APRIL 2016
"It'll be great seeing you again, Ryder. I'm looking forward to it. Till then. Bye." Blaine put his cell phone back in his pocket.
"Who was that, dear?" shouted Kurt from the kitchen of their apartment.
"That was Ryder Lynn. He's coming to New York the weekend after next to visit colleges. He wanted to know if he could meet up with me and have dinner while he's here."
"So when are you meeting?"
"Monday night before he leaves on Tuesday."
"Wait, no. You can't. We're hosting Monday night potluck that night."
"Huh? When did this happen? We normally host it the second Monday of the month, not the third."
"Kitty asked me to switch because she and Artie had to deal with a bunch of exams the following week."
"But you never told me."
"Sure I did. I mentioned it at the start of the semester when they asked me."
"That was three months ago! Did you expect me to remember?"
"I'm sorry. I forgot, okay? But can't you reschedule?"
"No, not really. He's going to be busy visiting Columbia, NYU, and a few other schools until Monday, and then he's heading back to Ohio on Tuesday. Monday night's the only time he has free."
"Fine, whatever. Enjoy your New Directions mini-reunion. Just know that I'm going to make you the scapegoat if the potluck turns into a fiasco."
AUGUST 2017
"For the last time, Hummel, the casting directors of Broadway are not conspiring against you because of your sexuality or your appearance!" shouted a clearly exasperated Santana.
"Then why do I keep getting shut out of auditions, even when I'm far more qualified than any of the other candidates? Most of the time, I'm one of the only people auditioning who's even been to a conservatory, let alone one as prestigious as NYADA." That last bit came out with as elitist a tone as one might expect from Kurt Hummel.
"Look, Kurt—" started Blaine, trying to defuse the situation. However, his best friend decided to lob a new grenade into the field of battle.
"The problem isn't your appearance, Kurt. It's your voice."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean? I've been trained at the best musical theatre program in New York. Clearly my voice is up to Broadway standards."
"You're right, it would totally be up to Broadway standards. But where are the roles you're going to sing?"
"What do you think I've been auditioning for, Sam?"
"Parts you have no business singing, Kurt. You were envious of Blaine when he got cast as Tony in West Side Story, but the truth is no casting director who knows what he or she is doing should even think about letting you sing that part."
"Oh, really, Sam? And when did you earn your Equity card? When did you become the expert in all things Broadway?"
Sam snorted in response, clearly not intimidated by Kurt's putdown attempt. "I'm not an expert in how Broadway works. But I am getting my degree in music education, and I'm working with a lot of developing voices. And the single biggest no-no of working with voices is that you never put them in roles that they're not capable of singing properly."
"I am perfectly capable of singing Tony."
"Maybe you have all the notes in your range, Kurt, but the fact is you're a countertenor, and Tony is written for a tenor. You might be able to sing the part once or twice, but night after night, it would damage your voice."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"Well, that's the problem. There just aren't enough roles for countertenor—and the folks at NYADA should have known that. I'm amazed that no one tried to steer you into the opera program. That's where the demand for countertenors is, not in musical theater."
"If I wanted to become an opera singer, there's a hundred schools I could have applied to. But I have no interest in singing opera. I want to sing on Broadway."
"I wish you the best of luck with that, Kurt. But we both know it's going to be a tough slog unless you're willing to compromise."
"Thank you for your valuable input, Mr. Evans," sneered Kurt, "but now I need to get ready for an audition." With that, he haughtily turned around and headed toward his bedroom.
Blaine exhaled slightly once he heard the door to his bedroom slam. "I don't know if it helped much, Sam, but thank you anyways for talking to him. He needs to hear it from someone other than me, even if he doesn't believe us."
"It didn't do a damn thing, and you know it, Hobbit," supplied Santana, not so helpfully. "Broadway has always been Hummel's great white whale, and he will do anything and everything to get there. He won't even care if anybody gets hurt in the process—so long as he gets there, nothing else will really matter."
Although Blaine hoped Santana was wrong in her judgment, a large part of him knew she was probably correct.
JUNE 2018
Blaine looked at his phone and saw a picture of Nightbird and Blond Chameleon filling his screen. He gleefully accepted the call: "Hey, Sammy! How are things going?"
"Hey, Blaine." Immediately Blaine heard something off in Sam's tone. He was always at least cheerful, if not downright exuberant or even audibly hyperactive. This was new, and it set off alarms in Blaine's head.
"Are you all right, Sam? Is everything OK?"
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something. Maybe more like needed."
"What is it, Sam? You know you can tell me anything."
