she here?"
Mr. Howe's pale expression got a bit paler. Ash smirked at the look on the man's face. She wondered if the million and one freckles splashed across his skin would start to glow as red as his hair if his face got white enough.
"We needed somebody to operate the microphones and the curtains. Ash is an adequate stage hand," Mr. Howe straightened his tie as if it were becoming a bit more snug.
"Then she is part of the committee." Mr. Elmwood was satisfied with the explanation and turned his back on Mr. Howe. "Ms. Ash, Mrs. Pretty would very much like everybody to be included in the pictures. I assure you, these are not for the public. Mrs. Pretty keeps a private photo album for each of her life's events…"
"…And, it would be incomplete without all the committee members," Mrs. Pretty stepped into the conversation. "Please, let me introduce myself, I'm Mrs. Pretty."
Ash observed the extended hand with the professionally manicured finger nails. She wasn't quite sure what to do. Nobody had ever offered to shake her hand before. Hesitantly, Ash reached out to accept the offering. She cringed when she saw all the dirt and grime coating her palm and fingers. Mrs. Pretty grasped her hand none the less.
"Ash," the girl's voice cracked and she winced at the chink in her defenses. "My name is Ash."
"A pleasure to meet you Ms. Ash," Mrs. Pretty gave a warm reply and a firm shake.
"Look, maybe you don't understand," Mr. Howe continued to play with his tie. "Ash is the stage hand. She's only technical support. She declined her invitation to attend the ceremony. Mrs. Pretty, the other girls…,"
"…the other girls have all had a picture with me and a conversation. Now, Ms. Ash and I are going to do the same," Mrs. Pretty quickly replied. "As I say on the show, 'always play fair no matter what bullies dare.' So Mr. Elmwood, would you snap us a picture or two?"
"I don't have a camera," Ash admitted with a great deal of embarrassment. She saw all the other girls brought very expensive, very tiny digital cameras.
"I always bring an extra, disposable camera, just in case," Mrs. Pretty winked as she motioned to Mr. Elmwood. "You never know when a 'perfect opportunity' for a photograph will appear."
Mrs. Pretty used her catch phrase and the gaggle of girls behind her burst into applause. A 'perfect opportunity' was the focal theme of 'Mrs. Pretty's Time to Shine.' She would announce during each show, when the lesson was to be learned; 'now is the perfect opportunity to…grow or give or laugh or play or jump…'
"...or to hold the class freak up for everybody to get one last good fucking laugh at," Ash thought to herself.
She could feel her face go red. People were staring at her. This stranger in the pricey suit was making a fuss over her. And, Mr. Howe was glaring at her. That couldn't be good. After Mrs. Pretty headed back to her TV show, Ash was sure Mr. Howe would cause Ash more trouble than usual. The ground swell of emotion in her chest broke free and Ash panicked. Panic was something she did almost as well as frowning.
"Can't you just let it go? Can't you just let me get out of here? There ain't nobody that wants a fucking picture of me anyway!" Ash shouted. "Oh fucking fucker right out of fuckville, what did I do?!" Ash silently asked herself as the room went still.
"That's it, you little delinquent!" Mr. Howe's face went all red but he had a small grin on his lips, "I'm calling your parole officer first thing Monday morning. I'll bet he'll be more than a little interested in your disruption of school activities yet again."
"Mr. Howe, I'm sure an officer of the court has more pressing issues than a curse word or two." Mrs. Pretty replied coolly. "Really, this is the United States. We still have free speech rights. I think, Benjamin Franklin would insist on it," The room erupted in a tense round of laughter. "And Mr. Howe, it wasn't very nice of you to discuss private student information in public," Mrs. Pretty reprimanded. Then she warned, "However, Ms. Ash, the use of the words 'ain't' and 'fucking' in the sentence were entirely superfluous." Mrs. Pretty stepped closer and softened her voice, "The content was enough to carry all the emotional impact the listener would need to understand."
Ash swallowed hard. Ash had been yelled at by a lot of people over the years without obvious effect. However, Mrs. Pretty's comment struck a very sensitive cord. Ash was left fighting back tears that came from deep down inside. A place she thought she closed down long ago.
A flustered Mr. Howe decided to try a different approach with his famous but difficult guest, "Mrs. Pretty, you also have the Meet and Greet with the Board of Trustees which is starting now."
"Oh, no Mr. Howe. My contract is very specific about my obligations. Mrs. Pretty is not impressed with dignitaries. 'Plain and simple, simply plain is the name of my game.' Mr. Elmwood, would you please explain the finer points of my contract to Mr. Howe," Mrs. Pretty dismissed the man to Mr. Elmwood's care. "And ladies of the Committee, if you could give me a few minutes to prepare, I would be entirely grateful."
