Page 24 of Something Like Forever
He patted Ben on the back.Or was it a gentle shove? Either way, it got him moving. Benstrolled out on stage and stumbled, but at least that wasintentional. His character had stormed out during the middle ofdinner and had now returned drunk. Maybe he could hide his lack oftalent beneath all the slurring. Setting aside his personalproblems, Ben focused on the performance. That was the plan,anyway. His attention kept returning to a table in the front row,where Tim sat sipping a beer, silver eyes never leaving him, evenwhen the other actors were speaking. That was flattering andbrought back a few memories, but Ben kept hoping for some sign. Aquick thumbs-up or a nod that indicated Jason was okay.
“You’re a disappointment,”Ben’s character snarled at his wife. “An even bigger one thanme.”
The audience was supposedto murmur in discontent. That’s what had happened each time withthe previous star. Instead the audience was silent. God he suckedat this! His wife slapped him, then threw herself on the couch toweep. Ben moved to the drink trolley to pretend to pour anotherscotch, keeping his head down and seeking out Tim in the audienceagain. His husband was looking at his phone! He wouldn’t do thatduring a performance unless it was important. Jason had finallytexted! Ben was so eager for news that he stopped pantomiming. Onlywhen Tim looked up and flashed a reassuring smile did Ben get backinto character.
He took his scotch to thecenter of the room, gestured at his wife with it while saying morehorrible things, and then was shoved out of the house (off stage,actually) by the handsome neighbor who his wife would eventuallyleave him for.
“Good stuff, good stuff!”Brian said, meeting him in the wing.
“I don’t know who you’retrying to convince,” Ben shot back, “me or yourself.” Then hemuttered a quick apology, because snapping at Brian felt about asgood as kicking a puppy. Besides, he was only angry at himself. Howmany special evenings was he ruining? How many people had boughttickets, thinking they would charm their dates, only to see oneinept actor sully the entire play? “I need to sing.”
“The next show is amusical. I sent you the script already. Rehearsals start nextweek.”
“I know,” Ben said. “Imean I need to sing now. Tonight.”
“There aren’t anysongs!”
“Doesn’tmatter,” Ben said. “I’ll recycle one from a previous play. HowaboutCrystalTears? That always got a good reaction fromthe audience.”
“It’s about an old man,”Brian managed to splutter, looking paler by the second. “And hiswife who just died.”
“I can make it work,” Bensaid. “We’ll change the words around.”
“You’re on infive!”
“True.” Ben paced back andforth, trying to think of an alternative. “How about that otherone? What’s it called?” He sang a line as quietly as he couldmanage. “I’m despicable without your love, a filthy crippleddove.”
“Reprehensible,” Brian said. “That wasyears ago. Do you still remember it?”
“I sing it in the showerall the time,” Ben said.
“But the plot. How does itmake sense?”
“The guy makes one lastplea for his wife to stay. We’ll drop all those lines that I can’tdeliver and he’ll sing to her. That she still chooses to leave himafter I bring the house down—which I will—shows just how over himshe is. Or how much she loves the other guy.” In truth, he didn’tcare if it made sense at all. He just wanted the chance to redeemhimself and maybe save Valentine’s Day for some of the people outthere. Tim included.
“I don’t know,” Briansaid. “The other actors…”
“I’ll take care of them,”Ben said. “I’ve got this. Trust me.”
Brian nodded, every bob ofhis head forced, but at least he had agreed. Ben grabbed a bottleof water to make sure his throat wasn’t dry and started warming upby singing under his breath. This he could do! He actually feltexcited when making his final appearance on stage. He walked acircle around his wife, like he was sizing her up or dressing herdown, when really he just needed a chance to whisper a warning toher. “I’m singing. Your lines stay the same.”
The actress glared at himwith tangible anger. Ben wasn’t sure if she was acting or not. Notime to worry about it. He held out a hand to her, one thatwouldn’t be accepted, and started singing. He wasn’t aware of whatthe audience thought about this new direction. He didn’t have theheadspace to consider them, Tim, or even the situation with Jason.All of that faded away, the song becoming his entire world. Enoughthat Ben wept authentic tears as he alternated betweenself-loathing and a desperate plea for love that he knew he didn’tdeserve. By the time the song ended, his wife seemed ready toforgive him, as if the actress couldn’t resist deviating from thescript. Luckily she caught herself at the last moment and tore intohim. Ben bore the brunt of her anger, hung his head, and left thestage. Even though he was the villain of this story, the audienceburst into applause.
“I love you,” Brian said.“I just turned a little gay, I swear. Take me right here, or inyour dressing room, or anywhere else you want!”
Ben laughed, gave him a hug, then thought ofhis phone again. “Sorry, I need to— Sorry!”
He sprinted for thedressing room, and once there, picked up his phone. Nothing on thelock screen. Entering his pin number revealed zero notifications.Nada in his text messages. No voicemail either. He had new emails,but nothing from Jason. Ben thought about calling or sending a textof his own, but if Jason and William were being romantictogether—or even if they weren’t—Ben would be an unwelcomedistraction. Instead he forced himself to be patient. He returnedto one wing of the stage and watched the story reach its scriptedconclusion. Then he joined the others for the curtaincall.
Ben bowed a few times,stepping back and gesturing at the true actors, encouraging theaudience to applaud for them. Then, when the curtain wasdescending, he hopped off the front of the stage, straight into theaudience.
“What are you doing?” Timlaughed, standing to meet him.
Ben kissed him. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Iwant to be with my man.”
“Aw,” Tim said, coming infor another smooch.
Ben dodged. “Did you hear from Jason?”
