Chapter Thirteen “A Very Complicated Woman”

thirteen

" A Very Complicated Woman "

I wake up in slow motion. As my eyes are beginning to register shapes and I start to replay the phone call from last night in my head, there is an obnoxious pounding on my bedroom door.

"Oh, no…" I hear myself whimper.

Kiara tears open the door and tosses her irresponsibly expensive Hermès bag into my room, throws her hands up, and yells, "Punch me, bitch!"

And I'm ugly crying and running toward her as fast as I can. She folds her arms around me and I collapse into her. She smells like safety. Mom pushes her way into the room, right behind her.

"Now, just a second! She blew right past me. I deserve a hug, too!" Mom pulls Kiara in.

Mom first met Kiara at my graduation from college. The two immediately became thick as thieves and I remember feeling excluded and yet completely thrilled.

Kiara breaks out of Mom's hug and goes into crisis management mode. "Noah, shower. Now. Your mom and I will be downstairs in the war room. And don't worry; I'm making breakfast, not your mom. Sorry, Nancy Kay, but we all have our strengths and nobody comes close to my waffles."

I start to protest, but no one dares to argue when Kiara takes control.

Soon the smell of waffles permeates the house as I walk downstairs and find Kiara pounding out fluffy breakfast treats like a one-woman factory. She and Mom are talking in hushed tones and Dad is at his usual place at the kitchen table. Both Mom and Kiara brighten somewhat artificially when they see me.

Mom's voice is an overpopulated birdcage of chirpy encouragement. "There he is! And he even shaved! Doesn't a good, long shower just change your whole perspective on things, honey?!"

"Nope. My career and love life are still over. Nothing the people down at the Garnier Fructis shampoo factory can do about that."

I glumly pull out a chair and sit down with a thud and immediately regret my tone. "Um…sorry, Mom. Yes, the shower did feel good, actually."

Kiara serves us all waffles and we eat in a silence that couldn't be more uncomfortable if it were created in a laboratory for that exact purpose. I get half a bite of the cloudlike deliciousness in my mouth and have to stop. Maybe Joan Didion was onto something. I put my head in my hands and can feel everyone's eyes on me.

Out of nowhere, Dad decides to say, "Just get over the guy. He was a jerk."

I slowly level my eyes at Dad. "I was with him for almost two years. We shared a life together. And an apartment. And an entire future. He betrayed and hurt me. Get over it? It hasn't even been twenty-four hours." I hop up from the table, defiant and ready for a throwdown. "I'm sorry if any demonstration of emotion makes you uncomfortable, Dad. Maybe I should just go to a hotel."

Mom snaps into referee mode. "No one's going to a hotel."

Dad turns on her. "You said to say something to him and I did. Sorry if I didn't say the right thing. Jesus Howard Christ!" And we watch him struggle to his feet and haul his oxygen tank behind him on his way up the stairs.

And now I turn on Mom. "You told him to say something to me? Why? Just so he could look like he actually gave a shit?"

"Noah, I just…" But then Mom just slowly trails off. More marathon silence.

Kiara gets up and says, "You know, I'm going to give you two some privacy. I've got calls to make anyway. I'll just be right there on the front porch." And she's gone. The screen door stutters, punctuating her exit.

"I don't need your help, Mom. If Dad doesn't care about me, you don't have to give him acting tips on how to fake it."

Mom gives a pained sigh. "That's not…I just…he doesn't know how to react in these kinds of situations."

"What kinds of situations? Having a big, old homo for a son who gets dumped by another homo?"

"It would be just the same if you were straight. I honestly believe that."

"Oh, please, Mom. You know what Dad's like. He has never said the words ‘I love you' to me in my entire life."

A cloud passes over Mom's face. "Well, you know, Noah, not everyone knows how to use words like you do. Who built all the sets for your little skits and plays? That's his ‘I love you.' Who sold his beloved 1968 Mustang to pay for you to go to NYU? That's his ‘I love you.' Who calls the local papers every time you have a show go up just to make sure this entire town is proud of you? So he doesn't have your bravery with words. But he…he…does what he can."

With an angry slam of the back door, Mom's gone. She's gone and there's nothing but the worst possible silence left in her wake. And to top things off, seconds later she's trying to hide the fact that she's crying on the back porch.

