AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Once I got to school, it felt less urgent. I was only at home with my mom in the summer and winter breaks, and I didn’t go home for every breakup if my grandma was there. Maybe once or twice during the school year, and so it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Even now, the idea of going to a group support therapy thing doesn’t sound all that appealing. Telling Jessie was one thing—I’ve known and loved her for years. But these strangers don’t know me, and while everyone at Al-Anon was lovely, I don’t know if I’m ready to start spilling my guts to a group.
And more than that, I’m angry that I have to be the one to go get help; that I’m the one looking at a support group while my mom gets to continue to make poor life choices. I’m the one who has to take the time and energy to get help.
But I don’t know how to explain all of that.
“I’m just . . . really tired of being the adult,” I say instead.
She gives me a tight, empathetic smile.
“How are you a responsible person all the time? Aren’t you tired?” I ask.
“Exhausted,” she says with a smirk. She knows I’m shifting the tone of the conversation—that I’m pushing us to familiar ground. She goes without a fight.
“Hey. You love our dynamic. Me, the wild child. You, the responsible rule-follower,” I say.
“I was born to be the Mom Friend.”
“You’re doing a damn good job. Now, can I have a snack?”
“Sure, sweetie. Let me check my purse.”
My heart feels too big for my chest, like any moment it could crack open and the contents of it—gratitude and deep love for my friend—might burst all over us, covering us and the room in nineties-TV-style slime.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you everything,” I say.
“You don’t ever have to apologize for protecting yourself.”
I open one of my hands between us, and she puts her hand in mine. And then, like a thief that thinks I won’t notice its presence, sadness sneaks in. This time, instead of banishing it like I always do, I embrace it.
22
IAN
“. . . reason and love keep little company together nowadays.”Act III, Scene I
In all my years of walking into the theater for a show, this is my first as an actor. I expected to dread this day more than I do. To my surprise, I haven’t felt an ounce of dread. A healthy dose of nerves, sure, but not the “couldn’t sleep last night for fear of being on stage” kind of worry. I slept like a log last night.
It might have something to do with seeing Jade again. She’s been busy since we got back from her mom’s house, and she seems distracted, but what theater kid isn’t half-zombie for tech and final rehearsals?
Part of me is nervous that the show being over means Jade and I might be over, but after the experience we had at her mom’s house, I’m not as worried about it. There’s something more here than just two actors building chemistry for a show. And maybe performing tonight, the one thing I thought I had nocourage for, might give me the courage I need to tell Jade how I really feel. To her not-sleeping face.
Jade is already in the dressing room when I arrive, her hair in big curlers, applying what looks like the final touches to her makeup.
“Hey,” I say and lean in toward her to give her a quick peck. She leans away and gestures to the other people in the room with a pointed look.
“Makeup,” she says. “And . . .” Her eyes dart toward the other people.
The sting of rejection is quick and sharp, like an actual wasp has stabbed me. I give her space and try to be understanding, but something about it seems odd.
As I change into costume, the look on her face when I leaned in to kiss her replays in my mind. Any nerves I have about the play are replaced with nerves about why Jade wouldn’t kiss me. She isn’t really the type to care about public displays of affection, and although the theater department is a gossip mill, Jade is also not the type to care about that. So why use that as the reason not to kiss me?
When I rejoin her in the dressing room, I take the open seat next to her to style my hair. I’m about to ask her about it when Anastasia shows up.
“Don’t you two look just perfect?” she says, clapping her hands together as she saunters into the dressing room. “I just came to wish you all the broken legs, and to tell you that you’re absolutely going to smash it out there. I don’t know what you two did, but your chemistry is perfect, and I could not be more proud of both of you.”
“Thanks, Anastasia,” Jade says. “Hey, I’m gonna grab my costume, but I’ll meet you backstage to check props.” She says this to me and darts out of the room before Anastasia can say anything else.
I’m about to follow her when Anastasia lays a hand on my arm.
