by Aidan Wayne
She frowned. “Why would it be weird?”
“Well, I mean…” Skye took a breath. “He asked me to lunch because he liked the character I am in a play.”
Linda waved a hand. “So what? People meet people in different ways all the time. And I mean, he might like your character, but he wouldn’t have asked you out again if he thought you had an empty head.”
Skye snorted. Leave it to Linda to reference the show. “That was so bad.”
She grinned at him and stuck out her tongue. “You love me. Anyway, there’s no harm in giving it a chance. Unless… does he make you feel unsafe? Or uncomfortable?”
Skye shook his head. “No.” Exactly the opposite. Brent had been nothing but careful and unthreatening. Had made it a clear point to be. He told Linda as much.
“Okay, well, it sort of sounds like he’s a great guy. I mean, with the limited info.”
“Yeah.”
“But?” she prompted.
“But you know I’m terrible at making decisions. And going out with someone is a big one.”
“It’s just one date,” she coaxed. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Skye looked at her.
She sighed. “Right, I know, I know, I’m sorry. That doesn’t help either. Look, if it makes you this anxious, don’t do it. If you’re anxious because you want to do it, might as well give it a try?”
“Yeah.” Skye linked his fingers together and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said to wait until Friday. I’m going to be thinking about it for the next couple days.”
“You could always call him now, then.”
Skye bit his lip. “No, I-I think waiting is a good idea. Giving myself time to think about it is important. So I’ll be nervous. That’s part of dating, right? Nerves.”
“Look,” she said, “If Friday rolls around and you’re still a ball of anxiety, just let me know, okay? I’ll walk out with you and help you talk to this guy. Or just act as support. Something. Okay?”
“Okay,” Skye sighed. “Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
“Hey, who knows? It’ll probably be fine.”
Skye wasn’t too optimistic, but he tried to smile anyway.
***
By Friday, Skye was absolutely a ball of anxiety. He knew Brent was watching. He wanted it to be a good show. He wanted things to go well, no matter what they were.
He still hadn’t completely decided on what to do. No, no, he had. He was going to say yes. He was. But thinking about it kind of gave him a stomach ache. The idea of saying no, however, made his stomach hurt even worse.
He got to the theatre way earlier than he needed to be and went to apply his makeup, intending to just spend the rest of the afternoon warming up for the evening show to keep his mind and body busy. If he could just focus on the show, he could keep from focusing on the fact that Brent was going to be watching said show.
No, breathe and apply foundation. Everything was fine. Brent was nice and Skye was going to go out with him and probably have a good time and there was no reason to freak out why was he freaking out?
Once his makeup was on he pushed himself out of his chair and stared at himself in the mirror, trying to breathe. It was a date. A date he wanted to go on. What was wrong with him? Why did this always have to happen whenever he needed to make a damn choice?
“Hey, Skye.”
Skye jumped and looked up in the mirror. Russell was behind him, pushing a rack of freshly-washed costumes.
Russell smiled at him. “You’re here early.”
“Yeah,” Skye turned around and tried to smile back. “I-I wanted to–I have some stuff on my mind so I thought–” he needed to get back into his zone for the show. He couldn’t break down now. “I–I thought–you know, I should come in early and–and–” it was getting harder to breathe, vision tunneling. He dimly heard a clatter and then someone was guiding him to sit down on the floor. He shrank away from the contact, chest heaving. Don’t touch me, don’t touch–
The warmth left at once. “Hey,” the someone murmured, “Hey, Skye, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re in the dressing room backstage. Nothing’s going on. You’re okay. The show’s going on tonight and you’ll be amazing in it like you always are. You’re fine. Just try to breathe, okay? Try to breathe. Just go slow, in and out. You’re fine.”
Skye wrapped his arms around his knees tried to pay attention to the voice, working to regulate his breathing. After a few minutes he was able to blink back into reality and pick his head up to see Russell kneeling in front of him, concern written all over his face.
“You back with me?” he asked quietly.
Skye swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks. I–thanks.”
“Of course.” Russell reached out a hand like he often did, a calming gentle touch, but this time he immediately snatched it back. Skye ached for it now that the panic had left, wishing he was up to asking for a hug. “Are you okay?”
He tried to smile. “Fine, yeah. Thanks.”
Russell frowned. “Alright, lemme rephrase the question. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
“Skye, you go on in three hours and you just had a panic attack. Are you sick? Do you need to call in a understudy?”
Not going out onstage was the last thing Skye needed. He had to perform in the show–he’d basically promised. And he wanted to put on a good performance. “No, no I’m fine. I’m really fine. I just…” He looked at the floor. “I’m fine,” he ended up saying again, voice small.
Russell clasped his hands together. “Skye, I don’t want to press. But you know you can talk to me, right?”
Skye knew that implicitly. Russell was one of his best friends now, next to Linda. But the idea of telling him about Brent twisted Skye’s stomach up into knots for some reason. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Skye, you’re worrying me here.”
“I have a date,” Skye blurted out. “Maybe. I maybe have a date.”
