"Damn it!" I yell, as I swing my legs over the edge of the rail and bolt for the street. I run my arm across my face to wipe away any errant signs of tears, while simultaneously flagging down a taxi. I throw myself in the back of the cab, nearly yelling the name of the theater at the driver as I slam the door shut. I'm lucky to have gotten a cab so quickly, but I wasted a lot of time arguing with myself. Deciding if I should do it...deciding if I even could do it.
I reach into my coat pocket for my cell phone to check the time, but my cold, numb hands only grasp at fabric. I bite back a groan of frustration and hold back my clenched fist from slamming into the ratty fabric of the back seat. I take a deep breath through my nose and try to unclench my teeth before speaking to the cab driver.
"What time is it?" I ask, and despite my attempts to calm down, my voice sounds strained and sharp.
When the driver replies, I feel my stomach sink. The show should have started a half hour ago. I'm going to be too late. I'm already too late.
Suddenly, the air in the cab feels thick and the space seems too small. Too confined. The heat is blasting and I can feel pinpricks of sweat starting to bead on my forehead. My stomach rolls and it feels like the cab is rocking back and forth like were driving over waves and not pavement. My vision swims and I brace one arm against the door in an attempt to get my bearings. I lean my head back against the headrest, close my eyes, and try to only focus on breathing.
"You better not get sick in my cab, kid. I ain't dealing with that shit again," the driver sneers from the front seat, and I feel the car slowing.
"I'm fine..." I manage to gasp out. "Just keep driving."
The cabbie snorts, but speeds up and pulls back onto the road. I reign in my panic a little and try my best to look like I'm okay. I don't have time to find another cab. I'm hoping that the show was stalled some, since it was supposed to be canceled anyway. I'm hoping that Karen believed in me enough to hold everyone off so that I could have a chance.
After what feels like an eternity, the cab pulls over in front of the theater and I throw a random wad of bills at the cab driver. I tell him to keep the change as I jump out, but truthfully I'm not even sure if there's enough money there to cover the fare in the first place. When I burst through the theater's entrance and all I hear is the monotone sound of a bunch of people talking, my legs feel shaky with relief and I have to support myself with the wall. They haven't started yet. I'm not too late.
I can see that everyone in the theater has taken their seats and chairs are being placed on the stage. The show would be starting any minute now.
I pull myself away from the wall and start to head towards the backstage entrance, when my stomach clenches and instead I find myself turning into the men's bathroom. I immediately fall to my knees in the nearest toilet stall and start retching. My arms are shaking as I brace them against the cool metal of the stall, trying to keep myself from collapsing into a useless puddle on the floor. My body spasms a few more times before I finally calm down enough to take a full breath. Once I retain some semblance of calm, I immediately strip off my winter clothing, since my whole body feels flushed with nauseating heat. I don't even bother to pick up my clothing from the bathroom floor as I lock my hands around the cold porcelain of the sink and lean my head against the mirror.
I know I don't have much time, but there's no way I can perform like this. I have to calm down. After a few more deep breaths, I turn the sink on high and splash cold water onto my face before washing my mouth out. My throat feels tight and raw, but I'm afraid I'll start gagging again if I drink anything so I go without. I grab a paper towel and dry my face off and that's when I hear it. Music. Music and Karen's voice.
Before I even know what I'm doing I'm out of the bathroom and running into the theater.
"Don't!" I yell, and I'm not even sure what I mean. Don't sing the song, don't do the show, don't start without me...or just don't. Don't die, don't let this be how it all ends.
Kyle.
Everyone stops and stares at me, but I don't care as I jump on stage next to Karen.
I tell her I want to do the song, like it was meant to be done. She nods and tells the cast. Immediately, they all take their positions. Someone puts a guitar in my hands and I start to strum the first chords. The room is full of people, but as I start to sing they all disappear. All I see is Kyle standing in front me, standing by my side for so many years. It was Kyle who saved me from my brother. Kyle, who helped me get clean and start a new life. Kyle, who believed in this show when we were just two kids nobody even knew existed.
It was also Kyle who put up with all my shit. He always took the brunt of my anger and lashing out, but he was always so reasonable about everything. He was the only person who didn't look at me like I was just a deadbeat punk and the only person who truly wanted to know if I was okay. He was the only person who ever wanted to help me and always stuck by me. We told each other everything.