This isn't Mom and me. We don't fight. I don't make her angry and she doesn't storm off. I walk to the back porch and sit next to Mom on the steps. She dries her face with what I've told her a million times is a hideous apron and slowly puts a hand on the back of my neck.

But she's still not looking at me.

"Jesus, Mom. That was some monologue."

"Well, you're not the only one in this family who gets to be a drama queen."

Fact.

"Look, I know that Dad has made sacrifices for me. I know you both have, and I'm very grateful. And I think I say so enough, but if I don't—"

"No, it's not that. It's just…I hate the gulf that stands between you two. It's like you speak two different languages. You're speaking French or Greek and he's speaking caveman, I guess. But he hurts for you, Noah. Those days when you came home from school with those boys teasing you? A man like your father doesn't know what to say, but he hurts for you when he doesn't know how to fix it. And he's also proud of you. But he doesn't know how to say that, either. So he builds a set or he calls a newspaper. So if you're waiting for words, you might not get them. But look at his actions. They don't say, ‘I love you.' They shout it."

We sit there for what seems like an hour as I let that sink in.

I take her hand and give it a squeeze. Once I'm sure the tears have stopped, I say, "Mom, on a much more serious note, I really have to put my foot down about that apron you're wearing."

"You don't like it?"

"Oh, it's perfect if you're selling yams out of a truck in a Steinbeck novel."

"What a coincidence! That's exactly the look I was going for!"

After a reasonable amount of time has passed and sensing that the thing with Mom and me is over, Kiara appears and says, "I just came around the side of the house and discovered one of my favorite things in the world! You guys have a trampoline? And you didn't tell me? I love a trampoline!"

I'd actually forgotten all about the thing. "It's still there? The springs are probably rusted all the way through."

"Only one way to find out!"

Kiara and I make fools out of ourselves bouncing around like a couple of clowns, until, exhausted, we lie back on the trampoline and stare blankly at the sky. A scream ricochets off the hickory trees and Kiara startles.

"What was that? Was that human?"

"Nope. Red-tailed hawk."

Kiara shakes her head. "Fucking nature."

More silence until I finally say, "First my Broadway show is destroyed, then my relationship explodes. What did I do to deserve this? Why is Baby Jesus so mad at me?"

Kiara scoffs. "Just to put things in perspective, Baby Jesus is probably too busy trying to remind most Americans that he isn't actually white. So let's assume destroying your career and love life isn't even on his vision board. But I will admit that you've had a run of bad luck. And Chase…damn it, he had us all fooled. I thought he was this super great guy. But turns out he is clearly shady as fuck. So what we do now is we do not blame ourselves. We self-soothe. And we realize that we have people who love us and would even fly to a place that has no Michelin-starred restaurants, which is a very serious sacrifice."

I pull myself into a sitting position and when my eyes focus, I see Luke standing outside the barn, talking to…Eddie Gregory? What the hell is Eddie fucking Gregory doing here? In a flash, my temples are pounding and white-hot anger floods my brain.

"You see that guy? The trashy one, smoking the cigarette? I've hated that guy since sixth grade. I think…I think he's actually working here! At my Goddamn family farm." Before I even know what I'm doing, I'm on my feet and ready to pounce. I hop slightly on the trampoline, growing more agitated with each bounce.

Kiara hops up and grabs my arm, desperate to calm me down. "Forget about it, Noah."

"No fucking way! That guy threw me into the dumpster behind the cafeteria. I sprained my ankle and ruined my favorite Abercrombie & Fitch hoodie."

"You were wearing Abercrombie & Fitch? Sounds like he did you a favor."

Kiara laughs, trying to lighten the mood. When that doesn't work, she attempts the pinky holding thing, but I pull away.

"The whole thing was fucking humiliating, but the worst part was the look of pity on Dad's face when he came to pick me up. I just stood there dripping with garbage hoping Dad wouldn't notice I was covered in creamed corn and sloppy joes. And then I had to suffer through a lecture from Dad about standing up for myself. How can Luke still be friends with an asshole like that?"

"Noah, let's just go inside."

"Not on your life! I'm gonna go read that fucker for filth!"