Russell’s eyes widened, then his expression turned serious. “And that’s… bothering you?”
“I don’t know. It shouldn’t. I don’t know why it does.”
“If you’re doing this and you don’t want to,” Russell said, voice soft, “You don’t have to.”
“I do want to,” Skye said. “I think. I don’t know. I can’t decide. It’s freaking me out. I… want to want to? I like him so far.”
“And he hasn’t done anything to make you uncomfortable?”
Skye shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m making it such a big deal,” he mumbled. “He was perfectly nice.”
“Okay Skye, okay. How’d you meet him?”
“He uh, he was there opening night. He said hi and told me how much he liked the show. And then next week he came again and he sent me flowers? And then on Tuesday, when we were dark, I was in Bryant park and so was he and he said hello and asked me out to lunch.”
Russell’s forehead creased with worry. “He just happened to be in the park when you were?”
“That sounds pretty bad,” Skye admitted. “But he gave me a lot of space. And told me to say no if I wanted to.”
Russell nodded. “Okay.”
“And lunch was fun. He was, you know, interesting and easy to talk to. We–I think we hit it off. After lunch he asked if he could see me again. And I, um, I panicked so he gave me his card and just asked me to think about it.”
“Okay,” Russell said again. “Okay. And you decided on tonight, after the show?”
“I said I’d tell him tonight, after the show,” Skye said. “He’s coming to see it.”
Russell’s eyebrows shot up. “Again?”
“He said he really likes the show.” Skye felt the need to defend Brent. “I mean, I know I’d see Hamilton a bunch of times if I could manage it, so. It’s not that weird. I don’t think.”
“Alright, yeah, I understand.” Russell leaned back. “So it sounds like you want to go on this date with him. Or th
at you want to tell him yes, I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“But it still bothers you.”
“I… yeah.” Skye fidgeted. “My last boyfriend...” He’d never talked about Fischer before, not to anyone in the cast. “It wasn’t a very good relationship.” He was able to recognize that now. “So the idea of dating again kind of freaks me out. I think that’s it. And you know I’m awful at making decisions anyway, so…”
“So those things combined are making it hard on you,” Russell finished.
“Yeah,” Skye said quietly.
“You know, I’d been wondering,” Russell said, after a long silence.
“Wondering what?”
“Why you didn’t have someone.” Russell shrugged. “I mean, nice guy like you, cute, smart, crazy talented, fantastic dancer–”
Skye bit his lip, fighting a smile. “Russell–”
Russell grinned. “What?”
“I’m really not that great.”
“Okay, so what, you’re telling me you’re not a fantastic dancer?”
“I mean–”
“Crazy talented?”
“Well–”
“Ridiculously cute?”
Skye snorted. “Russell.”
Russell nudged him. “I’m just saying. This guy would be lucky to go on a date with you. But you also don’t have to give him the time of day if you don’t want to. If you’re not ready to date yet, you don’t have to. Even if you like him, you don’t have to if you’re not ready.”
Skye nodded, feeling a lot better. “Right. I–that’s good to remember.”
“Do you want me to come out with you after the show? Just to be support, I mean.”
Skye smiled. “Linda offered too.” And getting that from her, from Russell, was basically a verbal hug. “Thanks. That’d be nice.”
“Of course.” Russell put a hand on his shoulder. “You know I’m here for you.”
Skye looked at him and took a breath. “Thanks,” he said again, trying to put as much feeling into it as he could. “Thanks, Russell.”
***
“Break a leg out there, Skye.”
“I will.”
***
Skye was in the middle of doing the jumps for his number–the ones right after another that had him leaping about the entire stage, when there was a bright, blinding flash.
People weren’t supposed to use any kind of video or photo devices during any shows period, but especially not flash photography.
Skye missed his landing, crashed right into the prop car. There was an audience-wide gasp as the cast went quiet, as if their audio had all been cut at once. Yael, who was closest to him, helped him up. Skye dimly registered her eyes widening just as he felt a warm trickle start to slide down his face.
He brought a shaking hand up to his forehead and saw, numbed, his glove come away red with blood.
Yael tilted her head in the direction of the curtain as if to say Come on, let’s go and Skye stumbled offstage along with her. He heard the music start up again just as he passed the curtain, Yael giving his hand a squeeze before she rushed back onstage.
“And that is why, in the blink of an eye–”
At least, Skye thought, it had happened near the end of the show.
“Skye,” Russell said, rushing up to him, “Oh my god, Skye.”
Skye smiled weakly. His head hurt, but Russell looked so worried. “It’s just a flesh wound?”
Suddenly Jan was there, holding a towel and pressing it to Skye’s forehead. “Come on,” she said briskly, “I’ve already got your bag. We’ve got a car waiting to take you to the hospital.”
Skye cast one frantic look back at Russell and followed Jan out into the hall.
Chapter 4
Skye was given priority on account of the blood gushing from his forehead, especially since it was mixing with his makeup and making him look like he’d leapt straight out of a horror movie instead of off the Broadway stage, so the wait wasn’t too long. One numbing shot and four stitches later, he was sitting anxiously on his emergency-room hospital bed, fidgeting with his cape and waiting to be released. Jan had stayed with him, and she was gone again, asking about his status.
