If Ever(95)

He lays his hand on my thigh. "God, I don't want to leave you here alone today."

“Honestly, I just want to be by myself.”

He takes my hand in his. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Not really."

His concern is touching, but nothing can help me. I just want to stay with these miserable feelings. Sometimes it's easier to give myself over to the pain, because somewhere in those dark, lonely places, there's a sense of security. No one can hurt me anymore if I stay down here in my pit of misery.

"Chelsea?" He's watching me again, his eyes squinty with unease, and I'm not sure how long my mind wandered off.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I'll be back after my audition and we can have dinner before the show."

"All right."





That night I'm on the love seat in Tom's dressing room with the sound of his voice from the stage pouring through the wall speakers. He insisted I come to the theatre. I guess he was afraid I'd slit my wrists or something when he came home and found me in the same spot on the couch as when he left.

Hearing him perform in front of a thousand people when I've unloaded all my hellish drama on him adds another level of awe. I don't know how he can turn it all off and disappear into his character. I wish I could turn off the turmoil in my head.

The silky sounds of his powerful voice help soothe me. His talent is unparalleled with his ability to move people through a kaleidoscope of emotions. I'm lucky to have him and yet I feel so inferior. At this point I can’t manage to land a job. Why is he even with me?

The door opens and Tom appears, a sheen of perspiration on his face, his hair damp with sweat. I hadn't noticed they'd gone to intermission.

He grabs a bottle of coconut water from the fridge, a towel off the rack, and falls onto the loveseat beside me, dropping his hand on my leg.

I place my hand on his. "You're great out there. I don't know how you do it."

"Because I have to." He laughs, and leans his head back and closes his eyes. "That's the gig."

He lays there quietly, catching his breath, and coming down from the high-octane energy of performance mode. I experience the same thing on Celebrity Dance Off, but I only had to maintain the energy for a few minutes while on camera. He has to do it for most of two and half hours.

"How are you?" He tilts his head my direction, concern in his eyes.

"I'm not trying to pry open the window to jump, so you can stop worrying."

He smiles and I sense his relief.

"But I have been thinking."

"What about?"

"Life, big stuff, small stuff, you know."

"And?" He takes my hand.

"I’ve been bouncing around for a while with no real direction. Running into my dad made me realize that I've spent most of my life trying to please others."

He listens closely with concern etched on his handsome face.

“He’s my only living family, and he can’t bear to be in the same room with me.” I pull my hand away.

“Your father is an idiot.”

I stand and go to the window. The street is illuminated by the bright marquee, but few people are out. “Maybe so, but I need to fix things. I can’t keep living this way.

"As long as it doesn't take you away from me, I'm all for it."

I turn to face him. “If you’re sure you still want me around after seeing my dark side.”

Tom joins me and puts his arms around me. “Always. Nothing could change that.”

But I’m not so sure.





34





“It's a pass on the movie," my agent, Sean says two days later.

I sigh and press my lower back to the living room floor in an effort to stretch the tight muscles. "Any word on the TV pilot?"

"No, but you've got a call back for the Broadway project tomorrow at eleven, and I set two auditions for you next week. One is an HBO pilot, the other is another new musical in development. Both would be great for you."

"When are they?"

"Next week Tuesday and Wednesday. I'll send over the details and audition materials this afternoon."

Any chance you can switch Tuesday audition to Thursday? This schedule has been kicking my ass."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Sean, tell me I'm doing the right thing by leaving the show."

"Don't doubt yourself. A full year in that show is accomplishing the impossible. I guarantee that future replacements will be in three-month increments. It's time you move to the next stage of your career and broaden your experience."

"Says the guy paid to be optimistic." Flat on my back, I notice a cobweb floating from the ceiling.

"True that." He laughs. "Catch you later."

The bathroom door opens as I click off. Chelsea comes out wrapped in nothing more than a cloud of steam and a fluffy white towel.

"What are you doing?" She grins down at my prone position. It's great to see her smile after the horrible run-in with her father, but I worry she’s just burying the pain. She’s been overly cheery all day.

"It's called the Alexander." My knees are bent with my back and neck stretched out straight and flat. Water from her damp hair rolls down her arm.