"Noah, please don't do this. I'm just saying, I don't cosign this decision!"

"Then stay here."

I leap off the trampoline as Kiara collapses back onto it and moans, "No, Noah…"

As I start furiously making my way over to them, Luke is the first one to see me and his face fills with worry. I scowl and shake my head, approaching at warp speed. Eddie looks up and I notice he now has a cheap neck tattoo and a scraggly goatee that makes him look like an extra from an episode of Prison Break . How very on-brand of him. Plus, he's trying to rock a pathetic man bun. Because what thirty-year-old guy doesn't want to look like a young Mrs. Claus?

"Hey, Noah. You okay?" Luke asks carefully.

But before I know what I'm doing, I shove Eddie in the chest. He staggers backward, but manages not to fall. To my small satisfaction, his cigarette flies out of his mouth and onto the ground where it gets crushed under his boot.

Luke is immediately between us and puts a forceful hand on my chest. "Jesus, Noah! What the hell are you doing?"

I ignore him and yell at a stunned Eddie, "Do you work here? Do you actually work on my family's farm?"

Luke seems to read the situation immediately. "Hey, Noah, calm down. I know what you're thinking, but just calm down and take a second."

I give Luke a furious look. "How can you even hang out with this guy?"

I stare at Eddie for a long moment and then he slowly averts his eyes and says, "I get that. If I were you, I wouldn't want me around, either."

I pause, confused. "What…what does that mean?"

"Just that Luke and me, we were talking about some shit a few days ago, and I guess I kind of owe you an apology."

What sorta mind games is this guy playing? I cross my arms defiantly and give my best skeptical look. "So you've been guilted into an apology?"

"I don't know about guilted, but I really am sorry. My buddies and me were pretty much dicks to you until Luke here put a stop to it. So, you know, sorry. Especially for that dumpster nonsense. I was just a stupid kid trying to look cool and failing at it."

And all the angry wind goes out of my sails. Not sure what to do or how to react, my body goes all jangling and awkward. Mom's wind chimes give a twee little jingle from the back porch and add an extra layer of girly frivolity to my tough guy act.

"Well, um…thank you for your apology, I guess." Why are my words coming out of me like English is my second language? "And, um, I would like to apologize for pushing you in the chest."

Eddie brushes it off. "I probably had it coming. Actually, why don't you take a swing at me and we'll call it all even."

I blink at Eddie, completely incredulous. "You're not serious."

Eddie holds his arms out as if he's being crucified. "Do your worst."

My shoulders slump and all I can do is let out a sad little laugh and shake my head. "I don't want to hit you, Eddie. I don't want to hit anyone. I'm just—"

Luke stares at me, confused. "You're just what, Noah?"

"Examining old wounds? Having a day? Suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?"

They both look at me like I'm a word jumble that no one could possibly solve.

And they're probably right.

"And Eddie, uh…I'm sorry about ruining your cigarette. Can I buy you another one to replace it?"

They both stifle a laugh. I immediately feel stupid and my skull turns into a life-sized bobblehead, nodding in agreement with how idiotic that sounded.

Eddie punches my arm like we're best buddies who go way back. "We're good, Noah. I've got plenty of cancer sticks. I better get back to work. I've got cow titties to squeeze."

He heads toward the barn. When we're alone, Luke looks at me with concern. "What's going on with you, Noah?"

I heave the world's biggest sigh. "I don't want to talk about it."

—

Back toward the house, I find Kiara hiding under the trampoline. "What are you doing under there?"

"I couldn't bear to watch you possibly humiliate yourself."

"Well, the crazy thing is, he apologized."

Kiara crawls out from under the trampoline and wrinkles her brow in confusion. "You sound angry. Isn't that a good thing?"

"It further screws up my understanding of the world's order of things. He even offered to let me punch him."

Kiara looks like she doesn't believe me for a second and then wags her head. "This place is fucking weird."

"You're preaching to the choir on that one."

"Well, since it seems like that little bit of drama is over, let's get back to me cheering you up."

I wrap my arms around her and sigh into her shoulder. "Nothing can cheer me up right now. This has been the worst twenty-four hours of my life. I mean, I'm thrilled you're here, but trying to cheer me up is a fool's errand."