And now he's gone.
My voice shoots up an octave as I start in on the second verse and I try to keep it steady. My legs are shaking and I sit on the stairs, even though I know it's not my mark. I'm sure that even Derek won't mind my behavior this time. As I continue singing, my mind starts to race through all the horrible things I've done to Kyle, especially in the last few days. I can't believe that the last thing I said to him was all that I deserved more credit for writing Hit List than he did. I was so hurt and angry and high that night, that I didn't even know what I was saying or why. Now I can't fix it. He's not going to come and find me in that annoying way he does, how he always seems to know exactly where I'll end up. I'm not ever going to be able to apologize for the things I said or all the shit that I put him through. I'll never get a chance to tell him that he was like family to me, a brother and a best friend. I'll never get to tell him how much he saved me just by being there. Why didn't I ever say anything before?
I'm nearing the end of the song now and tears are pricking my eyes and my voice is wavering. I desperately try to hold back the tears and finish the song.
"I'm sorry...is the word I want to sing to you. The other word is...stay-" my voice cracks and I take a shaky breath before continuing. "to hear the love I meant...to say."
The music stops and the lights dim as I get the last note out. There's only stunned silence in the theater, but my ears are ringing and I know I need to get off stage. I'm up and backstage in the dressing room before I can even process moving. My breath is coming in gasps and I can feel tears falling down my face as I slide down the wall. I cover my face with my hands, as a single sob escapes me. Just as quickly though, I'm up off the floor, my hands locked behind my head as I stare at the ceiling while I pace the small area. I still have a show to do. I can fall apart later.
"Jimmy? Are you all right?"
I turn at the sound of a familiar voice and see Karen standing in the doorway. The sadness and concern in her face makes me want to pull her to me, but I know I can't just yet.
"You were amazing out there," Karen starts, glancing down at the ground before looking back at me. I just keep pacing.
"Kyle...Kyle would have been proud." I notice Karen wiping a few tears away with the back of her sleeve, and I wish she hadn't said his name because it kills me.
Karen steps forward and reaches out, her thin hand grasping my upper arm, stopping me from pacing. I suck in a quick breath at the contact. Even under these circumstances, her touch sends electricity through my skin. She starts to pull me into a hug and I immediately push her way, causing her to stumble a few steps backward in the process.
Her eyes go wide and I want to scream at myself for being so idiotic.
"Sorry. Sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to be so rough. It's just...I want to get through the show. If you try to comfort me now, especially after that song, I don't think I'll make it to the next song let alone the last."
She just nods and I can see understanding light her eyes. "I'll tell Derek to hold everyone for five minutes."
I'm only able to nod my gratitude. I really don't deserve her.
The rest of the performance goes relatively smooth and I'll admit it does feel cathartic in a way. Even though I try my best to not think about Kyle during each song, I feel so wound up by everything that just being on stage helps to release some the edginess and grief that's keeping my body taut. However, when the last song comes up, the encore of "The Love I Meant to Say," I tell everyone I can't do it again. Everyone just nods and I get a few pats on the shoulder as Sam and Karen walk onstage to wrap up the show. I can't even stand to watch, so I head backstage and sit in my old wardrobe station. When I look into the dusty mirror, I swear I see Kyle standing behind. I swear I hear his voice teasing me about the stage make-up.
When I turn around though, no ones there. And when I look back in the mirror, all I see is my pale, exhausted face staring back at me. My eyes ringed with exhaustion and slightly swollen from the tears I've shed today. Suddenly, everything crashes into me at once all over again. Kyle's actually dead. He's never coming back. It's my fault. The tears I've been holding back during the performance become to hard to control. I prop my elbows up on the table and hide my face in my hands and cry like I've never cried before. Each sob feels like a knife slashing through my insides, tearing up my throat and strangling me on the way out. I don't know how I'll ever learn to cope with this. I don't know how I'm supposed to move on.
I tense when I feel someone put there hand on my back, but I don't bother looking at them. I don't even have the strength to turn my head right now and I'm hoping they'll just leave me alone.
