by L.H. Cosway
I crooked my neck to send him a questioning glance. “And?”
“I don’t need that kind of distraction today.”
It took only a second for his meaning to sink in and I rubbed my hands on my thighs, self-conscious. I didn’t think anything of it when I put them on this morning, but now I wondered if they were maybe a little too tight.
I quickly shook myself out of those thoughts. If Trev was distracted by my jeans that was his problem.
“I’m not forcing you to look them,” I shot back defensively.
He sat on the ground and started stretching, his gaze travelling all the way up my legs. “Yeah, but I’m my own worst enemy sometimes.”
Neil was studying his tablet, acting like he wasn’t listening, but I knew he was. I cleared my throat.
“So, how are you feeling? Not too sore after last night?”
Trev smirked and leaned forward into another stretch. Neil stiffened and I wanted to facepalm. “I mean, because of the alcohol. It dehydrates muscles and that’s why they sometimes ache after we drink,” I extrapolated unnecessarily.
“I’m fine. I only had one drink,” he replied.
Thinking back on it, he was right. Maybe it just felt like he had more because of all the action going on.
“Was that a, um, conscious decision?” He had mentioned he was drinking less.
It took him a while to answer. “Yes.”
“I see.”
I wondered if drinking worsened his condition. I knew from experience that he could get very wild when he drank in the past. If dealing with a sober Trev was a handful, then dealing with a drunk Trev was a job for ten men. Maybe more.
“Trev, I need you over here,” Barry called.
“Be there in a sec,” he answered then looked at me. “Come over and watch on the monitor. That way you’ll get to see everything and not just what’s in your line of sight.”
“Okay, sure,” I said and followed him.
Barry’s monitor was set up at the bottom of a long concrete stairway, which led to the public gardens. Paul, Callum, Leanne and James were all gathered around him, nodding as he gave directions. I stood a few feet away, where there was a decent view of the monitor and watched as Trev joined the others.
When Barry finally called action, the group vaulted up the stairway two at a time, with James bringing up the rear. Everything moved so fast. A number of the crew were up top, capturing all five of them as they shot through the gardens. They hadn’t completely shut the place down to the public, so there were still people hanging around, sitting on benches chatting, or walking along the pathways.
The camera caught Trev as he headed for the narrow ridge along the outer edge of the viaduct. It must’ve been over thirty feet high. Some of the crew were on the roofs higher up, enabling them to capture the full extent of the drop.
My stomach tightened in excitement as I watched the group. I could practically feel their adrenaline as they ran. Everything happened so quickly. The parkway stretched for at least a couple of kilometres, so it gave great scope for the group to play around. Trev leapt from the narrow ridge and onto a nearby roof. Not one to be outdone, Callum followed, while James, Paul and Leanne continued their run along the viaduct.
The cameras tracked Callum and Trev as they crossed over several rooftops, then made their way back. Barry gave directions over his mouthpiece until they reached the end, and then it was time to start over.
I became accustomed to the fact that none of the Running on Air stunts were filmed in just one shot. Barry ordered them to be captured over and over again, from various positions and angles, until he was satisfied with the footage. I was exhausted just watching it and wondered how Trev and the others managed to keep their energy levels up. Then again, they were constantly filling up on protein bars and Lucozade. I was fairly sure they had a sponsorship for product placement. Plus, Leanne wasn’t lying when she said those boys ate like elephants, though I was sure they burned it all off easily enough.
Once Barry was satisfied, they shot interviews with each member of the group as they discussed the location, the dynamics of the stunt, and how they felt everything was going so far.
Later on, when Barry called cut for the last time that day, Trev came and flopped his arms around my shoulders. He was sweaty and breathless and looked completely exhausted.
“If I die, cremate my body and throw the ashes in the Thames.”
I laughed. “You’re not going to die.”
“I feel like I am,” he said, leaning into me more. “So you should be nicer to me.”
“Will you get off? I’ve got a gig later and I don’t want to stink of your body odour,” I complained, though there was absolutely nothing gross about a sweaty Trev. Maybe I should be concerned by the fact that I actually found him appealing like this, freak that I was.
His interest perked up. “Oh, you’ve a gig? Can I come?”
I didn’t answer right away. My initial reaction was to say yes, but then when I thought on it, I decided it was a bad idea. We were growing closer by the day, and though I wasn’t unhappy about that, I wasn’t so sure him being in the audience tonight would be good for me.
“I’d rather go alone,” I answered finally and Trev’s brows drew together. “I just don’t want Jimbo following along with his camera, you know?”
Trev’s chest deflated and frustration marked his features. “Right. Bloody Jimbo.”
We didn’t get a chance to discuss it more because Isaac came over, full of excitement about being on set. He waxed lyrical about getting coffees for the crew and being sent on various menial tasks. It was like a teenager getting to be a roadie for the summer with their favourite rock band, only in this case it was their favourite group of reality TV free runners. His cheer was so infectious he was like Prozac in human form. I seriously would’ve just hung out with him all day if I could, but unfortunately there was always something that needed to be done.