Kiara puts her arms around me and squeezes back. "You know I love a challenge. I suggest it is time to pay a visit to…THE QUEEN!"

I let go of her and start hopping up and down like a toddler. How does she know me so well?

—

As we sit on one of the benches outside the Dairy Queen devouring Peanut Buster Parfaits, stars begin to pop up in the twilight sky. Just as I'm making a mental note to go for a run to combat the ridiculous amount of calories I'm consuming, a dark thought crosses my mind.

Kiara senses it. "What's wrong?"

"Something Chase said while he was busy ripping my heart from my chest. He said that I had a promising career. And I did when we first met. I was getting some buzz. And we met when he was on a panel at the Dramatists Guild. Do you think he was just there trolling for new clients? Do you think our whole relationship was just because I might make a good addition to his roster?"

Her face goes grim with reflection. "If Chase did date you for ulterior motives…well, I don't even want to live in a world where that is even a possibility. It's like we're in the Upside Down right now."

"What's that?"

"The Upside Down. From Stranger Things ."

"Kiara, you know I don't get science fiction references. Know your audience."

"You set your entire musical on a spaceship, Noah."

I shrug. "That was just to be arty."

Kiara changes tactics and obviously tries to get me to look on the bright side. "Look, sorry if it's too soon to say this, but you're free now. You can have anything you want."

"Except the thing that I want. Which is Chase. Horrible, beautiful Chase."

And then I give into the desperate siren song of hope. "Do you think this is all just a strange blip in our relationship or something? Like maybe it was something he had to get out of his system?"

Kiara's eyes flood with disbelief. "After everything you've just been through, why would you even want him back?"

I sigh. "I don't know. I'm just…I'm just a very complicated woman."

"Who isn't?" Kiara grumbles. "Get in line."

And even though I know how tragic I'm being, I can't seem to let the sad little glimmer of hope fade into the wind. "Who knows, maybe this thing with Aleister will get stale quickly and Chase will come back to me. To us. To the us we used to be. I mean, things like that happen, right?"

Kiara's face toggles between wanting to comfort me and not wanting to encourage false hope. She turns her gaze toward the plastic parfait cup in her hand and the leftover peanuts sadly bobbing in the small swimming pool of watery fudge.

"Remember your sophomore year in college when you got on your Ragtime kick and played the cast album nonstop?"

"What do Ahrens and Flaherty have to do with anything?"

"What soaring ballad did you play on repeat until you cried so much that you got dehydrated and had to go to the student health center where they quickly diagnosed you with a strong case of drama queen-itis?"

"That was a misdiagnosis." I huff.

"What was the soaring ballad, Noah?"

I can barely speak the title of the song. "?‘Back to Before,' sung by the incomparable Marin Mazzie."

Kiara takes my hand tenderly, almost as if it's made of glass. "I think that's where you are, Noah. Just like the lyric says, ‘You can never go back to before.'?"

I hear a tiny whimper somewhere and look around searching for a small, wounded animal. It takes a second or two before I realize the whimper came from me.

Kiara's pinky circles mine.

"But just remember that I love you so much that I would crawl on my knees through broken glass for you."

The routine again. Thank God for the familiar. The reliable. The comforting Kiara and Noah catechism.

I laugh and quickly come up with, "I love you so much that I would take a bubble bath with Mario Batali for you."

Kiara counters, "I love you so much that I would come to Plainview, Illinois, for you."

And we're both laughing wildly into the night air. And then, I'm crying. In front of a Dairy Queen in the middle of the Midwest. And she's holding me until it stops.

After I pull myself together, I ask, "How's Stephen?"

"Really, really good. Still seeing that therapist you recommended. They seem to have found the right dosage for his Lexapro. And he's making major real estate deals like a boss."

"And how's work? Is your firm suing anybody juicy or famous?"

Kiara gives me a look. "I'm not here to talk about my boring job. I'm here to cheer up my best friend. Is there any place to get some hardcore liquor around here?"

I sigh, defeated. "There's a place called Bumpkins."

"Isn't that when you give somebody a blowjob while they're sitting on a toilet?"

"What? No! That's a ‘blumpkin.' And why do you even know that?"

