Holding Her Hand

@artgrafiken · 2025-09-24 13:05 · Freewriters

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Holding Her Hand

She punched him hard in the stomach. Bill recoiled a little, after all it was a girly punch not something packing the wallop of a barroom brawler. He was more surprised than in discomfort. The surprise was justified since Peggy was his supervisor, behaving in this manner was certainly not proper employer-employee conduct.

“You son of a bitch you've put those words back in!” she snarled.

Those words, those words? He wondered what she meant...Oh! The swear words in the script! She'd told him to cut them out of the play because they might not go over in this little town, this conservative little town. Bill was directing a play, the musical Grease, scheduled for summer performances at the Clubhouse Theater. There were slang terms the characters used, some sexually suggestive, but by today's standards almost quaint. She was worried about her boss's reaction, Joseph Pellman, an authoritative and imposing superintendent of the recreation and parks staff.

Bill did an unexpected thing. He reached out and began holding her hand. It was instinct, he did not even think what he was doing. Perhaps Mother Nature interceded to help him. She had before. With the sun setting, the light slowly fading, Bill guided her away from the Clubhouse. They walked into the center of an open courtyard at the side of the building where their conversation wouldn't as likely be overheard.

“Look I wasn't trying to pull anything. I was focused on other things in the play. I didn't know this was so important. If you want them out, I'll make a point of removing them. We'll change them to less offensive words. Okay?” he said.

She was affected by his taking her hand. Her posture softened, went limp, she struggled to deal with this warmth coming from him. It was so unexpected and disarming when she didn't want to be disarmed, she wanted to really let him have it. “Oh, you're trying to placate me!” she fumed.

Years earlier another woman had been very upset with him and a similar confrontation occurred. One evening he was sitting with an actor acquaintance in his apartment. The young man was new to Hollywood and whom he was putting up until he'd found a place of his own. The phone rang. On the other end of the line he heard an angry voice, it was Francia.

“You bastard! We need to talk—Now!” she screamed. The other actor could tell by his host's jarred grimace and the thunder of the woman's voice on the other end of the line he'd been taken by surprise. Bill, smiled at him and raised his eyebrows a little.

“I'll meet you outside by the pool.” he said to her. There was a loud click on the receiver.

He opened the patio door and walked towards the swimming pool. Another door on the opposite side swung open and out strides Francia. They met.

“I heard you're letting someone else stay in your apartment. My brother's in town and he needed to stay with you!” she said.

He saw how mad and upset she was. Then he did it, reached out and started holding her hand. It happened so naturally. She was surprised at this sudden physical act, she babbled something unintelligible in reaction, her shoulders drooped, arms became like a rag doll's as though they had no volition of their own. Her movement became submissive, helpless, and endearing. She willingly let him lead her to a balcony at the far end of the patio overlooking the city lights.

“I'm sorry. I completely forgot about your brother coming. Look, this talent program I'm in is turning out to be rather an experience. I wasn't trying to dodge you or your brother. I've been a bit overwhelmed by what's going on in this class. It's so serious. They are putting us under pressure. There's this teacher, an acting coach, he has a reputation of being tough—he is, and I've become his whipping boy,” said Bill.

She stared into his eyes and he into hers. He loved her, but knew she didn't love him, at least not in the same way. She was involved with her boss at work, a married man, he was the kind she was attracted to, not Bill. Even so, at that moment he could have taken her up in his arms and kissed her deep and full. It'd happened before, an amazing kiss, one that makes you forget where you are, makes you forget time itself.

She listened to him and began to realize there were things going on she hadn't known and pretty soon she was smiling, glad he was talking with her in such an intimate yet respectful manner. She sensed his caring for her, knew his feelings, even though he had never told her he loved her, she knew. She also sensed his dismay and trouble in the situation he related. Her instincts could feel his honesty, nakedness, hiding nothing. She knew what she'd known all along or suspected: her role in his life. Her needs had not been forgotten because she was a woman of great importance to him, special to him, very special.

Though the situation was different, without the love angle, it was similar. Peggy heard him out and started to cool down. He'd agreed to take the words out of the play. What more did she want? She realized she'd behaved in an unprofessional manner. Fortunately he wasn't making an issue of it, but instead seemed truly sorry and concerned for her needs.

“Well, I'm glad we cleared the air. I was wondering why I was still hearing the actors say them.” she said. “My fault, I wasn't thinking. I'll hold a meeting, we'll rewrite those parts and get the actors to mark the changes in their script,” he replied.

Dusk gently let go turning into darkness. They began walking back to the building to join the others at rehearsal. Wondering to himself, who could he tell about this unbelievable exchange? No one, that's who. He was on his own.

Many years later Bill realized where the hand holding may have come from. He couldn't be sure, but it was possible his dad was responsible for imparting this wisdom to him. His mother and father had taken him to the state fair. After seeing all the exhibits they were on their way off the grounds when his dad thought of something he wanted to know and went up to an information booth to ask. The young girl behind the counter was distracted with another task. He wanted to get going, so he reached over, took her hand, starred into her eyes and asked the question he wanted the answer to. Returning to his family he seemed proud of himself and told them of his efficient manner in obtaining the information.

“I simply took the young lady by the hand, looked her right in the eye and asked. I knew that would get her attention and it worked.” he said.

Bill remembered registering this at the time, the act of taking a woman's hand and communicating something of importance to her. Perhaps that's the moment the seed was planted for future reference. He couldn't be sure, but it was possible.

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