Mostly Skye wanted to take off the rest of his makeup (they’d wiped him down, but had missed several spots–stage makeup was hardy), take off his bloody costume (and he’d have to apologize to Russell and the rest of the costuming team, since it was probably going to be unusable now), and go home.
“Skye?” Dr. Barnes moved aside the curtain, followed closely by Jan. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” He had a headache, but it really wasn’t too bad, considering. “Can I go home now?”
Dr. Barnes nodded. “You don’t have a concussion and it was only a minor cut–the skin on your forehead is just thin, and head wounds bleed a lot. I think you’re fine to be released. Feel free to take some over-the-counter pain relief and just keep that cut clean.”
Oh. That was a good question. “What about stage makeup?”
“As long as you cover the stitches–I recommend medical tape, and put the makeup on over that, you should be fine. Just take it off as soon as you can and wash your face and the cut with mild soap.”
“Okay.” He could do that. “Oh! But about performing?” Tomorrow was a double show day. “I can go on tomorrow, right?”
“We talked it over,” Jan said. “You should really rest for at least a day before you get back on the stage. We’ll call in an understudy for tomorrow. If you’re feeling better by Sunday, you can get back into costume.”
“Oh.” Skye looked at the floor. “Okay.”
Jan put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s really for the best. Now here,” she handed him his clothes. “Sorry I didn’t grab these with your bag. I had one of the stagehands run them over. You can change now, and I’ll take the costume back with me, see if we can’t salvage some of it.”
“Thanks,” Skye said, taking his clothes. “I’m so sorry I ruined it.” He knew the hours and hours that went into each costume.
“Please,” Jan said, “Don’t even worry about it. I’m just glad you’re alright.”
***
Skye got home, dropped his bag on the floor, stepped out of his shoes, and slowly collapsed on his bed. After a second of trying to process what had happened, he crawled over to the edge of his bed, snagged his bag up, and rooted through it for his phone.
Twenty-six messages, three voicemails. He sighed and scrolled through the messages, which were all various versions of, “Are you okay?”
Instead of trying to answer everything individually, he posted an update to the groupchat, said he’d be performing Sunday, asked people to pass along the info, and said he was going to bed; he’d talk to everyone later.
He went to grab a glass of water and he almost choked when he remembered what was supposed to happen after the show. Brent. Brent was going to think Skye had blown him off.
No, Brent was going to think Skye was dead or something. He’d been watching the show when Skye had face-planted into that stupid car and practically had to be carried offstage bleeding.
Skye scrambled back to his phone and to Brent’s contact page.
Hi, he typed out, This is Skye. I just wanted to say sorry that I wasn’t able to meet you tonight.
He got a response almost immediately, the buzzing of his phone a surprise.
What in the world are you apologizing for? Are you okay?
I’m fine. I just needed a few stitches. I’ll be back to performing Sunday.
Thank god. I’m so glad you’re okay. Do you need anything?
Skye blinked down at his phone. Thank you. It’s really fine. I’m just going to have to take it easy tomorrow. No shows. I’ll be back on Sunday.
Okay. I’ll have to see the show Sunday, then.
Skye’s eyes widened. You don’t have to! I didn’t mean that.
Well, one of my favorite parts of the show got cut short. Besides, how else
am I going to see you after a show if I don’t go to the show?
Talking to Brent like this, after the night he’d just had, Skye’s nerves actually left him. Something about Brent just seemed to click. Made him feel brave.
Maybe you don’t have to wait until Sunday. If you didn’t want to.
I’d really like that, if you were sure.
Yeah. Just as long as it wasn’t too much activity, I should be good.
Alright. Let’s make some plans.
They decided on brunch, at the Lillie’s Victorian Establishment at Brent’s suggestion. That’s close to where you are, right?
Yeah. Thanks for thinking of that. And Skye could look up the menu ahead of time and decide what to get, so he wouldn’t be wracked with indecision tomorrow. He tried to ignore the prices. Brent insisted on treating again.
Of course. Now, you’re probably exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Yeah. I’m looking forward to it. And he was too. Something nice to look forward to, considering the night he’d just had, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to perform tomorrow.
Me too. Sleep well.
He went to go change and brush his teeth. When he was done and fully ready for bed, he checked it one last time. The groupchat was going crazy with well-wishes, and Linda and Russell had both sent him private goodnights.
Skye smiled down at his phone and crawled under his covers.
***
The next morning, Skye’s alarm went off as usual and he went about his morning routine; folding up his bed, getting dressed, and then doing a shortened version of his usual warm-up. There were several new messages on his phone, from Linda and Russell both wishing him a good morning and telling him to take it easy.
I’ll miss you guys today, he told them in a group text. Meet tomorrow before the show?
I can’t :( from Linda. I’m meeting my sister for a spa day. But I’ll see you tomorrow night!
I’m down, Russell said. Just let me know when and where.
Want to just hang out at one of the parks?
Sure, Russell replied. Central?