I stuck around the set for as long as needed, helped Neil with a few things, then headed to the apartment to grab my keyboard for the show.
The venue was a cute little burlesque club close to the Champs-Élysées. I was over the moon when they agreed to let me play, even though I suspected it was only because they needed a clean act to break up all the stripteases.
And yes, I was aware that if Trev knew the location of my show he would’ve gotten down on his hands and knees and begged me to let him come. I got a sick satisfaction out of secretly denying him. Perhaps I’d let it slip tomorrow and allow him to fester in the lost opportunity.
The décor in the club was lavish, all red velvet, black lace and gold accents. There were even gold stripper poles on either side of the stage. I actually blushed a little when I saw them, especially since one of the burlesque performers was practicing as I made my way backstage. It was definitely one of the most decadent places I’d played, and not wanting to stand out, I put extra effort into my appearance.
My black dress was knee-length and lacey. It showed an abundance of cleavage, more than I usually revealed, and unbidden, my mother’s disapproving voice flooded my mind.
Ese vestido te hace ver como una prostituta. Sube a tu habitación a cambiarte inmediatamente.
That dress makes you look like a prostitute. Go up to your room and change immediately.
I did my make-up extra sultry, with dark red lipstick, just to mentally spite her. She was still in my head when I walked onstage, and it was difficult to disregard my conflicting emotions. Sometimes I thought I did it to myself, at least subconsciously. Maybe I wanted to be upset when I performed, because it allowed me to convey emotion better.
The audience was made up of a mix of tourists and locals, so I hoped at least some of them could understand what I was singing. Although, sometimes you didn’t really need to know the language to feel the sentiment. After all, people around the world adored opera without having a word of Italian.
“This song is dedicated to my parents,” I said.
The lights shone a little too brightly on the stage, rendering the audience a blurry haze. “It’s called ‘Even Now’.”
When I closed my eyes, I sang with all I had in me. I felt brave knowing there wasn’t a single person out there who knew me. I could show them all the ugliness inside and not have to fear rejection.
Even now, if you opened up your arms
I’d come running
Even now, if you told me you loved me
I’d say I loved you, too
Even now, with my heart broken and black
With my guts bloodied and bruised
I’d give everything I own in this world to have my family back
When my set ended, a peachy-boobed lady in a half corset and glittery nipple tassels followed me. It didn’t feel wrong that I’d just been singing song after song about my family and how they pushed me out. It just felt real. This was the world, every single beautiful and awful shade of it.
I knew for a fact my parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew I was singing about them on a stage adorned with stripper poles. And with that satisfying thought, I went to gather my equipment.
I was leaving to grab a taxi back to the apartment when a short girl with a pixie haircut approached me. She had bright hazel eyes and a professional-looking photographer’s camera around her neck.
“Hi, are you Queenie?” she asked in a light French accent.
I turned to her with a smile, thinking I remembered seeing her during my set. She’d been sitting in the very front row with two other girls.
“Yes, I am,” I answered, then gestured her closer to whisper conspiratorially. “But just between you and me, that’s not really my name.”
She gave a small chuckle. “Well, just between you and me, I already knew who you were. I have no idea why I asked that. I’m just nervous.”
I warmed to her candour. “No need to be nervous, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Reya.”
“I’m Marlene,” she replied shyly.
“Did you like the show?”
She nodded profusely. “Yes, I actually, well, I’ve been following your YouTube videos for a while now. When I saw you post that you’d be playing in Paris, I just had to come see you perform.”
Her statement took me by surprise. I often uploaded videos of my gigs to YouTube, but other than those and the odd tweet, I didn’t have much of an online presence. “Oh, really? That’s so cool.” My smile widened.
“I just wanted to let you know how much I love your songs. When I first found them it felt like . . . I can’t think of the right word in English, but it was like someone had taken all of my feelings and made them their own,” she said, gesticulating passionately.
“That’s so kind of you to say, and it means a lot to hear it.”
“When I came out to my parents, they decided they didn’t want me as their daughter anymore. When you sing about your family, it feels so vindicating to know I’m not alone,” she went on, her eyes turning glassy.
Emotion fisted my heart in a vice-like grip, and in that split second as those words tumbled out of her mouth, I strangely felt like hugging her. And now my eyes were turning glassy, too. “I’m glad,” I said in a whisper. We just stared at one another for a few moments before I asked, “Would it be weird if I hugged you?”
She shook her head, her cheeks going a little pink. “Not at all.”
So we hugged. Passers-by were probably shooting us strange looks, but I didn’t care. I was too busy feeling the moment, sharing a connection with this stranger I’d somehow touched through a few blurrily shot YouTube videos.
When we broke apart we shared a smile. Then she lifted her camera. “I, um . . . Photography is a hobby of mine and I hope you don’t mind, but I took some pictures of the show tonight. I could email them to you if you’d like? You could use them for whatever you wanted, promotional or online things.”
“Oh my goodness, yes, I’d love that,” I exclaimed.