"I'm a woman of the world. And now I need to shake my Sharons at Bumpkins."

A half an hour later, Kiara and I are doing shots at the bar and she's yelling over the music, "I'm adding an eleventh commandment to the Bible: Thou shalt not take the name of Country Bumpkins in vain! I'm going to change my passport to say I'm a citizen of Country fucking Bumpkins!"

She's drunk. We both are.

And she's raving. "I am going to marry these onion rings! I'm going to build a little man out of them, put a tuxedo on my little onion ring man, and go before a justice of the peace!"

"God, I love it when you get wasted and babble!"

I thought my heart had been broken, when in fact it's sitting right next to me, sloppily shoving onion rings down its throat.

Kiara looks up and her jaw goes slack, displaying a jumble of half-eaten rings. I follow her gaze to see Luke standing before me.

He looks concerned. "Hey. I, uh, wanted to check and make sure everything was okay. I mean, first rehearsal got canceled and then that thing with Eddie."

Before I can even respond, Kiara is enthusiastically pointing at Luke and drunkenly snapping her fingers. "Is this the guy?!? Is this the…the…the kissing guy?"

The thing is, I don't even remember telling Kiara about the kiss with Luke. Maybe in my miserable rambling it came up? I've been in such a fog of despair, it's possible. But it doesn't matter now, because Luke is looking shocked that I've told anyone. My face turns bright red. I wonder if committing hara-kiri in the middle of the restaurant would turn me into some kind of local urban legend.

I try to apologize. "We've been overserved."

Kiara's eyes almost pop out of her head with realization. "Noah's single now! He and his asshole boyfriend broke up! You two should kiss! The two of you should kiss right now! Put your mouths together, I wanna watch!"

I quickly search the floor, wondering why there isn't a trap door to swallow me whole. "We were just leaving."

"Well, neither of you are in any condition to drive. Pay up and get in my truck."

Kiara is oddly excited. "I've never been in a truck! Can I ride in the back?"

Luke looks leery. "If you promise not to stand."

"Safety first, Aladdin!"

Luke gives me a baffled look. I try to explain. "I might have told her that you look like the title character in Disney's Hercules . She's getting her animated features mixed up."

Luke seems actually a little, I don't know, happy that I've been comparing him to cartoons with my friends?

As she climbs into the back of the truck, Kiara announces to the entire parking lot, "I had a dream last night that Queen Elizabeth came back to life, you guys! And she was a zombie! A motherfucking zombie! And she kept a bunch of human brains in her handbag! That's why she's never without the handbag! Mystery solved!"

Thankfully, everyone ignores the drunk, crazy lady.

"No standing in the back," Luke commands in a controlling and strangely hot way. There's something about authoritative Luke that makes me a little lightheaded. It reminds me of our ride in the hot air balloon when he told me we were safe. His words were not to be questioned. His resolve was not to be doubted. It's intimidating and intoxicating as hell at the same time. But the parking lot at Bumpkins is the last place to start getting turned on, so I file the thought away for later.

Once we're in the truck, Luke says, "She really likes those onion rings."

"Well, that's good. Because she'll be able to enjoy them all over again when she barfs them up into my parents' toilet."

Kiara opens the little sliding window thing to blather at us. "Here's what's going to happen. You two are going to hook up and if you, Aladdin, break my best friend's heart, you're going to have to deal with me! And I'm from Queens, Ali Baba! We know how to deal with…with…yeah…"

And thankfully she trails off and falls asleep with her face resting halfway into the cab of the truck.

Luke ventures a look at Kiara dozing off. "Are all of your New York friends drunken supermodels?"

"Pretty much."

Luke revs the engine and we ride self-consciously, a quiet hush filling the front seat like fog from a horror movie. We pause at a stoplight across from Hawkins' Drug Store and watch the lonely manager count the money in the till instead of talking. The stoplight blinks green and we roll onward.

Finally, Luke carefully asks, "So I know it's none of my business, but what happened with your guy?"

Ugh. "Well, he's officially not ‘my guy' anymore. He slept with a very promising, very much younger playwright and I found out."

Luke actually pumps the breaks in response, which elicits an unladylike half belch from a dead-to-the-world Kiara.