The Committee members graciously but hesitantly departed. Mr. Howe required the firm hand of Mr. Elmwood at his elbow to start his walk to the door. The only one anxious to leave was Ash. She went to step around Mrs. Pretty but a soft voice stopped her.
"Wait please," Mrs. Pretty requested quietly.
Ash glanced between the woman standing in front of her and Mr. Elmwood. He was the last one out and he closed the door behind him. Ash was starting to sweat. What did this woman want from her? Hadn't she been embarrassed enough today?
"Would you be a dear and get me a cup of tea?" Mrs. Pretty asked sweetly before sitting herself in a nearby chair.
Ash frowned and thought to herself, "Just like the rest. Wants me to wait on her hand and foot. Fine! It's either wait on her or wait on the rest of 'em. Might as well stay put for now."
"Cream, sugar?" Ash mumbled.
"Neither, thank you."
Ash poured the hot water in the cup and grabbed a tea bag. As she was handing the tea to Mrs. Pretty, she noticed the dirty finger prints she left on the outside of the cup. Her frown deepened.
"Now, have a seat and we'll have our conversation," Mrs. Pretty waved to the chair next to her.
"What about?" Ash remained standing.
"You have a question for me. I can see it in your eyes. So, ask away. This is your chance," Mrs. Pretty winked.
"Okay." Ash shrugged figuring it was better than standing around waiting for Mr. Howe to catch her doing something wrong. "Where'd you get such a stupid name?"
"I married him!" Mrs. Pretty grinned as she replied.
Ash smirked. "Poor guy. Does he get a lot of fag jokes?" As the echo of her words hit her, Ash sunk into the chair Mrs. Pretty originally pointed to. Her mind raced, "What's wrong with me. Why do I say such damn, stupid shit all the time?"
"No, I think the sight of his gun stops most of the jokes," Mrs. Pretty answered completely unfazed by the question.
Ash felt her stomach flip over several times. "Oh God! He's a cop? Is he a cop?"
"Yes."
Ash felt tears sting her eyes, "I didn't mean to disrespect…,"
"Don't be silly, dear," Mrs. Pretty waved her hand like the magic wand she used on her show. "We laugh about the name all the time at my house. It's good to laugh."
Ash nodded agreement but still doubted the woman was sincere.
"Ms. Ash, why aren't you attending your graduation exercise?" Mrs. Pretty asked as she sipped her tea.
"What's the point? Nobody cares about stupid high school graduations anyway."
"I care. You should care," Mrs. Pretty spoke softly. "What about your parole officer? Isn't he interested?"
Ash answered honestly, "I'm not a bad ass. He's not a parole officer. He's only a social worker. And, Donny's been okay to me."
"Donny Inglis?" Mrs. Pretty asked.
"Yeah. You know him?"
"Oh, he's a love. He did an internship on my show. My husband works with him time and again with some of the summer youth programs."
"His wife's having a baby," Ash blurted out. She'd never had a strictly social conversation with an adult before and she felt the excitement of a friendly connection.
"I know! Isn't it great? They are a sweet couple. Have you met his Angie?" Mrs. Pretty asked.
"Yeah, a couple times a summer she has a picnic for us, you know, his cases. In December, she makes a special Christmas dinner for us at their house. She's a real good cook," Ash felt like she was babbling.
Mrs. Pretty smiled and said, "Donny and Angie sound like they care about you."
"I guess, I don't know. Donny's helping me get into a half way house next weekend 'cause my times up at the group home," Ash shrugged. "I mailed him all the paperwork that I graduated."
"Did you talk to him about coming to the ceremony?"
"Why would he want to come? He's got a life," Ash couldn't meet the woman's intense gaze.
"Well, he is giving up next weekend to move you. It sounds to me like he would, at the very least, be interested."
"He doesn't have to be interested," Ash blurted out by way of explanation. "The government pays him to be interested Monday to Friday, 9 am to 5 pm. He doesn't need to spend his time off thinking about people like me."
"People like you?" Mrs. Pretty asked.
"Yeah, people like me! My own mother doesn't care what happens to me. Why should anybody else give a rat's ass? Mom told the judge she didn't want me. She said, I was ink…, incur…, …,?"
"Incorrigible?"
Ash gave a half grin. "Yep. That's the word. I'm incorrigible; whatever that means. My mother wouldn't put up with me so why should anybody else?" Ash asked.