We exchanged information, chatted a little more, and then I headed for my taxi.
The following day the group had a free morning, with filming not scheduled until the late afternoon. I slept in after my gig and took a leisurely shower. I must’ve been the last to wake up because everyone was gone by the time I left my room. Paul, James and Leanne decided to go sightseeing, while Callum took a trip to a chiropractor because he was having some trouble with his shoulder. That left only Trev, Neil and me in the apartment.
Neil sat on the couch with his computer on his lap. The door to the balcony was open and a cool morning breeze drifted in.
Deciding to make brunch, I asked Neil if he was hungry then texted Isaac to see if he wanted to come over for food.
“Where’s Trev?” I asked Neil, and he glanced up from his laptop.
“In his room, I think.”
I nodded and headed toward the bedrooms. When I reached the one he was sharing with Callum, the door was left slightly ajar. I lifted my hand to push it open, then hesitated. I could hear Trev talking inside and I didn’t want to interrupt. When I took a peek around the doorframe I saw he was on a Skype call.
“And how do you feel about the possibility of rekindling a relationship?” an older male voice asked. He sounded thoughtful but clinical, and I couldn’t think of who it might be until I remembered Trev mentioning his doctor. They’d arranged weekly online therapy sessions while he was away.
“To be honest, it’s difficult not to let my head run away with itself. When I’m around her I know I need to take things slow, but I just want to talk about everything. I want to ask how she feels, demand that she tell me where I stand. It makes me crazy not knowing.”
“Go on.”
“It’s just so difficult not to regress.”
The doctor’s voice was soothing. “When you feel that way it’s probably a good idea to take a step back. Assess the situation from a distance. Diving into things without thinking is one of your biggest issues. Not only might you scare Reya away, but you could also damage the progress you’ve made.”
I stifled a gasp when the doctor mentioned my name, my heart pounding rapidly to discover they were talking about me.
“I just want things to go back to how they were.”
“We can’t go back, Trevor, only forward. After all, you aren’t who you were back then, therefore, it can’t really be the same, can it?”
He sounded frustrated when he responded, “But that’s just the thing, doc. I am the same. Don’t get me wrong, some days I really do feel like I’ve changed, but then I have these moments of clarity. I see how brittle my progress is, how easily I can ruin it all. I’ll always be the bloke I was before, no matter how much I try. He’s a forgotten pill away, or a missed therapy session. I’m not sure I can keep living on this edge all the time. I can’t spend my entire life at war with my own head. It’s exhausting.”
The doctor was sympathetic now. “Unfortunately, there are only two options, and that is the better one. There is a consolation though, the war gets easier.”
“So, I just keep going through every day like this? That’s not how I want to live. I don’t want to give Reya this half-broken excuse for a man. I want to give her something solid and reliable. I want to give her everything she deserves.”
“This isn’t a new sentiment for you, Trevor. We spoke in depth about how you distanced yourself from her romantically during the early days of your friendship because you thought she wouldn’t be able to rely on you.”
“She wouldn’t have. Before I met Reya I’d already had a string of girlfriends and it was the same cycle every time. We got together, a few weeks went by, and they started to want a proper relationship. I couldn’t give them that, not consistently, anyway. Some days I’d feel solid and could act like the perfect boyfriend, but then other days I couldn’t focus at all. I’d get distracted and forget to call, or forget a date we’d planned. In the end they’d get so fed up with my unpredictable behaviour that they’d break it off. Or I’d get sick of their
nagging and break things off myself.”
Wow. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was this the reason he’d kept me at a distance for so long? He didn’t want that to happen to us, the premature break-up? So many things started to make sense, and I felt so ridiculously stupid that I hadn’t put it together sooner.
“But Reya meant too much to you to risk a similar break-up?” the doctor questioned.
“Yes. I didn’t want to lose her. I couldn’t lose her. The way I felt about her was too strong, so I kept things platonic, even though some days it was fucking agony.”
“Don’t you think that shows restraint? You stopped yourself from taking something you wanted because of the possible long-term repercussions.”
“I suppose . . .”
“So, even back then you had that in-built control. Yes, it did break eventually, but you need to acknowledge the achievement was no small feat. You stayed the course for a very long time, with no understanding of your condition and no treatment. For over three years you maintained a friendship with Reya.”
“It’s not like it was easy,” said Trev with a hint of humour.
“And I believe you, but I also believe that with the right guidance and perseverance, you can overcome your hurdles and continue to do so. You have to understand that this is a lifelong practice. There isn’t a quick fix. Like anything in the world, continual upkeep and maintenance is what keeps it ticking over. The man you are today is far different from the one who first visited my clinic, but you’re only six months into this process. Once you get used to a routine you’ll feel much better equipped to enter into a romantic relationship.”
Trev was quiet after the doctor finished speaking and I knew I should leave, but my feet wouldn’t move. I was morbidly fascinated hearing all this, even though at the same time I knew what I was doing was very, very wrong. I was eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a private and confidential conversation. But I was hearing things about Trev I’d struggled to understand for years.