Luke stares at me, looking perplexed. "He stepped out on you?"

I fight the urge to make fun of the phrase "stepped out on" and simply nod.

"Are you…okay?"

"I'm a total disaster, but that tracks with everything that's happening in my life right now. I like to think of it as a theme. And the theme of my life is ‘The Hindenburg .' I'm considering making t-shirts."

Luke resumes driving, still looking baffled. And fucking gorgeous. His window is down and the night air plays with his blond curls. He clearly didn't shave this morning and the scruff on his face has the tiniest shades of ginger that matches the hair on his forearms. My God, his forearms. How do you even get forearms that muscular? My mind travels back to the day he kissed me and how forcefully those forearms wrapped around my waist and locked me in place.

To my surprise, I snap out of my trance to find Luke talking about the very same day.

"I know that I made a mistake with the whole kissing thing. And, man, I'm not here to make an opportunity out of your breakup or anything. But I'm not afraid to say this: that guy was a phony."

It's now my turn to look baffled. "Chase?"

"Yeah, total dickhead. Walking around like he was better than everybody. Nose in the air. That guy was super hoity-toity."

I will not make fun of him for using that phrase.

I will not make fun of him for using that phrase.

I will not make fun of him for using that phrase.

Luke continues, "He just seemed, I don't know…unworthy of you. Like the two of you don't belong together."

"Well, apparently he agrees because he's banging someone else in a very expensive hotel."

"Well, he's a dickhead, then. Here we are."

When we pull up, Kiara does a spectacular nosedive out of the back of the truck.

But she pops up like an Olympic gymnast and starts screaming a hideously off-key rendition of "A Whole New World."

I look at Luke and mutter, "I should probably take care of the beautiful drunk woman."

"I'd be disappointed in your lack of chivalry if you didn't."

I sigh and proceed to extract Kiara out of the shrubbery she's fallen into and haul her toward the house. We take less than three steps before Kiara turns around and shouts to Luke, "Noah saved my husband's life! He's a good person! Don't you hurt him, Aladdin!"

Luke gives me a questioning look from behind the windshield.

"Just ignore her."

Luke nods and pulls out of the driveway just as Mom comes out with a bucket in each hand. I'm presuming they're for Kiara and me to vomit into. If Mom clocks the fact that it's her personal patron saint chauffeuring Kiara and me home, she doesn't let on.

I gesture toward the buckets and ask, "How did you know we'd end up shitfaced?"

"Oh, Noah. Don't you realize how many times I've seen this movie? Spoiler alert, Kiara comes to town and I have to protect my wall-to-wall carpet from the both of you. This is about the sixth sequel."

Then she gets tender and says, "She's a good friend."

I grab both buckets and maneuver Kiara up the stairs while her body sags like a drunken scarecrow.

The next day, I'm hugging a very hungover Kiara in front of her rental car and not wanting to let her go. "I'm going to be lost without you."

"No, you're not, because Stephen and I have already spoken and we have a plan of attack. If you'll let me, I'll handle everything with Chase. I'll arrange to have your things picked up. I'll make sure your name gets taken off the lease. Stephen will find you a new apartment—"

"A cheap new apartment. I have to figure out how to live on my own meager savings now. God, do I have to move into a studio? That is so depressing. What am I going to do for money, Kiara? Am I going to have to go back to bartending and waiting tables? Am I going to have to sell my hair like Fantine from Les Mis ?

"You'll be fine. Just let me take care of everything so you don't have to even think about it."

"But you can't do that. You have a full-time job. You're going to be too busy helping evil corporations stick it to the little people."

"Um, first off, I do a ton of pro bono work, so I deflect any negative karma. And secondly, I am going to love making Chase squirm like a little bitch. And if he calls or texts you, ghost that fucker!"

And after about fifty-three more tiny hugs, Kiara gets into her rental car and drives off.

As I head back toward the house, Luke pulls up in his truck, ready to start work. And of course he's wearing a t-shirt with no sleeves. I assume they were torn off in a tornado. His impressive biceps are on full display.

For a second the sight of him makes me forget that I'm completely and utterly devastated about Chase. But that second passes.

"Kiara headed back to New York?"

"Yep." I hear the sadness in my own voice. I suspect we both do.