"Well. . . ."
"BLAINE! Can you come in here?"
Blaine couldn't believe the bad luck in Kurt's timing. "Hold on a sec, Sam. Kurt, I'm on the phone with Sam! Can this wait a few minutes?"
"No, it can't. I have to deal with this right away!"
"Fine. I'll be there in a second. Hey, Sam, can I call you back in a bit?"
"Eh, it's not urgent. We can talk another night. Thanks, B. Later." The weight in Blaine's gut got a lot heavier. He headed over to where Kurt called him from their bedroom. "So what's the big emergency?"
"You have to help me pick out an outfit for tomorrow! I'm headed up to New Haven to see Quinn."
"That's your big emergency? Seriously? Sam sounded really strange, and now I'm worried about him."
"He'll be fine. He always lands on his feet. But you've got to help me—I haven't seen Quinn in ages, and I want to make a good impression."
"Okay, Kurt. What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"
"Why do you think I'm hiding something?"
"Because of your tells. Let me guess—you're auditioning up there while you're at it."
"Fine. I'm auditioning."
"For what?"
"Antony in Sweeney Todd."
"Oh my god, it literally is in one ear and out the other with you when it comes to stuff you don't want to hear."
"Blah, blah, blah, wrong vocal type. This is Sondheim we're talking about. And there's a chance of the production moving to New York."
"Unbelievable. Sam's acting weird, and this isn't going to help. I just hope I can get a hold of him."
"And what about me?"
"What about you, Kurt?"
"What should I wear?"
"Pick something comfortable. That way you won't be miserable on the train when you ride home after not getting the part because you can't sing it properly."
"That's no way to talk to me, Blaine."
"Well, maybe if you listened to the advice people give you once in a while, you wouldn't piss so many people off. Right now, I've got to reach Sam."
JUNE 2018 (The next day)
"Kurt, I have to head to Lima right now."
"Why? What has Sam done this time?"
"I don't know, Kurt. I would have found out last night, but somebody needed fashion advice for a pointless audition."
"Fine. Go be with Sam. When will you be home?"
"I don't know. It depends."
"Depends? Depends on what?"
"On how he's doing."
"And what about the start of your rehearsals for Les Misérables next week?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Kurt. Right now, I just need to get to Ohio. I'll talk to you later. Bye." He disconnected the call mindlessly, not even waiting for Kurt to say goodbye. All that was running through Blaine's head was an endless loop of the message Sam left on Blaine's phone during the night: "I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm so, so sorry." Blaine knew where the quote was from—and that Sam was telling him something vital. What was wrong, Blaine couldn't figure out, and Sam didn't say; but all he knew was that it was critical that he get to Sam as soon as he could.
SEPTEMBER 2019
"He finally said yes, Sam!"
"That's great, Blaine. But I thought you were already married. Or wait—are you renewing your vows? Can I be your best man this time?"
"No, Sam, we're not renewing vows. But there is a role I'd like you to fill."
"Oh? What's that?"
"How does Godfather sound?"
"You've made me an offer I can't refuse," said Sam, clearly doing his best Brando impersonation. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Yes! We're going to have a kid!"
"That's cool! Don't worry, Blaine! I'll be here for whatever you need. And your kid is going to be so sick of their Uncle Sam that you'll ask me not to spoil her so often!"
"Never, Sammy. You'll be the best uncle of all time—and you know I never get tired of having you around. Even if you will spoil our future kid rotten."
"So what do I need to do?"
"Just promise me you'll look after her if anything ever happens to me and Kurt."
"Heaven forbid. But I will look after him or her as if my own. I promise you that."
"Thanks, Sam. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that."
JUNE 2021
"Isn't there anybody else we can call? What about Carole?"
"She's with your dad on his reelection campaign. We can't ask her to disappear for a month during the middle of that."
"What about Mercedes? She has a sister!"
"Yeah, who's about three years younger. There's no way she'd have had much to do with raising her."
"But does it have to be Sam?"
"Well, who else is available and knows how to handle babies? Sam was already looking after Stevie and Stacie before they were even six months old. It'll be fine. Trust me."
"It's not you I'm worried about," muttered Kurt darkly.
DECEMBER 2021
"I'm sure Blaine would agree to do it if I asked him."
"So it's settled then. You'll ask Blaine to step aside as best man, and we can go ahead and confirm the booking for the wedding at our church as planned."
"Not a chance, Mr. Bedford."
"Sam! But you just said Blaine would be fine with it."