Mrs. Pretty asked with a gentle tone of voice, "How old were you when your mother said such a thing?"
"Five or six. Maybe seven. Who cares? I've been in foster care or group homes ever since," Ash answered with squared shoulders. "Nobody should care about me. I'm nothing. Can't you see that? There's nothing worth thinking about here." Ash pointed to herself as she spoke what she believed was the truth.
Several moments of silence passed before Mrs. Pretty replied. "You know, I really could use a few minutes of quiet time before this shindig gets start. Would you mind?"
Ash was relieved when the woman motioned her to the door. Freedom. Ash raced to the familiar comfort of the dark shadows behind the curtains. Anonymous, again, at last.
* * *
The auditorium filled with cheers and applause as Mrs. Pretty approached the podium forty five minutes into the ceremony. Ash was noting the start times for each segment of the event against the rough draft she pulled together during rehearsal.
"Twenty minutes behind schedule," she mumbled to herself as she checked the clock on the wall. "If Mrs. Pretty's speech takes more than thirty minutes then a bunch of folks are gonna miss their dinner reservations." Ash felt a pang of envy at the thought of happy families enjoying their celebration together.
"Ladies and gentlemen, faculty, and seniors, thank you for inviting me to your special day," Mrs. Pretty began when the applause ended. "It is an honor to be here tonight. I…, I…, uhm…, I want…, to uhm…,"
Ash's head snapped up. She checked the microphone levels to make sure Mrs. Pretty's current dilemma wasn't technical. All the indicators were flashing in the normal range. Coughs went up around the auditorium at the sudden and awkward silence.
"You know, I had a speech all typed up neatly. It's right here in front of me," she pointed to the podium. "I worked very hard to prepare it. It says wonderful things about your achievements and what the future holds for all of you. And, well I'm not going to read it."
Mrs. Pretty bunched the pages in a ball and tossed them into the wings. There was a little gasp from the audience.
"Instead, I'm going to share with you a perfect opportunity to gain wisdom. Just like the one I had today. I was fortunate enough to meet somebody who helped me see, I could not do this commencement speech if I was all alone. Without the support of my husband and my expectant daughter and my son-in-law-lawyer, I would not have the courage to walk out on this stage and speak to all of you. If I thought, for even a moment, I would look out into a sea of faces and not see at least one familiar smile then I would run as fast as I could to get away from here. How many of us are brave enough to face an audience of strangers alone? How many of us are brave enough to face the world alone? A better question is, should any of us have to face the world alone? Or, perhaps the best question of all, why do we leave people to face the world alone? As a society, we isolate. We discriminate. We ostracize. We alienate. And, worst of all, we wholly, totally, entirely, completely ignore. Shame on us."
The auditorium was deathly still. No coughs. No shuffling papers. No shifting in seats.
"I want to try to reset our collective course a bit tonight. Let's see if we can steer the future of the class of 2005 toward inclusion. An embracing of the full spectrum of humanity. Let us embark, as a community, on a celebration of the individual. To that end, let me begin the process. I'm going to seize the moment and take the liberty to bestow the first diploma to the Class of 2005. If Ms. Ash would do me the honor of sharing the stage?"
Ash started to back up as Mrs. Pretty turned her way. She wanted to run. But, there it was again. That extended well manicured hand. Ash felt compelled to accept the offering. She stepped out on stage to a room of deafening silence. Mrs. Pretty removed her ceremonial cap and gown and placed them on Ash. She gave the young woman a reassuring shoulder squeeze before letting go.
"Ms. Lindsey Lee Ash, in acknowledgement and humble recognition of your academic achievements, contributions to Graduation 2005, and ongoing efforts to succeed against seemingly impossible odds I'm proud to present to you, your High School Diploma." Mrs. Pretty handed Ash the lime green plastic diploma folder and shook Ash's hand firmly to scattered applause in the otherwise stunned crowd.
Ash turned her head toward the audience. She saw Donny standing and clapping wildly. Angie was at his side clapping as well. Off to the far wall, was a police officer alternating between slapping his hands together and whistling cat calls. Next to him stood a very pregnant young woman whopping and screaming support. And, next to her stood clapping, the tall, thin, balding man with wire frame glasses, Mr. Elmwood. He had a huge grin on his face. Back by the rear doors, Ash could make out the short and heavy figure of Mr. Deming. Between his fierce applause, he would pause to wipe his eyes and nose with a white handkerchief.
"Now, let's get that picture!" Mrs. Pretty whispered in Ash's ear as the photographer moved into place. "I want a lasting reminder of you standing at the head of your class, Lindsey. You earned the right to be up front."
The End.