"She's pretty funny when she's drunk. And…uh, you told her about the kiss?"

"Apparently. I don't know. My brain is basically just a bunch of cartoon monkeys playing bongos at this point."

Luke nods. I notice he's no longer wearing his baseball cap backward and I wonder if he can read minds. His hair is doing its usual curly thing over his left eye and I'm a little disappointed when I realize he's shaved. The ever-present babble of cows mooing to each other fills the silence.

"So is practice back on tonight?"

"Rehearsal," I correct him. "And yes, it is."

"You sure you're up to it?"

"I guess we'll find out." I turn and walk away, not able to stand any more of his pity.

—

Later that evening I find myself sitting on the hood of Mom's Toyota, unable to enter the theater. Minutes tick by until Melissa quietly appears from inside the building and takes her place next to me on the hood.

"Are you coming inside, Noah?"

"They all know I've been dumped, right?"

"Well, it's a small town, so…"

"I figured." Melissa gives me a gentle hug and I accept it with a mopey grunt. "They're all going to feel sorry for me. And act like my eyes aren't bloodshot from crying. Do you think it would be okay if I wore a burka?"

Melissa is dubious. "I think that might be considered cultural appropriation."

"Christ! Chase could have given me some kind of warning that he was going to throw our entire relationship down the metaphorical garbage disposal. He could have at least ended things before he started screwing someone else. But no, he played me for a fool."

"That says more about him than it does you."

"I'm officially a cuckold."

"No, you're not."

"It just hurts so…I don't even know what the word is. Profoundly, I guess? It just hurts so profoundly. How can I ever trust anyone ever again?"

Melissa offers no counsel.

"The saddest part is that I'm not even sure how to exist without Chase. He was so good at adulting. He planned the vacations and made the restaurant reservations and calculated how many calories we should eat per day if we wanted to maintain some semblance of a waist. It was just so…"

"Controlling?" Melissa asks cautiously.

"I was going to say thoughtful. Or comforting. But maybe controlling is right. But I loved him for it. He just always had all the answers when all I ever had were questions. Who's going to have all the answers now? And you want to know the worst part? I was considering proposing to him."

"Oh, Noah…" Her voice is saturated with so much pity that I hesitate. But I can't stop myself.

"There's a fancy French place in the city called Ladurée. I was going to put together a little tea hamper full of macarons and other extravagant shit. This was when I allowed myself to dream that Stage of Fools would have a somewhat healthy run. My fantasy was that I would lure Chase to Central Park on a perfect Sunday afternoon. And between the macarons and champagne I would get down on one knee and seal our hearts together for all eternity. The plan was to buy him an obnoxious ring from Tiffany's. The Paloma's Groove Ring in sterling silver, to be specific. But that's all gone now…and I'll never fall in love again. Just like Burt Bacharach and Hal David said."

Melissa sits with me in silence.

Finally, she asks, "Do you want to just go back home? The rest of us can run lines or something."

"No. If I give up even for a minute, Chase wins. I'm just going to walk into that building and act like everything is fine. Even though I know I'll be wearing an invisible scarlet letter. But instead of standing for adultery, it'll stand for abandoned."

And I'm up on my feet and heading toward the side door of the theater. Melissa trails me like a pregnant handmaiden of sorrow.

I suddenly feel Melissa's hand on my elbow and she spins me around to face her. Not used to being manhandled, I give her a questioning look and Melissa takes a deep breath and starts to speak.

"Look, Noah, I get things have been rough lately. And I know that you think that the curtain is coming down for you, both professionally and personally. But maybe…just maybe, you're only at intermission on both counts. What if this is just time for you to regroup, to take a bathroom break and eat some stale popcorn before Act Two starts?"

I give her a weary look. "Well, that would be horrifying, because new musicals are notorious for having second act problems."

"In that case, we'd better get back to work."

We share a determined nod and head back into rehearsal.

The flurry of sad looks from the cast is just as uncomfortable as I had predicted. I quickly decide to become Momma Rose from Gypsy and muster all the chutzpah I can. "Sorry we had to cancel yesterday's rehearsal. My fault completely. So, for good measure, let's run through the entire score just to burn those new lyrics into our brains. And, you know, sing out, Louise!"