"He was a good kid. Talented too. He really could've been a big Broadway name someday."
Even though the British accent gives him away, my mind still can't process that it's Derek trying to comfort me. I attempt a weak nod, without removing my head from my hands, since I still can't seem to control the torrent of grief. Under normal circumstances, I'd probably feel incredibly humiliated to have Derek be the one to see me break down, but I'm in too much pain to care right now.
He pats my back a few times, before gripping my shoulder tightly. "He'd want this. Kyle would want this show to continue. Kyle would want this show to be all it can be. He'd want Broadway. No, he deserves Broadway."
I finally pull my hands away and look over my shoulder at Derek. I can tell that Derek is struggling with this too and I'm almost surprised, but then I remember Kyle and how genuine he was. It's not that surprising that even someone as cold-hearted as Derek would be drawn to him.
"I know," I say, my voice sounding rough.
I want to say more, to tell him that I should be the lead in the show, but I'm not even sure about that anymore. I'm a messed up asshole and I don't even trust myself to not screw it up. I need to get my shit together, so I don't bring the show - and everyone - down with me.
Derek nods and squeezes my shoulder before releasing me. "The cast is about to do curtain call. You're welcome to join them."
I wipe my eyes again and avoid looking at myself in the mirror as I join everyone on stage and take a bow to wild applause, but I don't feel anything. My whole world feels disconnected, like I'm watching everything through someone else's eyes. When the cast gets the news that Hit List is going to Broadway this season, everyone except me and Kyle's old boyfriend, cheers. We lock eyes for a moment and he gives me a sad half-smile of acknowledgement. I give him a slight nod in return, though I don't know him very well, I feel like we have some kind of understanding at this moment. Broadway is great, but Kyle isn't here.
When we all gather outside to dim the lights in a tribute to Kyle, I decide something. I'm not going to be the person I've been these last few months. I'm going to give up the drugs, give up everything, even alcohol, in order to get myself together. I turn down the celebratory drink as my first move at fixing myself, but even my new resolve doesn't shake the grief and swirling emotions inside me. Karen asks me to hang out with her and I know she just doesn't want me to be alone. I try to think of some way to turn her down, but it all just comes out sounding like weak and pathetic excuses. Luckily, I'm saved from further conversation as everyone walks to the other side of the street to watch the building's lights dim.
As the lights go down, I bite the inside of my lip hard enough that I taste blood in an effort to not break down in the middle of the sidewalk. A tear leaks out and I quickly wipe it away, hoping no one saw. I really just want to be alone, though I have no idea where I'll go. I'll be too tempted to use if I go back to my brother's tonight, which means I won't even be able to get my stuff. And if I go to Kyle's-
I stop the thought before it can even occur. There's no way I could stay at Kyle's place, surrounded by all his stuff, knowing he's never going to come home.
I don't even realize that the lights are back up and everyone has dispersed until I feel a soft touch on my arm.
"Are you sure you don't want to do something tonight?" Karen asks, her voice soft. "We can do anything you want, we can even just-"
"It's okay, Karen," I interrupt. "I think I just need to be alone for a while. I'll be fine, promise." I attempt to give her my cocky smile, but I'm not sure she buys it.
"I don't think you should be alone right now, Jimmy."
"I won't do anything stupid. Promise."
I smile at her again, as I start to back away, heading down the street.
She sighs and I can see the worry in her eyes. "Okay, but will you call me later so I know you're okay?"
"Yes," I reply, though I'm still not sure where my cell phone is.
"You can call me at anytime and if you need anything. Even if you just want to talk."
"Thanks," I say, though I really just want to run far away from here.
She nods and seemingly satisfied, crosses the street and heads back into the theater where the rest of the cast and crew are waiting. The street suddenly feels empty as I turn my back on the theater, I feel more alone than I ever have in my life. There's an itch under my skin and I know there's only one thing that will satisfy it. My mind fills with the imagined wonders of alcohol and white powder. The drugs could take away this pain or at least take the edge off. My fist clench, but this time it's with need and desire. I keep walking and try to keep myself away from the areas where I used to score. I tell myself that I'm stronger than the drugs. That I need to be stronger for Kyle, but the need is still coursing though my blood.
Changing might be harder than I thought.