"Yes, I did, Morgan," said Sam, turning toward his fiancée. "He would do it, if I asked him to. But the thing is, I would never, ever ask him to do that for me."
"I don't see what the problem is. You're doing it to give the woman you're going to spend the rest of your life with the wedding of her dreams. Surely your friend would understand."
"The problem isn't Blaine, sir. It's me."
"What?"
"Well, what you've got to understand about Blaine is that he's been abandoned by pretty much every member of his family and just about everyone he's ever cared for. And in spite of that, he's still one of the kindest, most decent, most generous people I've ever met. And since we became friends, he's been my rock—the one person I knew I could always count on to be in my corner. No matter how bleak or desperate things got, he was always there. He's not just my best man for the wedding, he's the best man I know, period."
"That's nice, but what does that have to do with the wedding?"
"It's pretty simple, Mr. Bedford. How do I look myself in the mirror after telling my best friend that he can't be in my wedding party because my fiancée wants to hold her wedding in her family's church, and their bigoted congregation is too closed-minded to allow my best friend to be at my side where he belongs?"
"That's uncalled for!" bellowed Mr. Bedford?
"No? Then how would you explain it?"
Morgan tried to jump in to defuse the situation. "Sam, it's just that our church is very conservative. They wouldn't be very comfortable with a married homosexual standing in front of them."
"So what? If he were celibate that would be okay?"
Morgan harrumphed.
"Well, I guess I have my answer. But the fact remains, I'm not asking him to bow out. You're going to have to make a choice, Morgan. I want to give the world to you, but I'm not going to betray my dearest friend in the world to do it."
"But why should I have to give up on my dreams just so your friend can be in our wedding?"
"You don't have to give up anything, Morgan—you just need to be willing to stand up for what's right."
"But what he's doing isn't right! It's an abomination!"
"Is that what you really think, Morgan? You've met him, you've had dinner with him—heck, we've even gone to football games together. What's so awful about him?"
"I just don't think he's a good influence on you. Once you spend more time with my family and our community you'll see that?"
"Not a good influence? You're joking, right? Without his 'influence,' I'd probably be flipping burgers somewhere, if I was lucky. I'm the person I am today because of him. So tell me, how is hanging out with the cool kids at your congregation going to help me more than my best friend?"
"Don't you see? What he's doing is wicked. You shouldn't be associating with those people."
"'Those people,' Morgan?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I guess I do, but I wish I didn't."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I'm done," said Sam, getting out of his chair to face both of Mr. Bedford and his now ex-fiancée. "It means I'm not getting married to someone who thinks I should abandon my best friend just because of the person he loves. Maybe someday you'll find the person who'll stand in front of your congregation and not say a word about their bigotry. But that won't be me. Goodbye, Morgan."
APRIL 2023
Blaine had just returned to the living room after putting Finn and Sammy down for their afternoon naps when he heard the door open. Kurt burst in excitedly, clearly eager to share some big news. Blaine wasn't sure what the news was, but he had a feeling it was going to make the conversation he wanted to have a lot more challenging.
"Hi, Kurt. How was your day?"
"It was amazing! I got the most wonderful news, and I can't wait to tell you about it."
"That's great, Kurt. But there's something we need to talk about first."
Seeing Blaine's face, Kurt realized he'd have to wait a little. "What is it, Blaine?"
"Well, I wanted to talk to you about me going back to work. Now that your show is about to close, I figured it was time for me to start auditioning again."
"But this is where my news comes in," said Kurt eagerly. "I've just been cast as Cruella in a brand new musical adaptation of 101 Dalmatians. The rehearsals will start as soon as Virginia Woolf closes in June!"
"Kurt, how could you do this? We agreed that I'd spend the first two years at home, and then you'd spend the next two years with them, until they were ready for preschool!"
"I know, Blaine, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! A lead role on Broadway written for a countertenor! There's no way I could pass it up!"
"But you also shouldn't have tried to surprise me with the news like this! We should have discussed this first!"
"What's to discuss?"
"Well, what's going to happen to Finn and Sam?"
"You can stay with them, right? Or we can put them in daycare."
"And what was I doing staying at home for the last two years, if we're just going to ship them off to daycare. This isn't fair, Kurt."
"No, Blaine. What's not fair is you standing in the way of my career, just like you've always done."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm not going to sit by and play second fiddle while your career takes off. That's not what I signed up for, and that's not how things are going to be. I've accepted the part, and that's it. Discussion over." With that, he strode out of the apartment into the Manhattan afternoon. And deep down, Blaine knew that his relationship with Kurt had just become a lot more treacherous than it had been just a few days before.