Relieved to have something other than the sad, shipwrecked homosexual to focus on, the cast obediently gathers around the piano.

While they get down to work, I turn to see Dad coming through the side door with his oxygen tank and a blueprint tube under his arm.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"Dr. Dunbar said I need to get some light exercise in, whatever that means. Anyway, Luke said you were taking out all the old timey talk."

"And?"

"Well, so that means that everybody's just going to talk like normal people. Like we're talking right now, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, it got me to thinking." He hands me the blueprint tube. "Here's my thought. It might be stupid. I don't mind if you think it is or don't agree. But this here is my thought, son."

I walk over to a table and pop the cap off the tube. As I unfurl Dad's blueprint and spread it onto the tabletop, my heart skips a little. "Dad, is this…is this a new set?"

"I know this isn't my area of expertise, and I hope this doesn't look like I'm trying to step on your toes or anything. But it just kinda occurred to me that maybe if everyone was talking normal, well, maybe they should have a normal set instead of some spaceship."

I stare at the blueprint spread out before me. It's a farmhouse. Dad's made King Lear a farmer. Just like him. And I immediately remember Mom's little soliloquy about how Dad says "I love you" with his actions. Maybe she was right.

"It's probably stupid, son—"

Dad reaches for the rendering and I stop his wrinkled hand. I assume my hands will look the same someday in the not-so-distant future. "No. I love it, Dad. I totally love it."

"You do?"

"It just makes the whole show seem so much more grounded. It's a major improvement."

And it's then that I wished we had the kind of relationship that included hugs. But instead we turn into department store dummies. Stiff department store dummies unable to close the space between us. But at the very least we're happy to finally nod at one another from across the abyss.

"I do, Dad. I love it. I'm really touched that you put so much thought into it."

I've said too much and we both know it. Thankfully, Dad knows when and how to change the subject. It's his specialty. "There's Luke. We should make a game plan."

I follow Dad's gaze and to my surprise I see Luke talking to Eddie Gregory.

Confused, I wander over with Dad.

"Hi, Eddie," I say cautiously.

Eddie just nods a casual hello. "Hey, Noah."

Luke starts explaining, "I have a lot of set pieces to move around. I realized that when we ran those first few scenes together. So Eddie said he'd being willing to help."

"Do you even like theater?" I ask.

Eddie shrugs. "I don't know. Closest thing I ever saw was a puppet show over at the church. But if Luke needs help and as long as he can show me what to do, I thought, sure. And also…well, I think we both know I owe you one."

Eddie Gregory wants to be on the stage crew for my musical. We really are in the Upside Down now. Whatever that is.

"Okay, sure. Great. Welcome aboard."

Dad hands the blueprint to Luke. "Well, I just doubled our workload, so we need all the hands we can get."

I go backstage and try to find Allison Egan to break the news. If we're changing the setting to a farm, all of her work on the costumes will have been in vain. She looks understandably disappointed and I feel terrible. "I'm sorry, Allison. You've put so much amazing effort into this show. So much consideration and care. I'm just really, really sorry to do this to you."

Allison thinks for a minute, her arms crossed. Then she shrugs and says, "The best idea wins. And that's the best idea. I can work with the cast and the clothes they have. And I can pull stuff from the costume closet, too."

"You're a saint," I say. "But with this new direction, do you think it would look strange to keep the crown of oak leaves for Melissa? I know it might seem out of place, but it's just so cool looking."

Allison smiles. "I think we can take some artistic license with the crown."

By the time we get to our first break, the cast is up in arms when they see Dad, Luke, and Eddie starting to dismantle the set.

I try to smooth their very easily ruffled feathers the best I can. "Calm down, you guys. We decided that the spaceship thing just isn't working anymore. In fact, I'm not sure it ever worked. So we're setting the musical on a farm. And in the present day, instead of the future."

Jackie McNew gives a knowing look. "I've been suggesting that from day one."

Julia turns to the rest of the cast. "She has not."

"It was actually my dad's idea." There's some positive murmuring and then a spontaneous smattering of applause for Dad. Dad shakes his head, clearly embarrassed, and quickly pushes Captain Lear's command station module into the wings.